At recess, Carter walked up to his teacher’s desk, holding his stomach. He rarely missed school. In fact, he hadn’t stayed home a single day.
“Aren’t you feeling well, Carter?” Ms. Jensen asked in a soft caring voice that reminded him of his mother’s.
“I have a stomachache.”
She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, then took him down to the nurse’s office. Mrs. Weaver was about the same age as his grandmother and had hair that was completely white. She spoke soothingly as she took his temperature. After she’d finished looking at the thermometer, she said he didn’t have a fever and suggested he lie down on the couch for a little while.
Carter tried to sleep but he couldn’t stop thinking. After a few minutes he sat up, gazing idly out the office window—and that was when he saw it.
A dog.
Outside in the schoolyard was a dog just like the one Carter had imagined. A dog with big, floppy ears. He was exactly the right size, and he jumped and leaped at the students and then chased after a ball. He was skinny and dirty, but Carter could tell that he was a good dog.
He was exactly the kind of dog Carter wanted, although this one didn’t have red fur. It was dark and his plumy tail was clumped with mud, but that didn’t stop him from wagging it furiously. Watching the other kids play with him made Carter’s stomach stop hurting.
“I couldn’t reach your mother,” Mrs. Weaver told him when she returned.
“I feel better now,” he murmured.
“Would you like to go back to your classroom?”
Carter nodded just as the bell ending recess rang. If the dog was still on the playground at lunchtime, Carter would play with him. A sense of exhilaration filled him and he could hardly wait for the midday break.
Carter ate his lunch in record time, then raced outside to the playground without bothering to button up his coat. He’d left Timmy discussing Christmas plans with Isaiah—and enjoying his chocolate chip cookies. The cold, sharp air hit him right in the face, but he didn’t care. There weren’t many kids outside, but the mutt was there, walking around the yard, sniffing, his nose to the ground. When he saw Carter, the dog instantly ran toward him, looking up with dark pleading eyes.
“Hi, boy,” Carter said and dropped to one knee. He withdrew the Twinkie from his pocket, pulled it from its wrapper and fed it to the dog.
The mutt ate the Twinkie in two bites. The poor thing was starved. Now Carter wished he hadn’t eaten any of his lunch. He wished he had more food to give his new friend. Thinking quickly, he hurried back into the school. His sister had complained that morning about another peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. If she didn’t want it, Carter did. Not for himself but for the stray.
As he’d expected, his sister was with her friends. She’d eaten everything in her lunch but the sandwich.
“Bailey,” he said, breathless now. “Can I have your sandwich?”
Bailey squinted up at him. “What did you do with yours?”
“I gave it to Timmy.”
Bailey hesitated. “I was going to eat mine.”
“No, you weren’t. Come on, Bailey, I need that sandwich.”
“What’ll you trade me for it?” she asked.
Carter didn’t have a lot of time. If he didn’t hurry back outside, some other kid would make friends with the dog. He might even leave the schoolyard. “You can watch whatever you want on TV Saturday morning.”
His sister’s eyes widened. It was a generous offer and she knew it. They only had one television set and their mother made them take turns choosing what to see. Bailey liked sissy stuff, while Carter liked action heroes.
“All Saturday morning?”
Carter nodded. With a smug look, Bailey handed over her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.
Grabbing it, Carter hurried back outside. The playground was crowded with kids by then, but as soon as the mutt saw Carter, he bounded across the playground toward him.
Once again, Carter got down on one knee. He wiped the muddy hair from the dog’s eyes; his own hands got grimy in the process but Carter didn’t care. Taking the sandwich out of his pocket, he tore off the plastic and held it out to the mutt. The bread disappeared as quickly as the Twinkie had.
“You shouldn’t be feeding that dog.”
Carter glanced up to find Mr. Nicholson, the sixth-grade teacher, who was on schoolyard duty during lunch, scowling down at him. “I’ve already called Animal Control about this dog once.”
“No!” An automatic protest came from Carter. He didn’t want this friendly dog to go to a shelter.
“He doesn’t belong on the playground.”
“He’s a nice dog.”
Mr. Nicholson didn’t agree or disagree. “I don’t want to see you feeding him again. Is that understood?”
Carter nodded. The teacher didn’t exactly say Carter couldn’t feed the stray. What he’d said was that he didn’t want to see Carter do it.
The teacher went off to intervene in an argument between some sixth-grade kids, and Carter petted the dog’s face. “It’s all right, boy, I’ll bring you food. Will you be here tomorrow?”
The mutt looked back at him with intense brown eyes, as if to say he’d be waiting for Carter.
On his way back to class, Carter washed his hands. He wondered how long the dog had been lost. He sure was dirty, and he seemed lonely, too. Carter’s heart ached for him. What the stray needed was a good home and a family, just like everyone did. Carter hoped the Animal Control people didn’t catch him before Carter figured out how to bring him to his house.
First he had to explain to his father that this dog wasn’t a puppy but a grown-up dog that needed a home. This wasn’t an expensive dog, either. He was a plain ordinary dog. He’d probably already had his shots.