Dog Show Disaster Page 6

  “You know you can count on your family for anything,” Mamaw Kat said. “Ruby already talked to me about her and I headin’ up a bake sale.”

  “And I love to groom animals,” Aunt Janie added. “We can have a ‘Dog Spa’ booth, where they can get a makeover!”

  “I love that idea,” Lola said. “I can make some more camo bandannas to sell, and we can put the Carroway logo on them.”

  Ideas just kept flowing, and I was encouraged. I had no doubt the Carroway family could pull off this carnival and dog show all by themselves.

  The only problem was, we weren’t going to be by ourselves. We had a whole student body to include in the planning, and then there was Miss Lewis—who would probably hate all these ideas.

  I mean—she would probably dislike them.

  Strongly.

  After dinner, it was time for skits. There were the classic Carroway skits that show up at every comedy night—like the ones starring the “allibeaver”—a monster that’s half alligator and half beaver—that supposedly lives in the lake at our local summer camp. Tonight’s allibeaver skit featured Hunter, with duct tape, wrapping the allibeaver (my dad) in a chair, and then feeding him a S’more while telling him a story of the “Doomsberry Giant”—a red-haired, Goliath-type beast—that feeds on allibeavers.

  I loved that one.

  “Sometimes it’s fun to act out your fears,” Mamaw Kat said, and she winked my way.

  “Okay then, I’d like to perform a skit.” I stood and walked up to the front of the room. “But first, I need to talk to Kendall.” I ran over to Kendall and whispered in her ear. “I have an idea for a monster.”

  “While we’re waitin’, anyone want pie?” Mamaw moved toward the desserts that filled up the counter of the kitchen island.

  “ME!” Hunter popped up.

  “You better watch out, son. You eat too much pie and your arms could grow another two inches tonight.” Uncle Wayne followed Hunter into the kitchen.

  “What’s your idea?” Kendall asked.

  “Let’s call it the . . . Lewis-Beetle. And when teachers get bitten by it, they turn grouchy and give everyone detention. And the only way they can be cured is if someone puts a pie in their face.”

  “I love it! Do we have whipped cream in the kitchen?”

  I scrunched my eyebrows together. “Is this not a Carroway house? Of course, we have whipped cream.”

  Kendall and I planned the logistics of the skit while everyone stuffed themselves full of dessert.

  “Okay, people, I’m ready to perform my skit, and I think it will help me deal with my greatest fear.”

  Everyone rushed to take their seats.

  “Ooh, maybe this will be a new classic,” Dad said.

  I straightened up, and clasped my hands in front of me.

  “I’d like to tell you a story about a pest that is taking over Louisiana.”

  I opened my eyes wide and scrunched up my nose and lips.

  “It hovers near school grounds, and there is no bug-repellent that will keep it away.”

  I held my index finger up.

  “This pest is called . . . the Lewis-Beetle, and its bite is worse than deadly, because, if you get bitten by this beetle—you will never die. Instead, you will become a grouchy teacher and you will scare students . . . forever!”

  I filled the room with a devilish laugh.

  My little cousin Chase shrieked, “Like a zombie teacher?!?”

  “Yes,” I said, and I leaned forward toward the crowd. “You will become a zombie teacher.”

  Mamaw Kat put both her hands on her cheeks and gasped, “The horrors!”

  My parents and aunts and uncles chuckled, but only a little.

  “I think all my teachers were zombies,” Uncle Saul said.

  “Well, the Lewis-Beetle has been around a long time,” I said. “And all of us have been impacted in some way. But—good news. Today, scientists announced that they have discovered a cure for the Lewis-Beetle bite, one that will reverse the curse and make the grouchy teacher nice again.”

  “What is it?” Chase asked. He was curled up in a tight little ball in Uncle Saul’s lap.

  “Well, I’m going to tell you right now.”

  I nodded at Kendall to give her the cue, and then I took my hand and slapped my left forearm.

  “Ouch! What was that?” I pulled my hand away, and inspected the imaginary bite. “OH, NO!!!! Something bit me!” I put my face closer to my arm. “And the bite is the shape of, oh, no, a jaggedy letter Z!”

