Читать книгу The Runaway - Alison Hart - Страница 4

“FETCH, SCOOTER!” MARYELLEN Larkin tossed a chewed tennis ball across the front lawn. Scooter, the Larkin family’s aging dachshund, sat down on the grass and rolled over onto his back. “I mean, roll over,” Maryellen quickly said, snapping a rope in the air as if she were a lion tamer at the circus. Scooter yawned and wiggled his pudgy paws.

Maryellen rolled her eyes and then bowed to a pretend audience. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the fierce Leo, the African circus lion, waving adieu.”

Dropping the rope, she flopped on the ground beside Scooter. “You are so talented—as long as I give the command after you’ve done something,” she said with a chuckle. Maryellen loved to act out exciting scenes in which Scooter usually played an important role. He’d been rescued from pretend danger countless times, and even lassoed by the Lone Ranger (played by Maryellen). He’d been Thunderbolt, the wonder horse, and Sea Wolf, the pirate’s companion. Maryellen counted Scooter as one of her best friends.

Smiling up at the clouds, she scratched the dog’s stomach. It was a chilly January afternoon in Daytona Beach, and a stiff breeze ruffled the broad leaves of the palm trees on her street, but the sun was warm. Scooter loved tummy scratches, and he sighed and waved his paws again, this time at a man in a uniform striding down the sidewalk.

Maryellen popped up. “Hello, Mr. Beamer. Any mail?”

“Yes sirreee!” The postman held up a handful of envelopes. “And I believe there’s one in the stack you’ve been waiting for.”

Maryellen jumped to her feet. “Oooh—one of our contest entries?”

“Might be.” He handed her the envelopes.

She quickly leafed through them. Whoo-wee— one was from General Mills, the cereal company! Maryellen’s heart beat a little faster. She and her mom had been entering contests for weeks. She was especially proud of one cereal jingle they’d thought up: “Kids eat Wheaties for a breakfast treatie!”

At first, she and her mother had entered one contest for fun. They’d enjoyed thinking up clever rhymes for the product so much that they’d entered as many contests as they could find. “This is exercise for my brain,” Mrs. Larkin had said laughingly. The prizes were pretty exciting, too, even if they hadn’t won anything yet.

Some of the contests, like “Win a Schwinn!,” were advertised in magazines. Others, like “Win a trip to New York” on Scooter’s bag of Chow-Chow Dog Food, had directions and forms on the back of the product. To enter the Wheaties contest, Mrs. Larkin had bought boxes and boxes of the cereal and cut out the entry blanks, which they’d sent in with their jingles. Maryellen thought it was pretty smart for the companies to hold the contests, because people had to buy more products just to get the entry forms. She had forgotten how many contests they’d entered, but she was sure that this time they had won.

“Thank you, Mr. Beamer! Come on, Scooter.” She dashed onto the front steps and held open the screen door. The dachshund waddled in ahead of her and plopped on the living room rug near the spot where Beverly, Tom, and Mikey, Maryellen’s younger sister and two younger brothers, sat playing Chinese checkers.

“Mom!” Maryellen hollered as the door slammed behind her. “We got a letter from the cereal contest. I think we won!” Waving the envelopes in the air, she ran through the living room, but before she reached the kitchen, her toe caught on a lump. Oof. She and the letters went flying.

Her mom stuck her head around the doorway from the kitchen in time to see Maryellen splat on the carpet. A splash of flour dotted Mrs. Larkin’s nose. “Are you okay, Ellie?”

Beverly, Tom, and Mikey all giggled when they saw their sister sprawled on the floor. “Mawyellen twipped,” Mikey said.

“Over Scooter!” seven-year-old Beverly exclaimed, pointing to the reddish-brown lump that hadn’t budged.

“Scooter!” Maryellen scolded as she got up. He woke with a snort and wagged his tail. “Why don’t you go outside again? It’s nice and sunny.” She shooed him out the door and then gathered up the envelopes. “Look, Mom, one is from General Mills!”

