Read Online How to Steal a Dog by Barbara O'Connor - Free Book Online Page B

eye patch.
    But what I saw outside the window that day was nothing like what I had seen in my mind. There wasn’t one single sign. None. Nowhere. I tried to swallow my disappointment and tell myself to be patient. The signs would be up after school, for sure.
    â€œY’all go straight on back to the car after school, okay?” Mama said, pulling over to the curb.
    â€œWe will,” I said.
    â€œAnd stay there, Georgina.”
    â€œWe will.”
    â€œAnd help Toby with his homework.”
    I nodded and watched her drive away, then I grabbed Toby’s arm.
    â€œDid you see any signs?” I said.
    â€œNope.”
    â€œDern.” I stamped my foot.

    â€œMaybe that lady doesn’t care about Willy,” Toby said.
    I shook my head. “No way. She cares,” I said. “Who wouldn’t care about a dog like that?”
    Toby shrugged. “Maybe she hasn’t got any money,” he said.
    â€œShe owns that whole street, Toby,” I said.
    A school bus had pulled up and kids came pouring out and rushing toward the front door of the school. Me and Toby pushed our way through and went inside.
    â€œListen,” I said. “Meet me at the flagpole after school. We got to take that food over to Willy. Then we can look for the reward signs. I bet they’ll be up by this afternoon.”
    â€œMama said we had to stay in the car,” Toby said.
    I rolled my eyes. “She won’t even know what we do. She’ll be in the coffee shop.”
    I watched Toby walk away from me as he headed toward his class. His clothes were all wrinkled and his hair was long and tangled. He was sure a pitiful sight. I wondered if that was how I looked.
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    When Mr. White asked me for the millionth time if I had given those letters to my parents, I lied again. I said I had, but Mama and Daddy were real busy working and all. I told him my daddy was going to call him any day now. Yeah, right, I thought. That was a good one.

    I felt bad lying to Mr. White. He was the nicest teacher I’d ever had. He didn’t get mad when my science report had fried chicken grease on it. He hadn’t said one word when I didn’t have a costume for our play about the Boston Tea Party like all the other kids did. And he let me go to the nurse’s office, even when he knew I wasn’t one bit sick.
    But when he asked me about those letters, what else could I do but lie?
    Luanne didn’t hardly even talk to me all day. I was wearing the same clothes I had on yesterday, and I thought I saw her make a face when I walked into class that morning. I thought I saw Liza poke her at recess and point at me. I thought I heard my name every time I walked by kids giggling and whispering and all.
    So who cares , I told myself. I didn’t care about any of those kids anymore. Maybe not even Luanne. I found myself doing stuff I never would have done before we started living in a car. Stuff that I knew would make kids poke each other and laugh at me. Like, I took Melissa Gavin’s half-eaten granola bar out of the trash and put it in Willy’s food bag. And when Jake Samson called me a garbage picker, I just kept my mouth shut and went on back to my desk like I didn’t care.
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    After school I waited at the flagpole for Toby; then we headed off toward the old house to check on Willy. Toby
kept whining about how his backpack was too heavy and his feet hurt and all, but I ignored him.
    I found a plastic margarine tub on the side of the road and wiped the dirt off of it with the edge of my shirt.
    â€œWe can use this for Willy’s water bowl,” I said, tucking it into my backpack.
    Toby kept saying, “Slow down,” as we made our way up the gravel road. He splashed right through the muddy puddles, not even caring that his shoes were getting soaked and his legs were covered with mud.
    But I didn’t slow down. I was dying to get to Willy. I needed to see him. I sure