Lucky Charm (5 page)

“Do you want me to help?” Avery asked timidly.

“I think you have done enough,” Charlotte snapped.

Avery looked deflated as she watched Isabel and Charlotte walk away. Charlotte never got mad at anybody; Avery felt really terrible. What had started off as an incredible day was now a nightmare.

“Do you know what direction he went?” Avery asked with a sniff.

Maeve put her arm around Avery, who seemed to be shrinking smaller and smaller. “Katani saw him run down the hill and into the woods near the creek,” Maeve told her.

Avery blinked back a tear, sucked in a ragged breath, and started off in that direction.

“I’ll go with you,” Maeve offered.

Avery shook her head. “I think you should help the others with the flier,” she said.

“Come on, Avery,” Maeve said, grabbing her hand. “Don’t go there. Charlotte’s just upset. It’s not your fault. There was a squirrel. She didn’t tell you that. And Kelley…you know how much Kelley loves that dog. She ran after him and then Marty got all wound up. It wasn’t your fault, Avery. Really, it wasn’t.”

“I just hate to think of poor little Marty off all alone in the woods somewhere,” Avery said. “Like all those lost pets from the hurricanes.”

“He isn’t all alone,” Maeve reassured her. “He has Happy Lucky Thingy with him.”

I
sabel sat down on the compass rose that she had drawn in the Tower and motioned for Charlotte to sit down as well. Since there were only four window seats and five BSG, this canvas floor cover was Isabel’s special Tower space. Charlotte tried to steady her jumbled nerves.

Charlotte and her father had traveled the world. She’d lived on four different continents after her mother died and seen some pretty amazing things. But of all the places in the world she had visited, it was in Brookline, in the middle of the Tower, which felt the most like home.

Twirling a piece of her long honey-blonde hair, Charlotte reminisced about the many slumber parties the Beacon Street Girls had enjoyed in the Tower. Marty had always added to the fun by doing all sorts of crazy things, like attacking Maeve’s pink fuzzy slippers or pouncing on pieces of pizza crusts. She couldn’t imagine what life would be like without Marty.

Both girls moved back and stared at the compass on the floor. It seemed to say that from this spot there were many different ways to look at things. Many different directions one could choose to go.

Charlotte held a clipboard on her lap, trying to think of the perfect words to describe Marty.

“What if…” Charlotte didn’t want to say the unthinkable, but she couldn’t help it. “What if we never find Marty?”

Isabel put her hand on Charlotte’s arm. “You concentrate on the words. I’ll sketch a design.”

Charlotte nodded. She closed her eyes and Ms. Rodriguez’s words came back to her. “Details! Telling details is what will make your writing come alive.”

Yes
, Charlotte thought.
Ms. R was right
.

Charlotte shut her eyes and waited until she saw the image of Marty in her head. He was a mutt. That didn’t help. What had they decided? That he was probably terrier and something else that no one could figure out. Gray with large, dark brown eyes. Last seen in the park headed toward the creek with his favorite chew toy, Happy Lucky Thingy.

She needed an emotional tug here. She made a list.

• -Beloved pet
  
• -Wiggly, cute bundle of energy
  
• -Small dog, big attitude
  
• -Answers to the name Marty or “Little Dude”
  

“You finish up the sketch and I’ll see if I can get this all on one page,” Charlotte called over her shoulder as she
disappeared through the trapdoor of the Tower and down the ladder.

After booting up her computer, she chose a bold font and a type size as large as possible to keep all the information on one page.

Isabel joined her about fifteen minutes later. Not only had she sketched an adorable picture of Marty, but she had caricatures of the five girls frowning at the bottom of the page.

“How strange,” Charlotte commented as she gazed at Isabel’s drawing. “Just this morning Maeve was wishing she had a caricature of herself.”

“I don’t think that’s exactly what she had in mind,” Isabel surmised.

Mr. Ramsey arrived home just as they were ready to print out lots of copies.

“Let’s let my dad look at it first,” suggested Charlotte.

“What’s this?” Mr. Ramsey asked, looking at the flier. “Oh, no! When did this happen?”

Opening her mouth, Charlotte attempted to tell her father what happened, but tears flooded her eyes and she couldn’t seem to get anything but a slight whimper out. Isabel quickly explained the whole story.

Suddenly, it was all sounding like an accident. Isabel forgot to mention how this was all Avery’s fault or how Charlotte searched for Marty by crawling through the prickly scrub along the creek bed.

Charlotte wanted to tell her father the rest of the story, the real story, but when she tried to speak, nothing came out. Mr. Ramsey put his arms around his daughter.