  Chase screamed, “ZOMBIE!”

  “Allie,” Mom said. “Tone it down a little. This is comedy night, you know.”

  “Trust me, Mom, it’s about to turn hilarious.”

  I paced back and forth in front of the room. “What am I going to do? I think I’ve been bit by the Lewis-Beetle!” I slapped a hand over my heart. “Wait, I know what I have to do.” I put on my best grumpy face and pointed at my dad. “I have to give YOU detention!” Then I pointed to Papaw Ray. “And you, sir, DETENTION!” Then I pointed to Aunt Janie. “And you, young lady, you need to STOP saying UMMMMMM!” Then I walked toward Uncle Wayne. “Drop down and give me 20 pushups! NOW!”

  And, on that cue, Kendall came out of the kitchen, carrying the cure. She shot by me, like a flash, and shoved a whipped cream pie in my face.

  The Carroway family erupted in laughter as the pie tin fell to the floor and left my cream-covered face staring at them. I took my fingers and pulled whipped cream from my eye sockets. Then I stuck out my tongue, licked my lips, and smiled. A pie in the face gets laughs no matter what.

  “Students,” I said, “I feel all tingly!” I looked down at my arm. “And my bite is gone!”

  “Thank you, Jesus!” Chase yelled.

  “And I feel . . . different. In fact, I feel joyful, and happy, and . . . nice. Okay, students! No more detention! No more pushups, and you can say UMMMM as much as you like.”

  Everyone cheered.

  I wiped some cream off my cheeks and licked it off my fingers.

  “And now, anytime you see a teacher who looks like they’ve been bitten by the Lewis-Beetle, you know what to do to cure them. The End.”

  “Allie, what am I going to do with you?” Mom came over with a paper towel and wiped some whipped cream off the floor.

  I shrugged. “What? It’s a fictional story. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.”

  She shook her head. “I know Miss Lewis can be difficult at times, but really . . . a Lewis-Beetle?”

  “At times?” Dad replied. “Do you remember Cody’s detention year?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “Mamaw said it helps to act out your fears, and I do feel a little less scared now.”

  “Sounds like you and this Miss Lewis could use some prayer,” Papaw Ray said.

  “Yeah. We need lots. It’s a big project, and I am worried that we won’t get along.”

  “Well,” Papaw Ray said. “Go clean up your face and then we’ll have a family prayer.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I made my way to the bathroom, and my girl cousins followed me.

  “That was hilarious,” Kendall licked some whipped cream off her fingers. “I never knew how satisfying it would be to hit you in the face with a pie.”

  Ruby handed me a washcloth. “The funniest part was when the tin fell and we saw all the features of your face, but they were all creamy.”

  “I almost peed my pants right then,” Lola said.

  I wiped the excess cream from my face and then splashed more water to finally get everything off.

  “I wish I could have seen that. It just looked goopy from my end.”

  “Well, I’m about to give you your wish.” Lola pulled her phone out so I could see it. “I videoed the whole thing.”

  CHAPTER 13

  0600

  Comedy night ended early, because it was a school night. I was thankful for Papaw Ray and his prayer for me, that
I would have strength and courage to follow through on my commitment as Student Project Manager—even though God had thrown me a curveball.

  “Wait—” I called out quickly, after we all said amen. “God threw me the curveball? Isn’t the devil the one who does that?”

  “Depends,” Papaw had said. “God knows what we need more than we do, and maybe he knows that right now you need a little stretchin.’ Smooth isn’t always promised to us, Allie-girl. Just ask the prophets, the disciples, and Jesus—for that matter. They sure didn’t have it smooth sailin’.”

  The next morning, while Mom was driving me to school for my 0600 meeting, I rolled my eyes, remembering Papaw’s words.

  Stretchin’.

  That didn’t sound fun at all.

  Mom—who was in her sweats and oversized T-shirt—put the SUV in park and rested her head on her arms on the steering wheel. “I need coffee.”

  I don’t drink coffee, but I could feel her pain. “Thanks for bringing me, Mom. I know it was early. See what happens when the Lewis-Beetle bites? Everyone suffers.”

