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Authors: Leslie Margolis
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was a long time ago.
“It’s just a stupid box,” I said, opening the lid and checking to see that the keys and all my other dog-walking things were still there.
“I don’t need any of that junk,” Ivy said. “And I wasn’t going to take all of your cash.”
“Oh, sorry for the confusion. I should’ve known you were only going to steal a little from me. You know, since it’s my birthday and all.” I held out my hand and she gave up the stack of bills. I counted it in front of her—figuring it was all there but knowing it would annoy her.
“I only need some of it and I can explain.”
I was so angry I was shaking. “It looks pretty obvious to me, Ivy. First you crash my party and then you try to steal from me? Like it isn’t enough to torture me at school every day? You have to come to my house and ruin my weekends, too?”
“I don’t torture you,” she said. “And the money is for Kermit.”
“You’re stealing money for your dog?” I asked. “Well, that certainly clears things up. What is it, credit card debt? Poor guy. I didn’t realize he was such a big spender.”
“Don’t be like this, Maggie. I’m serious. Kermit’s in trouble.”
Ivy pulled a small blue note card from her back pocket and handed it to me. “I wanted to tell you, but I figured this would be easier. And for the record, I was going to pay you back.”
I grabbed the note. The printing was so neat it almost looked typed.
Want to see Kermit again? Bring $100 in an unmarked envelope to the dog beach in Prospect Park tomorrow at noon. Tape it to the nearest park bench and walk away. Make sure you come alone.
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Someone stole Kermit and they’re holding him for ransom,” she said. “And no one else knows—not even Katie or Eve and especially not my parents, so you have to promise me you’ll keep quiet.”
I glanced at her skeptically. “Is this a joke?”
“No, it’s serious.” The way her voice broke, the way her whole posture seemed off—anxious, really—made me believe her. “And you can’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not promising a thing,” I said. “But you’d still better explain.”
“Fine.” Ivy huffed out a small breath in angry defeat. “My parents are in England for two weeks, visiting my grandma because she’s sick, and they left me with my other grandma and she was out with her bridge club, so I took Kermit to a stoop sale where I found this very cool top and then I saw a bunch of Diane von Furstenberg wrap dresses in the window at Beacon’s Closet and—” Ivy paused and looked me up and down. “Beacon’s Closet is on Fifth Avenue. They sell—”
“I know what Beacon’s Closet is.”
“Just checking.” She held up her hands, all fake innocent.
Ivy’s always been way into old clothes and she’s got this whole reverse-snobbery attitude about it. She prides herself on finding cool vintage stuff at used-clothing stores and stoop sales and even online. And it is a skill. It’s just, I don’t know why she thinks this makes her better than other people. Everyone has something they’re good at. And for me, it’s not fashion. But so what? “I’m not stupid.”
“I know. I’m just telling you. It was an emergency. The dress display was adorable, but I had Kermit, so—”
I cut her off. “Did you wash your hands really well after you cleaned up after him?”
“Maggie!”
“I’m just saying. Dogs carry all types of icky diseases.” I did my best imitation of her. I couldn’t help myself.
“Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? It was just a joke.”
“Well, you forgot to make it funny.”
“Oh, who cares? No one heard.”
“Everyone heard!”
“Everyone?” She raised her eyebrows, all condescending. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Everyone in the Pizza Den. Milo, for instance.” I didn’t want to harp on this, but his name just slipped out.
“Well, at least no one good heard.”
“What’s that
“It’s just a stupid box,” I said, opening the lid and checking to see that the keys and all my other dog-walking things were still there.
“I don’t need any of that junk,” Ivy said. “And I wasn’t going to take all of your cash.”
“Oh, sorry for the confusion. I should’ve known you were only going to steal a little from me. You know, since it’s my birthday and all.” I held out my hand and she gave up the stack of bills. I counted it in front of her—figuring it was all there but knowing it would annoy her.
“I only need some of it and I can explain.”
I was so angry I was shaking. “It looks pretty obvious to me, Ivy. First you crash my party and then you try to steal from me? Like it isn’t enough to torture me at school every day? You have to come to my house and ruin my weekends, too?”
“I don’t torture you,” she said. “And the money is for Kermit.”
“You’re stealing money for your dog?” I asked. “Well, that certainly clears things up. What is it, credit card debt? Poor guy. I didn’t realize he was such a big spender.”
“Don’t be like this, Maggie. I’m serious. Kermit’s in trouble.”
Ivy pulled a small blue note card from her back pocket and handed it to me. “I wanted to tell you, but I figured this would be easier. And for the record, I was going to pay you back.”
I grabbed the note. The printing was so neat it almost looked typed.
Want to see Kermit again? Bring $100 in an unmarked envelope to the dog beach in Prospect Park tomorrow at noon. Tape it to the nearest park bench and walk away. Make sure you come alone.
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Someone stole Kermit and they’re holding him for ransom,” she said. “And no one else knows—not even Katie or Eve and especially not my parents, so you have to promise me you’ll keep quiet.”
I glanced at her skeptically. “Is this a joke?”
“No, it’s serious.” The way her voice broke, the way her whole posture seemed off—anxious, really—made me believe her. “And you can’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not promising a thing,” I said. “But you’d still better explain.”
“Fine.” Ivy huffed out a small breath in angry defeat. “My parents are in England for two weeks, visiting my grandma because she’s sick, and they left me with my other grandma and she was out with her bridge club, so I took Kermit to a stoop sale where I found this very cool top and then I saw a bunch of Diane von Furstenberg wrap dresses in the window at Beacon’s Closet and—” Ivy paused and looked me up and down. “Beacon’s Closet is on Fifth Avenue. They sell—”
“I know what Beacon’s Closet is.”
“Just checking.” She held up her hands, all fake innocent.
Ivy’s always been way into old clothes and she’s got this whole reverse-snobbery attitude about it. She prides herself on finding cool vintage stuff at used-clothing stores and stoop sales and even online. And it is a skill. It’s just, I don’t know why she thinks this makes her better than other people. Everyone has something they’re good at. And for me, it’s not fashion. But so what? “I’m not stupid.”
“I know. I’m just telling you. It was an emergency. The dress display was adorable, but I had Kermit, so—”
I cut her off. “Did you wash your hands really well after you cleaned up after him?”
“Maggie!”
“I’m just saying. Dogs carry all types of icky diseases.” I did my best imitation of her. I couldn’t help myself.
“Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay? It was just a joke.”
“Well, you forgot to make it funny.”
“Oh, who cares? No one heard.”
“Everyone heard!”
“Everyone?” She raised her eyebrows, all condescending. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Everyone in the Pizza Den. Milo, for instance.” I didn’t want to harp on this, but his name just slipped out.
“Well, at least no one good heard.”
“What’s that
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