Just Dance by Patricia MacLachlan

Author:Patricia MacLachlan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books

• 8 •

A Sweet Thing

Bud picked me up in the sheriff’s car, with Pal sitting proudly in the backseat.

I saw that the last F had been stuck back onto the door. It now read SHERIFF.

I pointed to it as I walked to the car.

“Pal dug it out from under my driver’s seat,” Bud said. “He also found my favorite slippers under the bed and chewed on them.”

I laughed. So did Bud.

“Pal loves you and your smell. You rescued him,” Bud said.

I reached in the back window and gave Pal a hug.

“Maybe I’ll grow up to be a sheriff,” I said.

Bud smiled at me. “You will grow up to be an observer of life and a great writer,” he said.

In the backseat there were two large bottles of water, a bowl, a bag of dog snacks, and a paper bag that I knew had doughnuts in it.

“Pal looks happy. How did Mrs. Ludolf like him as her birthday present?”

“Well, it was smart of me to buy her flowers and a bracelet as well,” he said. “Except that I caught her slipping Pal food under the table as we ate. Remind her of that whenever she lectures your class about sneaky behavior.”

“She has a soft heart,” I said.

Bud started the car. “All righty then,” he said briskly.

Pal made a noise and stuck his head between the two of us. When I turned my head, we were looking into each other’s eyes

Eyes again.

“Pal’s eyes are different. One eye is dark. One blue,” I told Bud.

“I saw that.”

“Bud?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something you should know.”

“What is that?”

I took a deep breath.

“The other day, before I found Pal in the car, I visited Tinker.”

“And?”

“His coyote, Bernie, is his family. He lives with him. And I sat very close to him. And I looked into his eyes.”

“I figured all that,” said Bud. “Yellow eyes, right?”

“Yes.”

“After your log I had three calls from teenagers asking about where they could find yellow-eyed girls.”

I laughed.

“I’m trying to protect Tinker’s privacy,” said Bud. “I figure townspeople would be curious. And Tinker’s a private person.”

“Yellow eyes with a marble in the center,” I said.

“I know.”

“Do you know everything about everyone in town?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you know I want a doughnut now?”

“Yes,” said Bud. “I know that.”

• • •

We drove down the dirt road between the meadows.

Bud looked out the window, and I knew he was looking for my mother.

“She’s singing to the chickens.”

“The Magic Flute?”

“Of course. They are addicted to The Magic Flute.”

“Addicted chickens? Really?” Bud said, pretending to be alarmed.

He stopped the car to listen to her voice coming across the meadow.

Pal went over to the open window and heard too.

Pal sniffed. Then he lifted his head and began to howl.

I burst out laughing.

Way off I saw my mother straighten up and stop singing. She looked around.

Bud drove off quickly. He had a shocked look on his face.

We slowed down at the Beans’ cornfield. There was a small chorus of singers today. The crows were still there.

Bud began to roll up Pal’s window with a button on his door, in case Pal howled again.

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