not an evil kidnapper after all.”
“He reminds me of my grandpa a little,” she said.
It was hard to hear her over the squeaky wheels, which sounded like a herd of dying elephants.
In Crystal’s trailer, we could hear yelling.
“The dictator’s back?” I said.
“He’s back,” she sighed.
So we wheeled Star to my trailer instead. Mamá didn’t like dogs, and I had a feeling shewouldn’t be happy to have Star stay with us in the middle of a catastrophe.
But Mamá wasn’t home, just Dalia and Reina, watching TV. Mamá was probably still wiring the money.
I left Crystal and Star outside our door and stood in front of the TV so my sisters had to pay attention to me.
“Hermanas
, there’s something you need to see.”
They followed me outside, and I introduced them to Star. He was sitting in the wheelbarrow, and he offered them a handshake with the paw of his good leg. You could practically see their hearts melting, even though his shoulder was stinky. I explained to them how I found Star and how we fed him and trained him and then how he got hurt and was stuck in Mr. Ed’s dark shed with no windows for days.
“So you had a secret dog all this time?” Dalia said. “That’s where you always disappear to?”
I nodded.
Crystal said, “Star’s in trouble. We need to get him to a vet.”
“You got money for a vet?” Dalia asked Crystal.
She shook her head.
“Well, neither do we,” Dalia said. “Like not even five dollars for groceries.”
I was a little embarrassed she said this to Crystal. But it was true. Yesterday we had to go to the food bank, and even though the food wasn’t bad—the little plastic cups of frozen peaches were actually pretty tasty—still, it was the
food bank
. It was worse than getting your clothes at garage sales.
“Money doesn’t matter,” Crystal said. “We’ll bring Star to the vet and figure out how to pay later.”
I gave Star water and fried him bacon while Dalia looked in the phone book and found the closest vet. It was about a mile away. We wheel barrowed Star through Forest View, out to the highway, and followed the highway past the run-down hotels and Mexican grocery stores. We fed him bits of bacon along the way to keep up his spirits.
Even though Dalia didn’t like to walk, and didn’t like to be seen with kids, she only complained once,after a big blue truck blasting
rancheras
drove by. She muttered, “None of my friends better see me pushing this dog around with you two.”
Reina was a trouper, too. She had to walk twice as fast as us on her chubby little legs to keep up, but she only made us carry her for a couple of minutes.
After a half hour or so, we reached a pink cement building that said HAPPY PET VETERINARY CLINIC with a picture of a cartoon dog on one side and a cartoon cat on the other and a small sign underneath that said SE HABLA ESPAÑOL .
Crystal whispered, “Zitlally, we have to convince them to help Star. Remember, whatever happens to Star happens to your dad.”
When Crystal said that, all the quiet, scared tears inside me turned into words, a whole giant ocean of words, wave after wave after wave of words. And I knew just what I had to do with them.
I marched straight to the counter and locked eyes with a lady with black-and-orange-striped hair. In Spanish, I said,
“Señora
, we found Star and took care of him, but then he fell out of a truck and hurt his leg. We don’t have papers or tags or anything, and we don’t even know if he got his shots. But we love him and we give him bacon and we trained him to sit in a truck and beep a horn andwe pushed him all the way here in a wheelbarrow. We don’t have money to pay you. But it’s very, very important that you save him. And Crystal and me will do anything. We’ll sell lemonade all summer and bring you all the money we make. We’ll work for you and clean up dog fur and cat poop or anything you want.
Por favor, señora, por favor.”
Crystal’s mouth was
“He reminds me of my grandpa a little,” she said.
It was hard to hear her over the squeaky wheels, which sounded like a herd of dying elephants.
In Crystal’s trailer, we could hear yelling.
“The dictator’s back?” I said.
“He’s back,” she sighed.
So we wheeled Star to my trailer instead. Mamá didn’t like dogs, and I had a feeling shewouldn’t be happy to have Star stay with us in the middle of a catastrophe.
But Mamá wasn’t home, just Dalia and Reina, watching TV. Mamá was probably still wiring the money.
I left Crystal and Star outside our door and stood in front of the TV so my sisters had to pay attention to me.
“Hermanas
, there’s something you need to see.”
They followed me outside, and I introduced them to Star. He was sitting in the wheelbarrow, and he offered them a handshake with the paw of his good leg. You could practically see their hearts melting, even though his shoulder was stinky. I explained to them how I found Star and how we fed him and trained him and then how he got hurt and was stuck in Mr. Ed’s dark shed with no windows for days.
“So you had a secret dog all this time?” Dalia said. “That’s where you always disappear to?”
I nodded.
Crystal said, “Star’s in trouble. We need to get him to a vet.”
“You got money for a vet?” Dalia asked Crystal.
She shook her head.
“Well, neither do we,” Dalia said. “Like not even five dollars for groceries.”
I was a little embarrassed she said this to Crystal. But it was true. Yesterday we had to go to the food bank, and even though the food wasn’t bad—the little plastic cups of frozen peaches were actually pretty tasty—still, it was the
food bank
. It was worse than getting your clothes at garage sales.
“Money doesn’t matter,” Crystal said. “We’ll bring Star to the vet and figure out how to pay later.”
I gave Star water and fried him bacon while Dalia looked in the phone book and found the closest vet. It was about a mile away. We wheel barrowed Star through Forest View, out to the highway, and followed the highway past the run-down hotels and Mexican grocery stores. We fed him bits of bacon along the way to keep up his spirits.
Even though Dalia didn’t like to walk, and didn’t like to be seen with kids, she only complained once,after a big blue truck blasting
rancheras
drove by. She muttered, “None of my friends better see me pushing this dog around with you two.”
Reina was a trouper, too. She had to walk twice as fast as us on her chubby little legs to keep up, but she only made us carry her for a couple of minutes.
After a half hour or so, we reached a pink cement building that said HAPPY PET VETERINARY CLINIC with a picture of a cartoon dog on one side and a cartoon cat on the other and a small sign underneath that said SE HABLA ESPAÑOL .
Crystal whispered, “Zitlally, we have to convince them to help Star. Remember, whatever happens to Star happens to your dad.”
When Crystal said that, all the quiet, scared tears inside me turned into words, a whole giant ocean of words, wave after wave after wave of words. And I knew just what I had to do with them.
I marched straight to the counter and locked eyes with a lady with black-and-orange-striped hair. In Spanish, I said,
“Señora
, we found Star and took care of him, but then he fell out of a truck and hurt his leg. We don’t have papers or tags or anything, and we don’t even know if he got his shots. But we love him and we give him bacon and we trained him to sit in a truck and beep a horn andwe pushed him all the way here in a wheelbarrow. We don’t have money to pay you. But it’s very, very important that you save him. And Crystal and me will do anything. We’ll sell lemonade all summer and bring you all the money we make. We’ll work for you and clean up dog fur and cat poop or anything you want.
Por favor, señora, por favor.”
Crystal’s mouth was
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