“Oooh, do you think we won?” Beverly asked as she jumped to her feet, scattering marbles from the game.

“You mean do you think Mom and I won,” Maryellen said. “Of course we did—a new freezer!”

“Yippee!” Five-year-old Tom cheered and scratched his elbow at the same time. Both he and Mikey were getting over the chicken pox. Their faces and arms were splattered with dried spots, and they itched everywhere. “We can fill it with ice cream.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Mrs. Larkin bustled into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. Gingerly she took the General Mills envelope while Maryellen and her siblings gathered around.

Maryellen held her breath as her mom tore the envelope open, then bounced from foot to foot as her mother pulled out the letter and unfolded it.

“We are happy to inform you that you won…” Mrs. Larkin began.

Maryellen leaped in the air like a cheerleader. “We won! We won!” Mikey, Tom, and Beverly danced around echoing her, “We won! We won!”

“…a year’s supply of Wheaties cereal.”

Maryellen’s cheer died.

Smiling, Mrs. Larkin refolded the letter. “Well, I’m glad you four love Wheaties. We’ll be eating it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” She sighed. “Too bad we didn’t win the freezer; it would have been nice to fill with food to feed this big family.”

“I love Wheaties,” Mikey said solemnly. He was three and the only one not in school yet.

“And they have neato masks on the box that you can cut out,” Tom added.

Beverly gave Maryellen a hug. “Don’t be sad. You can have the cat mask.”

The three went back to their game as if nothing had happened. Maryellen let out a huge sigh; she’d so wanted to win. Not only would the Larkins have gotten a freezer, but her jingle would have been on TV.

She could see herself now—dressed up in her poodle skirt accepting the grand prize. She would scream and cry tears of joy like the winners on television game shows.

“Cheer up, Ellie.” Mom chucked her under the chin. “This is the first time we’ve won anything since we’ve been entering.” Bending, she whispered, “That means we’re getting closer to first prize.”

“You’re right.” Maryellen followed her mom into the kitchen. “I’d rather win a new bicycle than a freezer anyway.”

Maryellen’s bike was a hand-me-down from her oldest sister, Joan, who had handed it down to her next-oldest sister, Carolyn. The handlebars were rusty, the bell didn’t ring, and there was no kickstand.

“I know Santa didn’t bring you one for Christmas,” her mother said, reaching for the tin canister of flour, “but maybe our clever jingle will.”

Flying fast on your bike,

Windswept green flashing by,

Summer clouds in the sky,

Schwinn Starlet—Queen of the Road!

Maryellen and her mom sang their jingle together. They’d used the bike’s colors in their entry, which was sure to get the judges’ attention.

“We should hear from Schwinn any day now,” Mrs. Larkin said. “In the meantime, we still have Chow-Chow Dog Food to hear from and more contests to enter.” She held up forms they’d cut off the back of Jell-O and Rice Krispies boxes.

“Snap, Crackle, and Slurp!” Maryellen recited. It was only one of several jingles they’d thought up for the cereal.

Her mother laughed. “Keep jingling. I need to finish flouring the chicken. Joan and Jerry are coming for dinner.”

Maryellen brightened. Since her sister Joan had gotten married and had started college, the rest of the Larkins didn’t see as much of her and her husband, Jerry.

“Will you go tell Carolyn I need her help before she leaves on her date? Then you can set the table.”

Maryellen dashed down the hall to the bedroom, where she found her fifteen-year-old sister sitting in front of the mirror. Since Joan had moved out, the girls’ room needed only three beds, so now a vanity and a stool with a ruffled skirt filled one corner. Carolyn had decorated the edges of the vanity mirror with photos of movie stars cut from magazines. Maryellen had added a photo of Grandmom and Grandpop, and in the middle, Beverly had taped a paper doll of a princess wearing a tiara.

“Mom needs your help.” Maryellen propped her elbows on the vanity and watched as Carolyn brushed on mascara. She was dressed in a pink sweater set with a black scarf tied around her neck, and her blonde hair was wavy. Maryellen thought her sister looked as beautiful as the movie stars in magazines.

