“I don’t understand why you’re taking this so hard,” Bruce said. “You ought to be proud of yourself. Second place is great.”
“But it’s not good enough!” Andi said. “I worked all summer writing Bobby Strikes Back, and Jerry probably whipped his book out in two weeks while he was grounded. How could he do that and make it better than my book? I wrote mine over and over, trying to make it perfect. I was thinking that you could take pictures for illustrations. There are so many dogs in our neighborhood, you’d have plenty of models, and your name would be on the book jacket right under mine.”
“That would have been cool,” Bruce admitted, touched by her thoughtfulness.
“And then there’s Aunt Alice,” Andi said. “This was going to be for her!”
“What does Aunt Alice have to do with this?” Bruce asked in bewilderment.
“I based my hero, Bobby the Basset, on Aunt Alice,” Andi told him. “In my story, Bobby proved that old dogs can be smarter and braver than young dogs and that young dogs should listen to them and take them seriously. Bobby saved the dognapped victims in my story, like Aunt Alice helped save the real dognapped victims last summer. I was going to dedicate Bobby Strikes Back to her. Now all I’ll have to show her is a dumb certificate that probably doesn’t even have my name right. The editor addressed her letter to ‘Amanda Wallace.’”
“Where is the letter?” Bruce asked.
“On my desk,” Andi said. “Tomorrow I’m going to tear it up and flush it down the toilet.”
“I’m going to turn the light back on,” Bruce said, “and you’re going to clean up that mess. I might forget that it’s there, and I don’t want to step in it.”
“I was waiting until Bebe fell asleep to do that,” Andi said. “I didn’t want to embarrass her.”
“Dachshunds are nearsighted,” Bruce said. “If she’s on your bed, she won’t see what you’re doing even if she’s still awake.”
He turned on the light and averted his eyes from the frothy pink puddle on the floor as Andi went into the closet and got the towel that Bebe always sat on when she was in hiding. As Bruce had suspected, Bebe was in Andi’s bed, a sausage-shaped lump beneath the blanket. The only part of her sticking out was her nose.
While Andi took care of the cleanup, Bruce went over to her desk and picked up the letter.
Dear Ms. Amanda Wallace,
We are pleased to inform you that your delightful manuscript, Bobby Strikes Back, has placed second in our Young Author Dog Lovers Contest. Your certificate of merit will be mailed to you in a separate envelope along with your manuscript, which you are now free to enter in other competitions. Next spring we will send you a complimentary copy of the book Ruffy Dean Joins the Circus by first-place winner Jerry Gordon, who, coincidentally, also happens to live in Elmwood.
We hope you will consider entering next year’s contest, which will be for Young Author Cat Lovers.
Sincerely,
Jo Ann Bayse, Senior Editor
Pet Lovers Press
“You’ll have other chances to get your book published,” Bruce said. “It says right here you can enter it in other contests.”
“There aren’t any other contests like this one,” Andi said. Her voice was quivering, and Bruce was afraid she was going to cry again.
He said, “Look, Andi, this isn’t the end of the world. Think of all the kids who entered and didn’t place at all. Most of them aren’t even going to get certificates.”
“But think of the one who will get his book published!” Andi wailed. “I wouldn’t feel nearly as bad having somebody else win if that person felt the way we do about dogs. But after all the horrible things Jerry’s done to Red Rover, he shouldn’t have been allowed to enter! Even if he’s a good writer, and I guess he must be or he wouldn’t have won, he doesn’t deserve to be known all over the world as a boy who loves dogs!”
Bruce couldn’t help agreeing with her. Red Rover had permanent scars on his neck from the rope Jerry had used to harness him to a wagon. Bruce was also furious that the only punishment Jerry had received for the misery he had caused many people the past summer was being grounded for two weeks. Staying in his basement bedroom with its big-screen TV and pool table and computer and huge collection of DVDs could hardly be considered a major punishment.
Bruce tried to think of something to say to make Andi feel better.
