No More Dead Dogs Read Free Page A

“Well, thanks for—uh—having me—”
    “Oh, you’ll be seeing us all again,” announced Mr. Fogelman. “On Monday, right after school.”
    You could almost see the stubborn streak rise out of the creep’s spine, straighten his neck, and come forward to stiffen his jaw. “I’ve got football practice.”
    The teacher shook his head. “Not anymore. Not until you complete the work I assigned you.”
    “But, Mr. Fogelman,” Trudi piped up, “Wallace is really important to the Giants. You know, last year—”
    “I know all about last year.” The director cut her off. He looked at his watch. “We’ll meet back here on Monday. That includes you, Wallace.”
    “Hey, Rach!”
    I wheeled. My brother, Dylan, was running toward Trudi and me.
    “Careful!” I cried as he raced across Bedford Avenue without a glance to the left or right (part fearless; part stupid).
    He was short for a ten-year-old, so his enormous book bag very nearly dragged along the pavement as he panted up.
    “Didn’t anybody ever teach you to look both ways before you cross the street?” I snapped.
    “Not in middle school,” Dylan gasped, catching his breath. It was the biggest thrill in his life that the fifth graders had been moved out of Bedford’s three elementaries, so he could go to the same school as his older sister.
    “How’s it going, D-man?” Trudi grinned.
    “Never mind that!” Dylan exclaimed, as if he had no time for small talk. “The guy you just walked out of the gym with—wasn’t that Wallace Wallace?”
    “Yeah? So what?”
    “ The Wallace Wallace? The football player?”
    “No, one of the other ninety-five guys named Wallace Wallace in this town!” I said sarcastically. “What’s the big deal?”
    “Well, what did you say to him?”
    Trudi glared at me. “Tell him, Rachel. You got the poor guy in trouble with Mr. Fogelman.”
    “At least I didn’t kiss up to him like you did,” I snorted.
    Trudi shrugged. “He’s so cool.”
    “Warning sign number three,” I intoned.
    “I can’t believe you know him!” Dylan enthused. “He’s practically in the NFL!”
    “Know him?” Trudi repeated. “D-man, your sister and I—we’re hooked up. Actresses always hang with the ‘in’ crowd.”
    Actresses? I hope she wasn’t talking about herself.
    “Wow!” breathed Dylan. “Remember the big touchdown last year?”
    “Don’t you think it’s time we all found something else to think about?” I suggested. “For instance, do you know what the school play is going to be this semester?”
    But Dylan was already running down the sidewalk, backpack bouncing with each step. “Hey, Mark! Guess who my sister’s best friends with!”

Enter…
WALLACE WALLACE
    I applied the final brushstroke to the garage door. “See? What did I tell you? Fourteen minutes flat.” Eleven Giants were there helping me paint. The guys never let me down when it came to jobs around the house.
    “ Now can we practice the flea-flicker?” asked Rick, brushing at a paint stain on his jeans and making it worse.
    Cavanaugh jumped up. “Good idea.” He always showed up at my place out of team solidarity, but he never touched a paintbrush, or a hedge clipper, or a broom. My ex–best friend wasn’t crazy about me or the idea of helping me out.
    My mother rounded the corner of the garage. “Great job, boys,” she approved. “There’s juice and soda in the kitchen if you’re thirsty.”
    Feather led the stampede into the house, Cavanaugh bringing up the rear with his famous slouch. That slouch was almost as much a trademark as his super-long blond hair.
    “Come back!” cried Rick. “We don’t have time! The sun’ll be down in forty-five minutes!”
    I laughed. “Forget trying to control those guys where their stomachs are concerned.”
    Rick started for the door. “You hit the nail right on the hammer,” he muttered.
    Mom took the brush from my hand and smoothed out a bubble in the paint. “You know, I probably could