Read Online Girl's Best Friend by Leslie Margolis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Margolis
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supposed to mean?”
“Milo’s a dork. He doesn’t count.”
I started to object but stopped myself. Milo was so much more than a dork, but maybe it was better if Ivy thought of him that way. There’d be less competition. Plus, I didn’t want her knowing I liked him.
“Wait a second.” Ivy smiled like she could read my mind. “You like him.”
“Who?”
“Milo. It’s obvious.” She clapped and said, “Ha! That’s so typical.”
“I don’t like him,” I said, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. “And what do you mean by typical?”
“Just that he’s totally your type—tall, skinny, floppy-haired. All quiet so you never know what he’s thinking. I guess he’s not hideous, but he definitely needs a wardrobe update. Have you noticed that sweater he always wears? The one with the big hole?”
“Tell me more about Kermit. What time did you lose him?”
“What?” she asked. “Oh yeah. I tied him up at around three-thirty and he was gone by a quarter to four.”
“How did you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“What kind of knot?”
“I don’t know. Square? You know I was always bad at knots in Girl Scouts.” Ivy grinned and I had to smile back. We’d both dropped out of Girl Scouts in the third grade—right before we got our rope-tying badges—because Ivy claimed it was a fascist organization. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but it sounded cool, so I kept saying it, too, and eventually our parents got sick of hearing us complain and signed us up for a pottery class instead.
“Anyway, it was only a few minutes,” Ivy said.
“Before you said fifteen.”
Ivy cringed guiltily. “Okay, I don’t know exactly how long it was. I guess I sort of lost track.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you left him on the street.”
“Do you know how bad I feel? And I already told you it was an emergency … ”
“A shopping emergency?”
“Yes!” Ivy screamed. “I abandoned my dog so I could shop. I’m a horrible person! I can’t even walk by Beacon’s Closet without feeling sick.”
“Did you see anything suspicious? Or anyone? Do you think someone followed you, maybe? Can you think of anyone who might do this?”
“Like, does Kermit have any enemies?” she asked. “He’s a dog!”
“I know. I’m just asking. Tell me what happened again. From the beginning this time.”
Ivy took a deep breath and huffed. “Fine. So I tied Kermit to a parking meter directly in front of the store, where I’d be able to see him through the window the whole time. Then I went inside and—”
“If you could see him the whole time, how did he get dognapped?”
Ivy frowned. “I could see him when I was looking at dresses, but the sunglasses display case is in the back.”
I groaned.
“It’s not my fault,” said Ivy. “I made one tiny mistake. In one moment, I had the perfect dress for the fall dance. And in the next, my dog vanished.”
“That’s horrible,” I said. I meant it, too. And in the back of my mind, I also marveled at how she already had an outfit for the dance, which was a whole month away. I had no idea if I was even going. And she’d already figured out what to wear?
I wondered if she had a date. Then I got annoyed with myself for caring.
Meanwhile, Ivy sat cross-legged on my floor, in tears. She seemed so upset I had to believe her.
I handed her a tissue. She blew her nose, loudly, and went on. “I found this cop a block over and I tried to tell him, but he didn’t believe me. I think he thought it was a joke. The way he looked at me—like I was wasting his time. It was awful. And I tried calling the police later on, but they said that dognapping is not a nine-one-one type of emergency and could they please speak to my parents. So I said no and hung up fast. And now Kermit’s gone and my parents will be home in ten days and they’ll never forgive me.”
“You didn’t tell your grandma?” I asked.
“No. She’s kind of forgetful and she
“Milo’s a dork. He doesn’t count.”
I started to object but stopped myself. Milo was so much more than a dork, but maybe it was better if Ivy thought of him that way. There’d be less competition. Plus, I didn’t want her knowing I liked him.
“Wait a second.” Ivy smiled like she could read my mind. “You like him.”
“Who?”
“Milo. It’s obvious.” She clapped and said, “Ha! That’s so typical.”
“I don’t like him,” I said, but I couldn’t meet her gaze. “And what do you mean by typical?”
“Just that he’s totally your type—tall, skinny, floppy-haired. All quiet so you never know what he’s thinking. I guess he’s not hideous, but he definitely needs a wardrobe update. Have you noticed that sweater he always wears? The one with the big hole?”
“Tell me more about Kermit. What time did you lose him?”
“What?” she asked. “Oh yeah. I tied him up at around three-thirty and he was gone by a quarter to four.”
“How did you do it?”
“What do you mean?”
“What kind of knot?”
“I don’t know. Square? You know I was always bad at knots in Girl Scouts.” Ivy grinned and I had to smile back. We’d both dropped out of Girl Scouts in the third grade—right before we got our rope-tying badges—because Ivy claimed it was a fascist organization. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, but it sounded cool, so I kept saying it, too, and eventually our parents got sick of hearing us complain and signed us up for a pottery class instead.
“Anyway, it was only a few minutes,” Ivy said.
“Before you said fifteen.”
Ivy cringed guiltily. “Okay, I don’t know exactly how long it was. I guess I sort of lost track.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you left him on the street.”
“Do you know how bad I feel? And I already told you it was an emergency … ”
“A shopping emergency?”
“Yes!” Ivy screamed. “I abandoned my dog so I could shop. I’m a horrible person! I can’t even walk by Beacon’s Closet without feeling sick.”
“Did you see anything suspicious? Or anyone? Do you think someone followed you, maybe? Can you think of anyone who might do this?”
“Like, does Kermit have any enemies?” she asked. “He’s a dog!”
“I know. I’m just asking. Tell me what happened again. From the beginning this time.”
Ivy took a deep breath and huffed. “Fine. So I tied Kermit to a parking meter directly in front of the store, where I’d be able to see him through the window the whole time. Then I went inside and—”
“If you could see him the whole time, how did he get dognapped?”
Ivy frowned. “I could see him when I was looking at dresses, but the sunglasses display case is in the back.”
I groaned.
“It’s not my fault,” said Ivy. “I made one tiny mistake. In one moment, I had the perfect dress for the fall dance. And in the next, my dog vanished.”
“That’s horrible,” I said. I meant it, too. And in the back of my mind, I also marveled at how she already had an outfit for the dance, which was a whole month away. I had no idea if I was even going. And she’d already figured out what to wear?
I wondered if she had a date. Then I got annoyed with myself for caring.
Meanwhile, Ivy sat cross-legged on my floor, in tears. She seemed so upset I had to believe her.
I handed her a tissue. She blew her nose, loudly, and went on. “I found this cop a block over and I tried to tell him, but he didn’t believe me. I think he thought it was a joke. The way he looked at me—like I was wasting his time. It was awful. And I tried calling the police later on, but they said that dognapping is not a nine-one-one type of emergency and could they please speak to my parents. So I said no and hung up fast. And now Kermit’s gone and my parents will be home in ten days and they’ll never forgive me.”
“You didn’t tell your grandma?” I asked.
“No. She’s kind of forgetful and she