“Maybe the publishing house will burn down,” he suggested. “Then they won’t be able to publish Jerry’s book.”
But a thought that was more realistic occurred to him.
When they didn’t know what to do next, there was always Aunt Alice.
Perhaps she could think of a way to get Andi’s book published.
CHAPTER THREE
LOCAL PRODIGY WINS NATIONAL WRITING AWARD
Jerry Gordon, 14, has received a very big piece of good news. Jerry’s novel, Ruffy Dean Joins the Circus, was awarded first prize in the Young Author Dog Lovers Contest, sponsored by Pet Lovers Press, for a book about dogs written by an author under the age of 16.
Jerry’s book will be published in the spring of next year.
“I learned about the contest from a flier in the library,” Jerry said. “I spent a lot of time in the library last summer. I love dogs, and I’ve always dreamed of being a writer, so I knew right away that this was the contest for me.”
Jerry said his story is about a mischievous dog named Ruffy who performs in a traveling circus.
“Ruffy has lots of adventures and ends up in a happy home,” Jerry said.
Amanda Wallace, 11, also of Elmwood, placed second in the contest.
Beneath the article was a picture of Jerry holding his congratulatory letter from Pet Lovers Press. His shiny blond hair formed a halo around his face. He looked adorable.
“They got Andi’s name wrong!” Mr. Walker exclaimed indignantly as the paper was passed from hand to hand at the breakfast table. “I’m going to call the editor and demand a correction.”
“Please don’t bother,” Andi said. “It doesn’t matter.”
Her voice was flat and unemotional. Bruce thought she sounded like a talking robot. He’d felt more comfortable with her the night before when she was raging and weeping. At least then she’d seemed human.
“But you deserve recognition,” Mr. Walker protested. “Your picture should be in the paper right along with Jerry’s.”
“It’s all right, really,” Andi said. “I’d hate to be photographed with Jerry. People might think we were friends. May I be excused? I’ve got homework to do.”
“But it’s Saturday morning!” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “You have the whole weekend to do homework. Aren’t you and Debbie going to take your dogs to the park?”
Andi and her best friend, Debbie Austin, always took Andi’s dog, Bebe, and Debbie’s dog, Lola, to the Doggie Park on Saturday mornings so they could play with other dogs. Back when Debbie had written a gossip column for The Bow-Wow News, she had gotten her most interesting material by eavesdropping on the conversations of dog owners, who sat on benches and chatted while their dogs were romping.
“Bebe doesn’t feel well this morning,” Andi said. “She seems to have an upset stomach.”
She got up from the table and went upstairs to her room. Even from the kitchen, the family could hear her door slam.
“I’m worried about Andi,” Mrs. Walker said. “Something doesn’t seem right. Maybe I ought to take her to the doctor for a checkup.”
“She’ll snap out of it,” Bruce told his mother reassuringly. But he wasn’t sure he believed that. Andi seemed to have morphed into a total stranger. He felt as if he were watching his vibrant sister transform herself, right before his eyes, into a paper doll that had been left out in the rain.
It was Bruce’s habit to take Red running on weekend mornings, so his parents didn’t question him about where he was going when he left the breakfast table and went out into the backyard. But when Red came bounding to greet him, he a
pologetically told the excited dog, “I’m sorry, old boy. We’ll have to run later. First I have business to take care of.”
Bruce spent a few minutes stroking Red’s silky head and scratching behind his floppy ears, and then, to Red’s huge disappointment, Bruce left him behind and headed for his great-aunt’s house at the end of the block. He couldn’t take Red with him to visit Aunt Alice because she was terribly allergic to dogs.
Jerry Gordon was in his driveway, oiling the wheels of his skateboard. Bruce had to walk right past him.
“Hey, shrimp!” Jerry called out.
“Hey yourself,” Bruce said, trying not to show how much he hated that nickname. His parents kept predicting that he would soon have a growth spurt, but they had been promising that for years and it still hadn’t happened.
“Did you see the morning paper?” Jerry asked with a smirk.