  Mom laughed and got out of the car. I flopped out on the other side, and she came around and gave me a warm hug before she sent me off to Room 220.

  “Don’t hit her with a pie, okay? Prayer is the real cure.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try not to.”

  “Allie . . .”

  I smiled. “Just kidding.” And then I ran off toward the meeting, expecting torture of some kind.

  Okay, Lord, bring on the stretchin’.

  I pulled the door open. It seemed heavier than usual.

  “Come on in, Carroway. It’s six o’clock straight up, so we’ll have to work on your punctuality, but at least you’re here.”

  Miss Lewis stood by her desk, dressed for work already, in navy blue slacks and a red blouse. Her brown, shoulder-length hair was perfectly styled in layers, with some flippy ends curling out here and there. She was even wearing makeup. Apparently, she wasn’t going to be doing pushups.

  “Let’s see . . .” Miss Lewis reached into a familiar-looking white bag. “Are you a glaze, cake, or apple fritter kind of girl?”

  Donuts?

  She walked over and handed me the bag. “I got an assortment. I know you have nut allergies, so I opted for sprinkles on the cake. Oh, and I have another bag of donut holes if you like those.”

  “Thank you.” I opened and stared into the bag. I love every kind of donut. And I especially like donut holes.

  I reached in and pulled out a glazed twist. “I’ll start with this one.” I took a bite. Pure goodness.

  The door behind me squeaked open. I turned, and almost choked on the glaze when I came eye to eye with Madison Doonsberry.

  Madison grinned much too big to be appropriate. “Good morning, Allie.”

  I swallowed the brick in my throat. “Good morning.”

  “You’re two minutes late, Doonsberry,” Miss Lewis said. “We’ll have to work on that. But at least you beat your principal.”

  As if on cue, Mr. Langley came breezing through the door, checking his watch.

  He put his hand out. “Megan, I know, fifteen minutes early is “on time” for you, but it couldn’t be helped. I was dealing with a broken sprinkler that was threatening to flood the parking lot.”

  Miss Lewis sighed. “That’s fine, Daniel. These ladies just arrived, and we can’t get in until 6:30 anyway.”

  “Get in?” I asked. “Are we going somewhere?”

  Miss Lewis walked over to a worktable at the side of the room that had several chairs pulled up to it. She sat down in one of the chairs. “You all can have a seat.” She gestured to the extra chairs. It was amusing watching Mr. Langley try to fold his long legs under the table.

  “We’re going to visit my best friend—Mrs. Mellon—in the hospital, just as soon as she’s done with breakfast.”

  Best friend?!?

  “How is Mrs. Mellon doing?” Madison asked. A nice question, which surprised me.

  “She’s tired, but she’s a typical teacher. She can’t focus on resting until she gets her lesson plans in for the sub. So, we’re going to pick those up, and she arranged to get us in early, so she can hand off all the information we need to get this project underway.”

  “Oh,” was all I could say. I took another bite of my donut. So many shockers, and it wasn’t even 6:15 yet!

  “Do you have permission to take these students off campus?” Mr. Langley tried to maneuver his legs under the table and ended up pushing it toward Miss Lewis instead.

  Miss Lewis got up, walked to her desk, and pulled a phone out of her purse. “They both have off-campus waivers signed for fieldtrips, and just to be safe, I texted both parents last night and have approval right here.” She tapped her phone.

  “You texted my mom last night?” The twisted glaze was now twisting in my esophagus. Did Miss Lewis text my mom during comedy night, and possibly even during the Lewis-Beetle skit?

  Miss Lewis nodded. “Yes, did she not tell you?”

  “No. But we were having a big family get-together, so I was hanging out with my cousins. She probably just forgot.”

  Madison piped up at that. “I just love your cousins. I hear you all laughing when I walk by that Lickety Split clubhouse of yours.” Then she flipped her hair, crossed her arms in front of herself, and looked down at the ground.

  Madison was dressed like Lola would be if she had somewhere to be at 0600. Red dress dotted with tan mini-flowers, a tan cardigan sweater, and ankle high boots that matched the sweater and flowers.

