Dog Days by David Lubar

Author:David Lubar [LUBAR, DAVID]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780761382751
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

CHAPTER 5

SCRAP THAT PLAN

“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.

“That,” Larry said. He pointed to the piece of cardboard taped to the fence beside the gate.

Paul stared at the sign. “I can’t read. What does it say?”

“It’s the price he’s paying for paper and aluminum,” Larry told him. “It went down. I won’t get as much as I thought.”

“Maybe it’s a mistake,” Paul said.

“No such luck,” Larry answered, shaking his head. He’d learned that lesson at the market—prices changed. But why did they always have to change in the worst possible way? Why couldn’t the price of dog food go down and the price of scrap metal go up? He guessed it was for the same reason that dogs wandered the streets and people got sick—life wasn’t always fair.

“Well, it’s not good, but it’s better than nothing,” Larry said, sighing. He pulled his wagon along the gravel path that led to the scales.

Fang, the dog who guarded the scrap yard, snarled and rushed out from the shed where he lived. But as soon as he recognized Larry, he wagged his tail. Two years ago, Larry had found the dog huddled and shivering in the rain by the bowling alley. It was barely more than a puppy back then. He’d brought it home, cared for it, and named it Lucky. Mr. Penwood, who owned the scrap yard, wanted a dog. He’d given Lucky a new home and a new name. “Scrap yard dogs need tough names,” he’d explained. “Now he’s Fang.”

Paul moved behind the wagon, putting it between himself and Fang.

“Hi, boy,” Larry said, petting the dog. “Mister Penwood, I’m here at the scale,” he shouted.

“Be right with you,” a voice called from the other side of a pile of tires. “Go ahead and load it up.”

Larry stacked the newspapers on the scale.

“Let’s see what you have,” Mr. Penwood said as he walked up to the scale. He slid the weights at the top, squinted at the numbers, then took the papers off the scale and weighed the cans.

“Okay, eight plus seven is fifteen, carry the one . . .” He mumbled a bit more, scrunched his brows as if thinking, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “Sorry about this,” he said as he counted out the money, “but there’s so much scrap that the prices had to go down. Everybody’s recycling. Especially now with the new town law. Supply and demand. That’s life, I guess.”

“Thanks.” Larry took the money. This isn’t going to help very much, he thought. He knew he had to find some way to earn more. There wasn’t anything else he could do that evening. But tomorrow he’d search all over town. Surely someone would have some kind of work for a kid. He was willing to do anything—the dogs couldn’t go without food. If he wasn’t able to feed them, he’d have to take them to the dog pound. He didn’t even want to think about that.

“Here, this is for helping.” Larry gave his brother a dime.

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