“We have to get going,” Isabel said. “I’m sorry, Mr.
Ramsey. I know Charlotte’s really upset, but we need to get these fliers on the street. The sooner we do, the sooner we might find Marty.”

“Just a minute, Isabel,” Mr. Ramsey said. “Charlotte needs to calm down before she goes anywhere. I want you to sit down and take a few deep breaths.” Mr. Ramsey left to get Charlotte a big glass of cold water.

As she took the glass from her dad, her hands shook. She gulped down a nice cold sip, wondering for a second if Marty was thirsty. She thought of all the puddles around and worried that he might drink something that could make him sick. What if he was sick? What if he was really sick and helpless somewhere out there in the woods, or in a dark, scary alley all alone?

“Charlotte…let’s focus on the problem at hand,” Mr. Ramsey said.

“Marty being lost?”

“Not exactly.”

Mr. Ramsey stroked his chin as he gazed at the flier. “The important thing is that people get a good look at Marty. And as delightful as your illustrations of five sad Beacon Street Girls are, Isabel, it might be a little distracting.”

Charlotte was afraid her father had hurt Isabel’s feelings, but when she glanced at Isabel, she saw she was nodding as if what he had said made perfect sense.

“Secondly,” Mr. Ramsey said, “It’s not safe to put your phone number or e-mail address on the flier. Also, why don’t we scan in Marty’s photo? That will really command attention. How about grabbing that photo of Marty over there on the fridge?”

“But Dad, how will—”

“Let me finish…. I can create a website where you can gather information. We can call it…let’s see…. How about www.wheresmarty.com?” he asked.

The girls looked at each other with excitement. A
Where’s Marty
website. Charlotte gave her father a big hug.

While Mr. Ramsey checked to make sure no one owned the web address, Charlotte focused on the flier in front of her, crossing out the cartoon faces as well as the phone number and e-mail address. She was already starting to catch her breath and with a sip of cold water every now and then, she was beginning to think a bit more clearly, too.

“Dad?” she asked in a steadier voice. “Do you think we should offer some sort of reward? Maybe that would make someone give Marty back.”

“I think a modest reward might be a good idea,” he said after some thought.

Charlotte wrote “REWARD” at the very top of the page and held her pen, waiting for the dollar amount.

“How about a hundred dollars?” he asked.

Charlotte nodded. It was more than she expected. More than she hoped for.

The girls disappeared into Charlotte’s room and quickly made the changes.

They gave the flier to Mr. Ramsey for final approval. He quickly gave it a thumbs-up. “This looks great, girls. Why don’t you take it down to Print and Copy? I’ll buy the web address and start building the site.”

“We can get more for our money at the Copy Cafe on Beacon Street,” Charlotte said.

“We’ll need strong pushpins,” Isabel thought out loud. “And staplers too.”

Mr. Ramsey gathered up a few rolls of tape, put some pushpins in a Baggie, and grabbed a stapler from his office. “Maybe Miss Pierce can loan you another stapler.”

Charlotte and Isabel ran downstairs and knocked on the door that led to Miss Pierce’s apartment. Their landlady, the reclusive Miss Pierce, opened the door.

“May I borrow a stapler?” Charlotte asked.

“Well, of course you may, Charlotte,” the mysterious little woman answered. “My dear, is there anything wrong?” Miss Pierce inquired.

Charlotte had a difficult time telling the story, or even thinking about Marty being lost anymore. She just wanted to hang fliers. She needed to do something. Thankfully, Isabel explained the whole situation.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Miss Pierce, placing her hand on top of Charlotte’s. “I will program my telescope to take pictures of Brookline. If Marty is running loose, we will spot him.” Miss Pierce was a retired astronomer and had a telescope on top of the Tower.

“Thank you so much,” Isabel and Charlotte said in unison as Miss Pierce turned to get a stapler for the girls.

Charlotte was grateful that everyone was being so helpful. She hoped that all of their efforts would bring Marty home—safe and sound. Right now, the only thing that mattered to her was finding Marty.

Have You Seen…

“We better hurry. It’s getting dark more quickly these
days,” Isabel said as she put on her coat. “After we go to the Copy Cafe, we can split up from there.”

Charlotte just nodded as she threw on her coat. She still felt angry. Isabel had made it seem like losing Marty had all been an unavoidable accident when she told her father and Miss Pierce what had happened. Why hadn’t Isabel mentioned that Avery was supposed to be watching Marty? Why was everyone being so protective of someone who said they loved dogs, but hadn’t been paying attention? It hadn’t been an accident at all. It had happened because Avery was more interested in the batting cage than taking care of Marty. And now Marty might be lost forever…just like Orangina, her poor kitty cat that she had left behind in Paris. The thought burned Charlotte up inside. The yellow Victorian wouldn’t be the same without Marty—nor would the Beacon Street Girls. She wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye.

