Maine Squeeze (53 page)

He pointed across the store. “Oscar's food is over there.”

I laughed. “No, not that. I mean, I had some things I wanted to tell you. And ask you.” My voice was starting to sound weird and thin and shaky. “First off, Tom confessed to taking all the money. And I called Mrs. Martinez and left a message about how he'll resign and how the Duck—with your guys' input, of course—can decide on his punishment. Maybe he can pay it all back eventually.” I looked around the crowded store. “Hey, are you guys hiring? Maybe he could work here.”

Grant just kept shelving cans of cat food. Chicken mushroom flavor. He wouldn't even look at me.

“So I don't know if I told you, but Beth and I quit at Truth or Dairy,” I said. “So I won't get to see you as much anymore, which is too bad.”

He didn't blink. “I know you quit. I found out when I decided to drop by and visit you Tuesday night. You said you couldn't go out with me because you had to work? And you weren't there. And Gerry told me you
quit
on Monday.”

Turns out Grant is really mad at me for lying to him not once but many times.

He said I lied to him about not knowing how to ski well. (He saw me ski once, when we all went together.)

He said I lied to him about Thanksgiving in Nebraska and how Tom was there.

He said I was a total hypocrite; I wouldn't go out with him, I said I wouldn't go out with anyone. But here I was, making the moves on Tom, who is only the worst living example of the species, a liar, a cheater, a philanderer.

A what?

“But see … I'm not interested in Tom, and that's why I kissed him. And I did it because I panicked when I saw Dave, so I had to kiss someone, so there was Tom, and—” Saying it out loud was so embarrassing. It made no sense. “So anyway, I don't care what they think.”

“Really? It doesn't seem that way to me,” Grant said, still sticking price tags on top of cans.

The thing is, the kiss meant nothing to me. Or Tom. Or even Dave, who could see it was false. But I guess it meant something to Grant. I've never seen him look mean before. It was awful!

“Grant, come on. I was sort of tipsy that night, remember?”

“Of course I remember. I was
with
you, remember? And I thought we were sort of hanging out together,” Grant said. “I thought we were having fun. But as usual I guess I was wrong, and you didn't mean anything you did or said that night. Just, you know, like a
guy
would do.”

Whoa. Talk about harsh!

I couldn't think of what to say. This was it. I had to tell him that I was wrong and that I did like him and that I was getting too wrapped up in a dumb self-imposed regulation which didn't take into account the fact I'd get to know someone like Grant this year, just like my nondairy rule didn't take into account the fact that Ben and Jerry would come up with new irresistible flavors every year.

“Excuse me, young man, but is anybody else working here?” a man in a plaid coat asked. “Because I need some help picking out the right cat litter. Now, I've got the clumping kind at home, but it gets tracked all over the house and it's like living at the beach, so I thought—oh, I'm sorry. Are you still helping her?”

Grant turned to me. “Am I?”

I couldn't even answer him. I couldn't speak. All I knew was that I'd ruined everything. “No,” I mumbled.

Then I tried to run out of Pet Me, but the place was so crowded I couldn't get through to the exit. I tried to hurdle a scratching post and nearly fell into a fish tank. People were laughing at me. I was crying.

Spent all last night mulling over all the things I've done wrong lately.

Woke up with a brilliant idea today. We can have a school fund-raiser at the Canyon Boulevard strip mall, while everyone's out spending Christmas bucks and prone to blowing money on nothing. We could coordinate the effort, me and Beth and Grant and whoever else can help—Jane can stand on the sidewalk looking like she does and cars will pull in. It's too cold for a car wash; people's locks will freeze. But we can offer free smoothies with every pet grooming/dog wash/etc. Not full-size smoothies; maybe half-size. We can offer photos of groomed pets with ribbons, etc.

Two problems with this plan:

(1) Beth and I no longer work at Truth or Dairy
.

(2) Our Pet Me connection, Grant, no longer speaks to me
.

I have to try anyway, or my entire fall will be a waste.

Yes! I went back to Truth or Dairy, found Gerry. He was miserable and about to call me and Beth to ask us to come back. I said we could, but I made the school fund-raiser part of the negotiation, convinced him what good publicity we'd get, and told him it was time for him to give back to all the students who worked so hard for him. He caved. Then we set my work schedule for next week.

“Courtney, I hope you come back here feeling refreshed,” he said. “Ready to throw yourself back into the job with the same enthusiasm you're showing for this school event.”

“Oh, I will,” I said. “And about me not working in Boulder and all that … no hard feelings, right?”

“Right,” Gerry agreed. “Just … hard ice cream. And a real soft spot right here—” He meant to pat his heart, but he hit his stomach—“for you and Beth. You have done a lot for T or D, and the regulars have been asking for you. Promise me you'll stay until you graduate!”

So I did.

Then I ran over to find Grant again. He wasn't working, but I talked to the manager about my idea. He said he'd offer the grooming services for half price and the other half could go to Bugling Elk. He said to work out the details with Grant and then call him. I told him the event has to be, like, tomorrow. Or the 30th at the latest. Grant might not return my call by then. He said he'd call Grant now and let him know I'd be calling to follow up later. “Your mother's been buying dog food here for years. It's the least I can do,” he said.

I called Beth, Jane, then rest of student council. That was easy. Talked with Mrs. Martinez, and she said the principal was willing to make a deal where Tom did hours and hours of community service,
plus
he had to write a letter to the school newspaper admitting his guilt and apologizing,
plus
he had to pay back all the money, and then
maybe
she wouldn't let the colleges he applied to know about it. It would go on his record, though. It sounded like Tom was going to be awfully busy for the rest of the year.

