Christmas On Nutcracker Court (4 page)

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Authors: Judy Duarte

BOOK: Christmas On Nutcracker Court
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Just as she was drying the saucepan she'd used to make oatmeal, her cell phone rang.
Hopefully, it was a client needing an appointment. She always tried to accommodate their schedules whenever possible, so she flipped open her cell and said, “Hello, this is Carly.”
“I'm sorry to call you so early, but I have a two o'clock appointment for highlights, and I'm going to need to reschedule.”
Carly's heart dropped. It was Lynette Tidball. And that left her with only two appointments this afternoon—and less tip money. So the spaghetti would have to wait for another day.
Still, she masked her disappointment the best she could. “Sure. When would you like to come in?”
“What do you have open for tomorrow or the next day?”
At least Lynette hadn't cancelled altogether. Carly blew out a little sigh and scanned her appointment book. “I can do it at ten o'clock tomorrow. Or one thirty on Wednesday.”
“I'm not an early bird,” Lynette said. “So Wednesday would work best for me.”
“You've got it.” Carly tried to sound upbeat, but she was getting so tired of taking one step forward only to slip and end up two steps behind.
“Thanks,” Lynette said. “You're the best.”
Carly certainly tried to be, but these days she felt second-rate.
 
 
Josh stood next to Mikey on the corner of Canyon and Park, wishing he could have ridden his bike to school and left Mikey here to wait with the other little kids.
Everyone else at this bus stop was in third grade or younger, so Josh was the oldest one here.
There were even a couple of moms who hung out with their kindergartners, so his little brother would be safe without him.
Too bad he couldn't just leave him. If Josh didn't have to look after Mikey, he could meet up with Tommy and Greg at the gas station and mini-mart near the school. Not that he had any money to buy junk, like his friends did, but it was cool to be with guys his own age.
Now he stood at the back of the line, waiting for Mr. Crenshaw, the bus driver, to show up.
“Oh, no.” Mikey nudged Josh's arm and pointed down the street, where a big, wooly dog trudged up the side of the canyon and stepped onto the sidewalk.
It wasn't just any big, wooly dog, though. It was the one that belonged to the mean guy who lived on Nutcracker Court.
When the animal spotted them, it trotted down the sidewalk until it reached the bus stop. Then it plopped down on its haunches and started panting, its long pink tongue dangling out of its mouth.
The goofy mutt almost looked as though he was smiling and glad to have found a couple of friends.
“He must have gotten out again,” Mikey said.
“Yeah, but he's wearing a collar this time.” A blue one with a couple of metal tags hanging on it. Josh reached for them. One was a license. The other one was in the shape of a dog bone. It said his name was Hemingway and that he lived at 3186 Nutcracker Court.
Josh gave the dog's furry head and ears a scratch. “Who let you out
this
time, boy?”
Not that he expected an answer, but the dog's owner was really fussy about him staying in the yard, and Josh hoped that he and Mikey didn't get blamed again.
They probably would, though. So he slipped his hand under the collar and got a good hold of it.
“You get on the bus with everyone else and go to school,” he told his brother. “I'm going to take the dog home.”
“Don't do that, Josh. You'll get in big trouble.”
The way Josh saw it, he was going to get in trouble either way. “I'll be okay. Don't worry.”
“But you're going to miss the bus.”
“If that happens, I'll just walk to school.”
“But
Josh
—”
“I'll be fine.” Josh tossed his brother a brave smile. “I'll see you on the playground after lunch.”
Rather than taking another look at Mikey's face and risk seeing the worry splashed across it, Josh turned and led the dog to the path that cut through the canyon.
His plan was to put him back into his fenced yard without anyone being the wiser, then to walk down Nutcracker Court to Parkside Drive. The school was only a couple of blocks away from there.
Okay, so maybe Josh should have let the dumb mutt roam all over Fairbrook. What did he care?
Besides, if he got picked up by the dog catcher and hauled to the pound, he had a license. So they'd know who owned him and where he lived.
Of course, by taking him home, Josh would also get to walk to school on his own today. And who knew? Maybe his friends would still be at the mini-mart.
“So you're Hemingway,” he said, thinking it was a pretty dumb name for a dog. If the choice had been his, he would have called him something cool like Wolf or maybe even Yeti.
Still, he figured it would be a good idea to talk to the animal as if they were friends. It might make it a little easier to put him back in his yard.
Five minutes later, he and Hemingway were trudging up the slope to Nutcracker Court.
Josh's legs felt the strain of the uphill climb, and the dog half-pulled him to the grass on the other side. Then, as if knowing exactly where they were going, Hemingway headed toward the house where he lived.
This was the tricky part. Josh was going to have to open the gate and let the dog into the backyard without making any noise. He figured that wouldn't be a problem unless Hemingway gave him trouble.
Moments later, he stood before the gate—which was
closed
.
So how did the dog get out? Had he dug a hole under the fence?
If so, he was going to keep escaping until his owner found the hole and fixed it.
With one hand gripped tightly to the dog's collar, Josh stood on tiptoe and undid the latch with the other. Then he opened the gate and let the dog back in his yard.
Fortunately, the wooly beast obeyed.
Hey, Josh realized.
Beast
would have been another good name for him.