Isabel walked silently beside Charlotte as they hurried toward downtown.

As they headed out into the sunny afternoon, all Charlotte could think about were the pictures and TV images of the lost animals from the hurricane. She felt a pang of panic. What if they couldn’t find Marty?

“How many copies?” the clerk at Copy Cafe asked when they handed him the flier.

“I have a five,” Isabel said.

“I have a ten,” Charlotte said. “Can we get as many copies as fifteen dollars will buy? That should be enough to get started.”

When Charlotte had stuffed the ten dollar bill in her
pocket this morning, she’d thought about buying a new T-shirt or perhaps a new bracelet. The day had turned out very differently.

“Well, girls,” the man took out a calculator, “at ten cents a copy that’s a hundred and fifty fliers! You must be serious about finding this little dog!”

When the print job was completed, they divided the fliers between them. “You take Harvard and I will take Beacon,” an in-charge Isabel directed. She could tell that her friend Charlotte was worried and confused.

“I’ll meet you back at the corner.”

Charlotte’s first stop was Irving’s.

“Twice? How very nice,” Mrs. Weiss said, laughing at her little rhyme. “Did you fill up the reporter’s book already?”

“Not exactly…” Charlotte said. “We have an emergency.”

Charlotte showed Mrs. Weiss the flier. “Do you think that we could tape this in your front window and maybe right here by the counter?”

Mrs. Weiss took the flier from Charlotte’s hand and read the whole thing.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, clutching the front of her floral dress. “Little Marty lost? Oh, my dear, you must feel awful. You had him on a leash, how in heaven’s name did he get away from you?”

“He didn’t get away from me….” Charlotte said, tersely. “He got away from Avery.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Weiss turned her head to one side, encouraging Charlotte to continue.

“Yes. She left him in her duffle bag while she was at the
batting cage.” Charlotte sniffled. “If she hadn’t been so interested in having a good time, Marty would be home with me right now,” she said.

“You know, Charlotte, everyone gets distracted sometimes. I mean, here we are having a big festival and there are rides and games and cotton candy. And that little Avery, when she comes in here she bounces around like she’s one of those Superballs over there. A regular little Superball.”

For a moment, Charlotte caught herself smiling at the image of Avery bouncing about like a ball. Then she got mad again. She knew that Mrs. Weiss was right, but she just couldn’t stop being mad at Avery right now.

Mrs. Weiss patted Charlotte’s hand. “You’ll find the little doggie. And don’t be so hard on the bouncy one.”

“But Avery…”

“She’s a good little egg, that Avery,” Mrs. Weiss interrupted. “I bet she feels as bad as you do…or worse! She loves that dog.” Charlotte nodded and waved good-bye to Mrs. Weiss. She knew the storeowner was right, but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that if Avery had been more responsible, none of this would be happening. They would all be at the festival eating hot dogs and munching on popcorn.

Every time Charlotte entered a shop, she asked permission to tape up her sign. By the time she was done, there was a Marty flier plastered in every store window on Harvard Street. Marty would be famous. Charlotte thought the little dude would be pleased.

When Charlotte met up with Isabel at the end of the street, she was feeling more hopeful. Surely somebody would have seen the little dude by now.

“Any luck?” Isabel asked.

Charlotte shook her head. “You?” she asked.

Isabel shook her head.

As they walked back into the park, they noticed the vendors starting to put away their wares for the day and the crowd beginning to thin out.

The girls wished each other luck and then trudged off separately into the remains of the fair.

“Have you seen this dog?” Charlotte asked each vendor, holding up the sign.

“No,” was the universal reply.

Most people said they would keep their eyes open, but some didn’t even want to take the flier. With every step Charlotte took, fear grew in her heart that she might never see Marty again.

When she got to the end of the first row of vendors, Charlotte spotted Avery’s jacket folded into a lump and abandoned at the base of the big tree in the park.
I can’t believe it
! Charlotte thought. Avery not only lost Marty, but her jacket too. But when she got to the tree she realized that the jacket was not alone. There was Avery, all curled up into such a tight, tiny ball that Charlotte had almost missed her.

“Avery?” Charlotte asked.

Avery looked up. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked so small and lost that Charlotte instantly felt sorry for her.

“I looked and looked and looked,” said Avery, standing up. Her legs were streaked with mud and scratched from crawling through the bushes. “I kept calling him and I whistled so long and hard,” Avery said with a hoarse voice.
Charlotte knew that she was telling the truth, but she still couldn’t help thinking that Avery was the one who got them into this mess in the first place. At the same time, she felt sorry for Avery. It was all so confusing.