Teacher's Pet Read Free

barfing whenever someone says ‘middle school’?”
    Gran looks over the tops of her bifocals at me. “You know the MacKenzie motto, my girl: ‘No Fear.”’
    Easy for her to say. Gran was an awesome student. She got scholarships to college and vet school because of her high-powered brain. I must take after the other side of the family.
    Gran hugs Inky, and the dog gives her a slob bery kiss. “Don’t worry, Maggie. It won’t be as bad as you think.”

Chapter Three
    G ran was right. Middle school is not as bad as I thought it would be.
    It’s worse.
    My locker is two miles away from my classes, so I have to lug my books in a backpack all day. Each books feels like it weighs fifty pounds. I’m in real danger of tipping over backward.
    All of my teachers give us homework. I have to read a chapter in social studies, write an essay for English, do fifty math problems, and make a poster for health. I’m never going to get through it all, not even if I work all weekend. I wish I could go home right now and never come back. Maybe I’ll spend the afternoon begging Gran to let me go back to sixth grade.
    But not yet. I have to suffer through one more class: science.
    As soon as the bell rings, kids pour into the halls like streams flowing into a river. Since I’m shorter than everybody, I have to go with the flow, a small fish in the current of big bodies. I let the crowd carry me up the stairs and along the length of the building to the science wing.
    Here it is, Room 222. “Mr. Carlson,” it says in raised letters by the door.
    I take a deep breath and cut across the fast-moving lanes of human traffic. I keep my elbows out and my head down, like I’m driving the lane to the basketball hoop.
    Made it! I push open the door, and ...
    Wow!
    There’s a dog in here!
    Not just any dog. This is a German shepherd, purebred by the looks of him. He’s lying down next to the teacher’s desk, his front paws elegantly crossed over each other. He looks full-grown. His coat is tan with a big black patch that wraps around his back. His ears are dark, but his tail is a golden color. He’s wearing a funny harness around his chest with a square leather handle attached to the top of it. I’ve never seen one like that before.
    As I step into the room, the dog’s ears swivel. He looks me over quickly. His eyes are soft, brown, and intelligent. You know how some dogs look smarter than others? This guy looks like he could do all my homework tonight and still have time to play outside.
    Am I going to walk past this magnificent creature and sit at an empty desk?
    No way!
    I crouch down and hold out a hand in friendship. He sniffs me quickly, picking up the smells of pencils, books, cafeteria hot dogs (belch, belch) , and all the animals I take care of at home. He can probably smell my bad mood, too. He licks my hand once and smiles at me, his tail wagging happily.
    I scratch him between his ears. “You sure are beautiful! I say. ”What are you doing in a place like this?“
    â€œHe’s working,” responds a kind voice.
    I look up. Sitting behind the desk is a man. He’s wearing a blue-and-white-checked shirt and a tie with a map of the solar system on it. I’m not great at guessing the age of grown-ups, but he’s older than Dr. Gabe and a lot younger than Gran. He has blond hair, lighter than Zoe‘s, with a reddish beard and mustache.
    â€œPlease don’t bother Scout,” the man continues. “He needs to stay focused on his job.”
    â€œI was just petting him,” I say. “I wasn’t bothering him. He liked it.”
    The man smiles. “I understand. He loves the attention. But he’s working right now. What’s your name, please?”
    Am I in trouble already? Can’t be. I was just saying hello to this dog—to Scout. I lift my chin and look the man straight in the eye. “Maggie