“I looked at the sports page,” Bruce said. “That was all that was worth reading.”
“Then you missed the big news,” Jerry told him. “I made front-page headlines! I’ve written a book and it’s going to be published! I’m already getting phone calls from TV producers who saw my picture in the paper and want me to be on talk shows.”
“I just bet!” Bruce said sarcastically, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might be true. Jerry probably could do a great interview with someone like Oprah. Any boy who was glib enough to talk the police out of arresting him on dognapping charges could charm his way into the hearts of television viewers.
Quickening his pace, Bruce continued past the Gordons’ house and turned up the neatly paved walkway to the house next door. He rang the bell and waited patiently for Aunt Alice to respond. His father’s elderly aunt was not an early riser, and her joints could be stiff in the mornings, which meant it might take her a while to get to the door. But she always got there eventually and did so now, peering through the peephole to identify her visitor. Aunt Alice did not open her door to people who sold magazine subscriptions.
She hadn’t yet dressed for the day and was still in her pink flowered housecoat, but her face lit up with pleasure when she saw who her caller was.
“My gracious, it’s chilly!” she exclaimed as the brisk morning air swept in through the open doorway. “Hurry, dear, and come in! Spring apparently hasn’t sprung yet, though my hyacinths don’t know the difference. The purple ones are already popping their heads up. I suppose you’re here to discuss that article in the paper?”
“So you’ve already seen it?” Bruce asked.
“How could I have missed it when my next-door neighbors’ son is all over the front page?” Aunt Alice led the way into her immaculate white-carpeted living room, where no cushion was ever out of place on the lemon yellow sofa. Bruce was suddenly aware that he was wearing the same jeans he’d worn for most of the past week. He decided that it might be best if he didn’t sit down.
The morning paper was spread across Aunt Alice’s coffee table, and Jerry smiled sweetly up at them from the center of a round wet circle where Aunt Alice had set her coffee cup on his face.
“How is Andi reacting to this?” she asked Bruce. “I haven’t read Bobby Strikes Back, but she’s told me about it. A lot of her heart went into writing that story.”
“She’s putting on a good act,” Bruce said. “But that’s all it is — an act. Mom and Dad are buying it, but I know she’s faking. Last night she was crying in her bedroom and looked just awful. She expected to win that contest. She was totally sure.”
“She must be devastated,” Aunt Alice said sympathetically. “Not because she came in second — although losing to Jerry must have been a bitter pill to swallow — but because she was living for a dream and now she doesn’t have one. People as driven as Andi can’t function without a dream. They have to have something to strive for or they lose their energy.”
“Is that normal?” Bruce asked. He planned to be a photojournalist, but that was a goal for the future. For now, he was happy just to have fun taking pictures and running with his dog and hanging out with Tim and his other friends. It had never occurred to him to submit his photographs to magazines, which Andi had been doing with her poetry since she was ten.
“It’s not normal for everyone, but it’s normal for Andi,” Aunt Alice said. “Andi isn’t your average young girl. That makes her life more interesting but also more difficult. Do the rules allow her to enter her manuscript in other contests?”
“The publisher said she could,” Bruce answered. “But there aren’t many contests for kids who write books about dogs.”
“There don’t have to be many,” Aunt Alice said. “There just needs to be one. Since Andi is too dejected right now to pursue this on her own, it’s up to the people who love her to do that for her. Let’s go online and see what we can come up with.”
She led the way up the stairs and down the hall to her home office, which once had been a sewing room but now was devoted to legal and investigative materials. When Aunt Alice’s husband, Peter, had been alive, the two of them had run a detective agency. That had been a long time ago, and in the years since her husband’s death, Aunt Alice had devoted herself to charitable causes and gardening. However, she had recently purchased a computer and become intrigued by the new technology she’d read about on the Internet. She had been ordering books about forensics and DNA evidence and new methods for running background checks on suspicious people. She had even started talking about renewing her private detective’s license.