Grant finally called me at the end of the day. I told him about the fund-raiser idea and he said he thought it was cool, that he'd think about helping. “But you're like the cornerstone of this whole thing,” I said. “I can't do it without you!”

“Oh. Really?” He sounded more interested after that.

“You and I have to do it together—I mean, we'll have help, but you need to be there,” I said.

“Why?” he said.

“Because you're
honorable
. And nobody's going to hand over any money to me—I've been tainted,” I said.

He laughed, and we got into the particulars. Like how it's supposed to be really cold tomorrow, “polar bear weather” they said on the news.

Then I went out on a major iceberg. I asked if he wanted to go to the zoo with me and actually
see
the polar bears. “Since it's polar bear weather, they'll be out playing and swimming. We can see all the other animals, too. We can walk around and talk about the fund-raiser.” While I waited for his answer I pulled a tassel off the end of the couch. Oops.

“No, I'd better not,” he finally said. “It might be a date or something, and you'd hate that. Let's just do the fund-raiser. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He's still mad. Still not forgiving me.

Damn.

Event is tomorrow. One pet who won't be groomed is Oscar. He's gone again. He was outside playing in the new snow and Mr. Novotny came roaring out of the garage with his snowblower and Oscar got so freaked out he ran away.

He went down the snowy street like he was in
Call of the Wild
and he was heading for the mountains and wasn't coming back. Only he should, like White Fang. Only White Fang would eat Oscar in about two seconds.

Oscar won't make it in the wild. He won't even make it at someone else's house, because he needs his medication. And I found his collar on the street. So nobody will see the tag that says that. They'll know when Oscar has a grand mal seizure that something is up.

I was posting signs for M
ISSING
—S
ICK
D
OG
when Grant drove up beside me. “Can I help?” he said.

“Are you following me again?” I asked. Trying to make a joke. Failing.

“Your coat's kind of bright. Couldn't help seeing you,” he said. Like I was a dog myself—my “coat?”

Then I looked down and realized I had this bright pink jacket of Mom's on. I'd run out the door in such a hurry, I'd grabbed it. Me. In bright pink. In broad daylight. No wonder Grant saw me.

“We'll find him. We will,” Grant said. “Did you check the pasta factory yet?”

I nodded. “The brewery, the supermarket warehouses—everything bright and flashy I could think of. Even the X-rated theaters on Colfax.”

“I didn't know Oscar was into that,” Grant said.

“It's the flashing lights, not the porn!” I said. Then I realized Grant was only joking.

He was in a good mood again. He didn't hate me. (Wherever you are? Thanks, Oscar.) He's completely in on the Smoothie Out Your Pet plan for tomorrow. Have to work on the slogan, though.

Have to find Oscar.

Other possible slogans:

“Truth or Science Diet”

“Clean Up Your Pet and Your Diet”

“Fluffy and Smoothie—Together Again!”

Temperature dropped about twenty degrees today. Not a good sign for (a) Oscar's survival, (b) our class fund-raiser. If Random Nosebleed doesn't get their full money, they won't play. Very hard-nosed about it considering they are prone to unpredictable nasal bleeding.

We still need to buy everything else for the party—with cash, because no one will take our checks now.

Everyone really pitched in: Jane getting people to bring in their dogs and cats, two guys giving complimentary flea dips to all pets, Beth and me making smoothies, Grant and this guy Larry grooming them—the dogs, I mean, not the smoothies. It was fun. We didn't even get any dog hair in anyone's drink or sundae.

But at the end of the day, when I looked at the proceeds, I could tell we wouldn't be able to pull it off. Our New Year's party was dead in the water. Or frozen in the blender, more accurately.

“We don't have nearly enough money here. You know what I need to get this party off the ground?” I said. “A grant.”

Beth started laughing. “You know what you just said?”

“What?”

“You need
a Grant
.
Him!
” Beth pointed at Grant, who was busy trimming a Portuguese water dog with black hair.

“Quiet,” I said. But it was true.

I'd been worried about Mom all day, how her meeting went with MegaPhone. When I got home, she wasn't there. She came in about an hour later, completely happy. She hadn't been there at all. She'd been shopping—buying cell phones for all of us. The meeting was called off because the level of consumer complaints was so high, the state has created a special commission to investigate.

MegaPhone offered to give every consumer a $10 credit for the inconveniences. Governor said no, that wouldn't even begin to cover it. He turned it over to the consumer attorney general, or someone like that.

Ha! See how
you
like being under the umbrella of suspicion.

Mom and I spent most of the night calling each other on our new cell phone numbers from different rooms of the house. Cracking up.

I only got Mr. Novotny's house once when I tried to call Mom. I didn't tell her about it.

An absolutely incredible thing just happened! Grandma and Grandpa Callahan greeted me at breakfast with a huge surprise.

“We don't want your party to be canceled.” They handed me a check for a lot of money, made out to the student council.

“Especially not because of that Tom person,” Grandma said. “He ought to be arrested, that's what they should do with him.”

“I want my lighter,” Grandpa said. “But if I can't have that, I want you kids to have fun tonight.”

My eyes widened as I stared at the check. “But—but—this is too much money,” I said. “Don't you need this?” For your Viagra prescription? I thought.

They said they wanted to be involved in my life and do something for the community. And they could see how hard I was working, and how I could make a difference, how everyone needed to have a good time now and then. I had to promise them a hundred times that none of the money would go toward alcohol or drugs.