“Who’s your date tonight?”

“Drew.”

Maryellen giggled. “Dreamy Drew. Where are you going?” She picked up a tube of lipstick and twisted it.

“Seaside Diner for burgers and shakes,” Carolyn replied. “Then they’re having the Monday night jukebox dance competition.”

“You’re going to miss dinner with Joan and Jerry.”

“They’re meeting us there afterward. The old married couple can still jitterbug like, well, bugs. And it won’t be late. School tomorrow. But I got all my homework done so Mom said I could go.”

“I wish I was old enough to go dancing.”

Carolyn took the tube of lipstick and swiped a streak of pink on Maryellen’s cheek. “Soon enough, Ellie-bell.” Since Joan had left, Carolyn had picked up the habit of rhyming nicknames for her sister. “When you’re fifteen like me.”

Although Maryellen loved dancing, she couldn’t imagine dating, since she was only ten and fifteen was a long ways away. She was best friends with Davy Fenstermacher, who lived next door, and that was A-OK with her.

“Carolyn! Maryellen! I need help, girls!”

“Coming!” they hollered in unison. Maryellen set the table, and Carolyn made biscuits while Mrs. Larkin bathed the itchy boys in powdered oatmeal. Next, Maryellen frosted the cake for dessert, humming a silly jingle. “Gooey chocolate; covers the city; Superman saves us; because he’s so…pretty? Gritty? Witty?” Gosh, that jingle would never win anything, she thought, and why wasn’t there a Supergirl?

She tucked a dish towel into her shirt collar as a cape and, twirling around the room, arms outstretched, pretended to fly. A splat of chocolate flew off the knife and landed on the floor. “Hey,” Carolyn growled, “don’t get any of that on my outfit.”

“Sorry.” Maryellen quickly wiped up the splatters, and finished the cake with a swirly flourish. “Ta da!”

A honk sounded from outside. Carolyn stuck the biscuits in the oven, called good-bye, and dashed out the front door. Mikey and Tom ran from the bathroom draped only in towels just as Joan and Jerry came in.

At dinner, Mikey and Tom scratched and wiggled, Beverly insisted on sitting on Joan’s lap even though she was getting too big, Mr. Larkin advised Jerry about mortgages, and Mrs. Larkin asked Joan about her college classes. Bored, Maryellen plucked a piece of chicken from her drumstick and held it under the table for Scooter, who always waited patiently by her leg for a treat.

When she didn’t feel him licking it from her fingers, she bent over and peered under the tablecloth. She saw seven pairs of legs but no dachshund. That’s strange. Scooter always begs during meals. Where is he?

Maryellen whacked her forehead. Of course! She’d forgotten to give him dinner. He was probably waiting by his food bowl, wondering why she hadn’t fed him.

Excusing herself, she hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the bag of dog food from the pantry. She opened the back door and found his bowl, sitting empty on the covered stoop.

“Scooter!” Maryellen called. As she poured Chow-Chow Dog Food into his bowl, she sang his come-to-dinner song: “Chow-Chow Dog Food, Eat it up, And you’ll be a happy pup!” That was the Chow-Chow jingle that rang out over television commercials and always brought him running. But when he didn’t waddle over, she tried the new jingle she and her mother had made up:

Feed Chow-Chow Dog Food to your wolf or pup.

Every breed and size will lap it up.

Then they’ll bark for more, more, more.

So hurry and buy some at the store!

When Scooter still didn’t show, Maryellen checked under the bushes and behind the storage shed in the backyard and then hurried to the front yard. The sunny day had turned into a drizzly evening, and she shivered. She looked up and down Palmetto Street, but the street and sidewalks were empty.

Where was Scooter? She thought back to when she had last seen him. It was in the afternoon when she’d tripped over him and shooed him outside. Had he been gone all that time? Sometimes he visited the neighbors, but he was always home before dinnertime.

Maryellen frowned, worried, and sudden tears pricked her eyes. Scooter never missed a meal, which could mean only one thing—he had run away!