Now she switched on her computer, pulled up her favorite search engine, and typed in the words “Dogs + writing + contest.” To Bruce’s surprise, a page popped up with links to a variety of Web sites, but none of the contests seemed right for Andi’s novel. Almost all were sponsored by dog food companies that wanted jingles to use in their commercials. The prizes were cans of dog food.
Aunt Alice went back to the search engine and substituted the word “story” for the word “writing.” This time, when she hit ENTER, the list was shorter, and there still didn’t seem to be any contests for books.
“Andi was right,” Bruce said. “Pet Lovers Press was a onetime chance for her. They’re the only publisher looking for books by kids who write about animals, and it seems as if they’re going to keep switching subjects. Their next contest is going to be about cats, and then they’ll probably do hamsters and horses and goldfish. By the time they get back to dogs again, Andi will be too old to enter.”
“We mustn’t give up hope,” Aunt Alice said, scrolling down the page. “Here’s one that looks interesting. It isn’t specifically for children, but it doesn’t exclude them either. Your parents gave you a video camera for Christmas. I assume you’ve been learning to use it. Have you mastered your craft yet?”
“I’m pretty good,” Bruce told her. “I’m taking a video class as my eighth-grade elective and learning about editing and sound tracks and stuff like that.”
He leaned in closer so he could read over her shoulder.
STAR BURST STUDIOS’ DOGS IN ACTION VIDEO CONTEST! Every dog has a story, and your pup pal is no exception. You may be the owner of the next canine superstar! Send us a fifteen-minute video based on the most dramatic event in the life of your family pooch, and maybe your talented tail-wagger will make it to Hollywood! The three top videos will be aired on national television, and the winner will be decided by votes from our viewers. The dog who stars in the winning video will be offered the opportunity to appear in commercials and movies produced by professional filmmakers. Entry must be accompanied by a signed consent form for each person who appears and/or is heard in the video submission. Only one entry per person or group will be accepted, and all entries must be received by April 30. The finalists will be announced on May 14.
“I’ll print a copy of the entry form,” Aunt Alice said. “You’ll have to work fast to meet this deadline, but this sounds to me like a Bobby Strikes Back type of contest. Even though Andi changed some of the names and details, her story is based on a true
event in Red Rover’s life.”
“But it’s a contest for a video, not for a book,” Bruce said doubtfully.
“Then Andi must turn her story into a screenplay,” said Aunt Alice.
CHAPTER FOUR
“A video is not better than a book!” Andi protested. “Nothing is better than a book! You can hold a book in your hands and smell the pages and read it in the bathtub!”
“Is that why you hog the bathroom for hours?” Bruce asked her. “How do you soap yourself if you’re busy sniffing pages?” He had expected Andi to be thrilled with this new proposal, and here she was, griping about it before they’d even discussed it. “It’s the story that matters, isn’t it? You want people to know about Bobby, and this way they won’t just read about him, they’ll see him. And dogs will see him. Dogs can’t read, but they can watch DVDs. You know how much Bully Bernstein enjoys movies.”
Andi nodded, brightening a little. She would never forget her first glimpse of that overweight bulldog sprawled on the sofa in the Bernsteins’ living room, watching Lady and the Tramp. Bully had been the subject of the lead story in the first edition of The Bow-Wow News.
“I guess you’re right,” she said. “Dogs probably would like a video. But how will we film it and where will we get the actors?”
“My video camera will be perfect for this,” Bruce said. “I can do the editing in the photo lab at school. Tell me the plot of your book. How large a cast will we need?”
“Well, there’s Bobby, the old basset hound,” Andi began. “He’s in love with Juliet, the poodle who lives next door. Bobby can’t visit her, because her cruel owner, Mr. Rinkle, has put up a big iron wall between the houses. One day Bobby gets out of his yard and runs down the alley and tries to get into Juliet’s yard. Mr. Rinkle catches him and throws him in his toolshed. Then Mr. Rinkle decides he enjoys dognapping, and he dognaps all the dogs in the neighborhood and stuffs them in with Bobby.”