twenty years of working at airports, Dad would know — I shrug my shoulders and sit down to eat. Ping and Pong look hopeful at my feet.
“What will we feed them?” I ask.
“I’m testing out my special dog stew.” He buzzes the food processor. “Leftover chicken from last night, mixed with carrots and oatmeal.” He sets down a couple of bowls on the floor.
They rush the bowls. Like I said, Dad’s a great cook, for dogs.
“Okay, so you’re off to school. I’m off to walk other dogs. These guys —”
“I can take them home and let them out at lunch.”
“You’ll need a note, then.” Dad grabs a sheet of Noble Dog Walking stationery and dashes off a permission note. “I’ve made it out for the whole week.”
“Great.” I grab it and stuff it in my backpack.
“Hurry and get dressed now. You’ll need to leave earlier to get these guys settled.”
The first mistake of the day turns out to be not asking Dad to drop off the dogs because I can’t hurry enough. By the time I struggle with them and their leashes and walk them to their house, not only do I feel bad for leaving them, I’m also ten minutes late for school, just enough to need a slip from the office.
As I head for the walkway at the front of the building, I’m surprised to see so many kids still outside. They seem to be heading in the other direction, laughing and chatting along the way like it’s the most normal thing. This feels like one of those nightmares where everyone knows something I don’t. “Hey, guys?” I want to call. But thinking of the fire alarm yesterday and how stupid I looked when I called out then, I stay quiet and try to figure it out myself. Why isn’t everyone settling down in their classrooms, waiting for announcements?
Then I spot the two police cars in the parking lot.
I try the front door and discover it’s locked. Something is terribly wrong.
day two, mistake two
“School’s closed for today. Go home.” The custodian, Mrs. Klein, walks up from behind me, coffee cup in hand.
“Why? It’s really nice out so we don’t even need the furnace today. Did the pipes burst?”
She shakes her head. “A car drove through the back doors.” Mrs. Klein sits down on the steps, sighs, and sips from her cup. “I found it when I came in this morning. Still running.”
“Was anybody hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No one was in the car and no one was in the building. Some bricks are damaged, the doors and frame are wrecked, plus a couple of banks of lockers.”
“Was it an accident?” I remember Mr. Ron telling me how he learned to drive. Late at night might be the best time to practise in a school parking lot.
She shakes her head again. “Oh, no, someone drove it into the doors on purpose. And the car ran for a long time. The halls are full of fumes.”
Something bothers me about this, something I can’t put my finger on. “So, when will school open? When the doors get repaired?”
“No, it won’t take that long. When the air clears. We’ve got huge fans in here blowing. Tomorrow we should be fine.”
I shrug my shoulders. “So everyone gets a holiday.”
“Not everyone,” she grumbles. “It’s convenient for Mrs. Watier, though. She’s going to have extra time to get ready for her rehearsal tea. And good for the rest of the teachers.” Mrs. Klein frowns. “But I’m cleaning up the broken bits of wall and locker in here.”
“You’re not invited to the tea?” I feel sorry for Mrs. Klein. It’s like she’s Cinderella.
“Well, I’m not part of the wedding party, so that makes sense. I wish they’d remembered to invite me to the special assembly, though. I had to ask them to let me sign the card.” Another sigh. “If you do your job right in this business, most people don’t think about you much.” She sips and swallows hard. “You have a good day, though, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”
A mom with a little kindergarten-sized kid at her side walks up now, and Mrs. Klein repeats the news.
I stand there for a moment, mouth hanging open, as I take in the details a second time, all the while remembering last night, the dogs growling, that car …
Mrs. Klein didn’t say it was a Volkswagen, but when I shake myself out of it, I cut to the back of the school to get to the path. The yellow crime tape screams out warning and danger to me. I feel a little sick but I have to see anyway. A tow truck starts up just as I pass, and sure enough, it drags out a squashed orange VW Beetle.
I take a deep breath.
Nothing to do about it now. First a bomb threat, then a car smashes into the school. Am I the only one who sees the link? Last night we definitely should have called the police.
At least this means I can go get Ping and Pong and give them a morning walk. Mr. Ron twirls his stop sign as I approach the crosswalk. He’s wearing his hat backwards today. Makes him look like a big kid.
“Betcha this is your dream come true, Stephen. A day off in the middle of the week. Yup, yup.” Mr. Ron grins, then whistles and holds his stop sign up.
“Kind of scary,” I tell him as he struts across the street ahead of me. “What if we’d been in the school when the car crashed?”
“Oh, don’t you think it was planned to happen after hours?” He tips his head.
“Smashing into a school…. Why would anyone plan that?”
“Maybe Mrs. Watier will get the new gym for your school now. Did you ever think of that?”
“No, I didn’t.” I step onto the sidewalk and he follows. “Thanks, Mr. Ron.”
“Yup, yup. Have fun on your day off.”
“Sure.” I head straight for the Bennetts’ house. I must have left the dogs not twenty minutes ago, and yet, they act as though they haven’t seen me in a month. Ping leaps over Pong to get to me. Pong slaps him away with his tail and jumps on my legs for a pat. Ping yelps and springs straight into the air to plant a lick on my lips. Yuck!
Still, they make me forget everything. I sit down with them on the floor, accepting their happiness and patting them everywhere I can reach. Then I snap their leashes on.
I don’t feel like leading them past the school. A different walk is not only good for their minds, it’s also good for avoiding explosions and car smashes at schools. I head for the other path into the park, the one that leads us right by the community centre. A few skateboarders are fooling around in the concrete pit right next to it. I watch them until I hear some pounding on the library window.
I look toward it and see Renée. She’s wearing her hair in pigtails with sparkling clips today; they sort of look like Ping’s ears up at attention.
