Goldie Read Free

little teeth.
    “Hey!” cried Charles. “Do I look like a puppy to you?” He knew that puppies chewed on one another all the time. Goldie would have to learn that chewing on people was not okay.
    Charles held Goldie in his arms, giggling as shelicked and chewed at his earlobes. Then she struggled to get down, and he let her go. She skidded across the kitchen floor, heading straight for the Bean’s plate of French toast.
    “Hold on!” said Charles. “That’s not puppy food!” He scrambled to get to the plate before Goldie did.
    Goldie sat back, looking disappointed. Then she caught another smell and took off in the other direction, tripping over herself in her eagerness to learn everything about this new place.
    Sammy burst back in with an armload of fuzzy, floppy toys. “I brought Mr. Man and Yellow Duckie,” he said. “Duckie used to be Rufus’s favorite.”
    The Bean held out his hands. “Toy!” he yelled.
    Sammy handed him Mr. Man, who was made out of a soft white material. Then he held out Duckie for Goldie. She took hold of one of the floppy yellow wings and started to shake the toy wildly, making the other wing bang against her head. Losing her balance, she plopped down on the floor and rolled over so her soft, pink belly showed.Her eyes were wild as she bit at the toy, grabbing for Duckie’s beak. Duckie suddenly let out a loud squeak. Goldie jumped up and stared at the toy for a second. Then she grabbed a wing and started shaking again.
    Everybody was laughing. Goldie was so funny! Charles thought he could watch her forever.
    “Oh, Mom,” said Lizzie. “We
have
to keep her.”
    “Please?” Charles begged.
    “If we keep her, it will only be for a little while,” Mrs. Peterson reminded them. “Just until we find her a good home. That’s how a foster family works.”
    “We’ll take good care of her,” Charles promised. “She won’t be any trouble!”
    Just then, Goldie rolled over, jumped to her feet, and took three steps to a spot under the kitchen table.
    She sniffed.
    She squatted.
    And she peed.

“It was only a little puddle,” Sammy said. “I don’t know why your mom got so upset.” He kicked a stone between the two big maple trees at the end of the Dodsons’ driveway. “Goal!”
    Charles, Lizzie, and Sammy were walking to school together, the way they always did. Charles and Sammy were both in Mr. Mason’s second-grade class. Lizzie was in fourth. It had not been easy to say good-bye to Goldie. Charles could still practically see her big eyes watching him curiously as he helped Lizzie clean up the puppy’s “mistake.”
    Would she still be there when he got home from school?
We have to convince Mom to let us be her foster family,
he thought. His fists were all balledup inside his jacket pockets. He almost felt like he might cry. He took a deep breath. “We have to make a plan,” he said. “First we convince Mom to let us foster Goldie. Then we convince her to let us keep her forever.”
    Lizzie grinned at him. “I’m with you,” she said.
    Sammy bumped fists with Charles. “Me, too.”
    Charles had a hard time paying attention in school that day. And it wasn’t because he was making up new knock-knock jokes. It was because he could not stop thinking about Goldie. What was she doing? Was she still feeling scared? Was Mom making sure that she had enough clean, fresh water? Was she making sure that the Bean was not bothering Goldie?
    Mr. Mason called on Charles three times during math, even though Charles did not raise his hand. Subtraction was not usually hard for Charles, but today it was.
    First Mr. Mason wanted to know how many cherries Anna would have left if she started withthirteen and gave Charles eight. “Seven?” Charles guessed. He knew it was wrong as soon as he said it.
    Mr. Mason just shook his head and moved on. Later, he tried Charles again. “What if I had eleven elephants,” he asked, “and I gave you three?”
    Charles pictured three huge