  “Do you two live in the same neighborhood?” Miss Lewis gathered some spiral notebooks from her desk and plunked them down in front of both Madison and me.

  “I actually live in Allie’s old house, though it hardly looks the same inside.” Madison smirked.

  Miss Lewis raised an eyebrow at Madison. “I see. Well, perhaps living near each other will come in handy over the next two months.”

  I doubt it. It’s been a nightmare so far.

  I cleared my throat. “I don’t think I understand.”

  Miss Lewis sat down and put both elbows on the table. She rested her chin on her clasped hands. “Allie, I was very impressed with your idea for the carnival and dog show. So impressed, that I was going to offer to help Mrs. Mellon with it this year, because I could tell this was going to be a bigger undertaking than normal. Well, then she had to go and give birth. But it’s still a big project. And then Madison arrived at our school yesterday, with some big ideas, and a celebrity dad who can pull in some resources.”

  I began to sweat as Miss Lewis continued.

  “And then I seriously considered your note from yesterday . . .”

  Ugh. That wasn’t my note!

  “. . . and I thought it would be a great idea to add Madison to the steering committee, since she didn’t get a chance to run in the election.”

  Mr. Langley bit into a powdered donut, sending a covering of white all over his blue dress shirt.

  “And isn’t it just icing on the cake that you already know each other and live in the same neighborhood?”

  Madison scooched in her chair, eyes beaming. “Oh, Miss Lewis, I am so honored that you would invite me to serve the school in this capacity.”

  “Well, the final decision is up to Allie.” Miss Lewis searched my eyes, and I hoped she wasn’t using some super-power where she could read minds or emotions. Because if she was, she would be seeing a girl throwing an internal temper tantrum.

  “What do you say, Allie?”

  Miss Lewis leaned in toward me

  Normally, I tell it like it is. And if this were a “normal” situation, I would have said, “NO WAY!”

  But Miss Lewis was staring me down, so all that came out was, “I think that is a great idea.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Baby Mellon

  The car ride to the hospital was a nightmare. I was seated next to Madison in the back of Miss Lewis’s red Volkswagen Beetle. Not
much space to breathe. I wondered how Mr. Langley was managing to cram his legs in the front, but at least he didn’t have to be squished next to someone who hated him.

  I kinda got a laugh out of the fact that Miss Lewis drove a beetle, though.

  “We’re here to see Christie Mellon in the OB ward,” Miss Lewis said to the clerk at the hospital information window. “We have prior permission.”

  The clerk looked us over, and checked Mr. Langley’s and Miss Lewis’s ID. “When you get in there, you can only have two in at a time.”

  “Oh? That’s unfortunate. We have an important planning meeting.” Miss Lewis gave that stern, military face to the clerk.

  She immediately backed off. “Fine, then. But only one adult at a time.”

  The clerk buzzed the door open.

  “I’ll sit in the waiting area and keep Greg company if he’s here.” Mr. Langley took off to the left where the signs pointed to the lobby.

  Miss Lewis, Madison, and I made our way through the echo-y hallways and finally reached the elevator that took us to the OB ward on the 4th floor. The first thing we saw when we stepped out was the baby nursery.

  “Aww, look how cute they are!” Madison rushed to the window and made little googly noises at the babies.

  “Mrs. Mellon’s baby won’t be in there,” Miss Lewis said. “The NICU is around the corner.”” Miss Lewis and I walked over to the window to join Madison.

  “See that one?” Miss Lewis pointed to a baby wrapped in a blue blanket wearing a matching beanie. “It says he’s 9 pounds, 3 ounces. Subtract 7.9 pounds, and you have little Bethany.”

  “Wow.” That’s all I could say, and then I said a silent prayer.

  Help her grow healthy, Lord. This must be so scary for her family.

  Miss Lewis checked her watch. “Okay, troops, let’s move. We don’t have much time.”

  We worked our way around a couple of corners, and came upon the nurses’ station.

  “Hello, again,” a kind-looking, middle-aged nurse said to Miss Lewis. “Your friend is doing a little better today. She slept surprisingly well, considering that ordeal yesterday.”