Drake the Dandy Read Free Page A

Grady,” Mrs. Williams says. “What do you think, Kinsey?”
    â€œSure,” she agrees, smiling shyly as the class cheers.
    When Kinsey takes her seat in the middle of the room, I escort her and lay quietly at her feet, like I am trained to do.
    I’ve got a good feeling about this whole “school” thing.

7
    Lunch Time
    A fter a morning filled with lessons in math and reading, Mrs. Williams announces that it is time for lunch. I am happy to hear this, just to be able to get up and move around a little. Staying curled up at Kinsey’s feet for so long makes me need to stand and stretch.
    Kinsey stands up and takes my leash in her hand. All at once, we are surrounded by a group of girls.
    â€œCan we sit with you today?” one of them asks. It is the same wild-haired girl who first asked to pet me. My tail wags with excitement.
    Kinsey turns around and looks behind us before she answers with a quiet, wide-eyed, “Okay.” I guess she’s shocked that the girl is actually talking to her. I remember how many times she’s whispered to me at night, telling me how much trouble she has making friends. I bet she’s never had anyone ask to sit with her before.
    When we form a line at the front of the room, the whole group of girls lets Kinsey and me lead the way. Kinsey keeps glancing back at them, and the small smile on her face just keeps growing bigger.
    Our line moves in single file until we get to the cafeteria. Carrying two lunch sacks— one for me and one for herself—Kinsey turns to the wild-haired girl. “Where do you want to sit?”
    â€œLet’s go over there,” she says, pointing to the end of a table toward the front. Then, she announces to the group, “I want to sit by Kinsey.”
    â€œI call sitting on her other side!” a girl with long hair and glasses says quickly.
    â€œCan I sit across from you?” a tall girl who smells like flowers asks her.
    â€œSure,” Kinsey says with a bewildered smile.
    When Kinsey sits down at the table, I sit on the ground right next to her. I make myself as tall as I can as I wait for her to place my container of food on the ground.
    â€œAww, he’s so cute!” the long-haired girl says. “Look at how he just sits there, waiting for you to get his food out. He’s such a good dog.”
    â€œYeah, he really is,” Kinsey agrees, rubbing my head a little before she places my container on the floor. If my head swells up any bigger, it may burst.
    â€œSo he came all the way from California?” someone asks as I begin to wolf down my food.
    â€œYep. We got to fly on an airplane to get him and bring him home,” Kinsey replies.
    â€œDid you get to see the beach while you were there?” someone asks.
    Before Kinsey can answer, another girl interrupts with, “We went to the beach in Florida last week!”
    For the rest of the lunch period, the girls talk nonstop. I learn a few names through their conversations—the wild-haired girl on the left is Morgan, the long-haired girl with glasses on the right is Lynn, and the one who smells like flowers across from Kinsey is Gracie.
    Kinsey is the quietest one of the group, but by the end of the lunch period, it’s clear that she has made some friends. I can actually feel her confidence rising by the minute. All the little nerves in her stomach that jumped around like frogs at the beginning of lunch have settled down.
    This day just keeps getting better and better.

8
    The End of the First Day
    W hen Kinsey’s mom comes to get us after school, Kinsey practically leaps into the backseat. Her good mood is contagious and I jump in right behind her.
    â€œHow was the first day?” she asks, looking at Kinsey in the rearview mirror as she pulls out of the parking lot.
    Kinsey grins. “It was the best day of school I’ve ever had in my whole life.”
    Her mother’s smiling blue eyes shine in the