As Josh headed for the sidewalk, he brushed his hands on the denim fabric of his jeans. He was eager to put this chore behind him, but as he left the dog's front yard, he glanced at the mailbox in front of the yard.
TOLLIVER
was written on the side with faded black letters.
Was that the man's name? Or was it just left over from the last people who used to live there?
Oh, well. It didn't matter to Josh. He didn't plan on running into that guy ever again.
But as he stepped onto the sidewalk and turned toward Parkside Drive, he ran into someone who just might be a whole lot worse: Ross “the Boss” Shurlock, the meanest kid at Parkside Elementary.
Ross was bigger than most of the teachers, at least the women. And he weighed about two hundred pounds. At least, it felt that way when he sat on top of Josh on the playground during the third week of school.
All Josh had done was to stick up for Mikey when Ross had called him four eyes, but apparently, Ross didn't like other kids telling him to back off.
Ross had ended up getting detention that day. And he'd blamed Josh for ratting him out, but he hadn't. Mikey had told Mrs. Hornkohl, who'd then told the principal.
Some of the kids at school said Ross was a teenager already, which might be true. They also said that he was still in the sixth grade because he had to repeat kindergarten a couple of times.
Ross had to go to special classes for reading, too. One girl thought that was really sad, but Josh figured that a kid didn't need to be able to read if he was big and strong and good at kicking butts.
“Hey, Westbrook.” Ross pushed his chest out like he was all big and tough. “What are you doing in my neighborhood?”
Josh hadn't known where Ross lived. And if he'd thought that his house was on Nutcracker Court, he would have had
two
big reasons to stay off this street.
“I'm not doing anything,” Josh said. “Just taking a shortcut to school.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ross, who had pimples on his face and even some black hairs growing on his chin, put his hands on his hips. “Says who?”
“The bell's going to ring pretty soon.” Josh figured a reminder that there wasn't much time for a butt kicking would be a good idea.
But Ross didn't look like he cared about being tardy.
“I charge a toll to any kids who want to walk on this side of the canyon,” he said. “But since we don't have a whole lot of time to make a deal on the price, why don't you just tell me how much you have on you.”
Josh ran his hands along his empty pockets. “I don't have any money.”
“That's too bad.” Ross grabbed Josh by the shirt and gave it a hard twist until the fabric ripped.
Josh hoped his mom would think it was an old shirt. But getting in trouble with her tonight was the least of his problems right now.
Still, even though he was scared spitless, he tried to act like he wasn't. “Hey, Ross. Let loose.”
“Not until you pay me. Empty your pockets.”
If Josh had any money, he would gladly give it to the jerk just to be rid of him and on his way to school. But he didn't have any cash. So he reached into his pockets and turned them inside out. “See? You're out of luck today.”
“No,” Ross said, giving Josh a shove that knocked him to the concrete. “
You
are.”
Then he kicked him, right in the face.
Josh grimaced in pain, but he didn't cry, even though his lip hurt like heck. His eyes got all teary, but he refused to yell for help.
As it turned out, he didn't have to.
Hemingway started barking like he wanted to break down the fence and eat up the bully who was messing with his new best friend. And moments later, the front door of his house swung open, and the grumpy man stepped out on the porch, looking just as mad and mean as ever.
Great
. Now Josh was in double trouble. If he had a time machine, he'd wind it back to about ten minutes ago, and then he would have stayed with Mikey.
“Hey!” the man yelled. “Back off and get away from him!”
Ross took off running, leaving Josh to face the man alone.
He was really dead meat now, but he got to his feet and crossed his arms. He wanted to be brave, but his heart was pounding as though there were a hyperactive drummer and a rock band in his chest.
“What's going on here?” the man asked, his voice all mean and snarly.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. What were you two boys fighting about?”
Like Josh would tell
him
.
Even if the guy was a policeman or someone with any real authority, he still wouldn't tell. Ross might have run away just now, but that didn't mean he wouldn't still want to finish what he'd started later today or this week or this year.
So Josh gave a little shrug. “It was no big deal.”
“So why did your friend rough you up?” Mr. Tolliver asked.
“He's not my
friend
.”
Tolliver's eye twitched, but he continued to stare at Josh like a teacher who'd caught a guy cheating on a spelling test.
Finally, Tolliver crossed his own arms over his chest. “What are you doing on my street?”
“I returned your dog. He got out of your yard again. There must be a hole in your fence somewhere because the gate was closed. But I had nothing to do with it. I was just standing at the bus stop on Canyon when he came running up to me.”
“I've already checked my backyard for holes, and the fence is secure. So how do you suppose he would have gotten out?”
Josh shrugged. “I don't know, mister. Maybe you just got a smart dog.”
Tolliver scrunched his face, as though he found that hard to believe, then he looked at Josh. “Your lip is bleeding. I've got tissues inside.”
No way was Josh going into that guy's house—if that's what he had in mind.
“I'm okay.” And to prove it, Josh lifted the torn neckline of his shirt and wiped his mouth. But dang, it hurt like heck when he did.
Tolliver, who was wearing sweatpants and no shirt, made his way toward Josh.
Uh-oh. Josh wondered what would happen if he just turned and walked away. It sure seemed like the best thing to do right now.
“Why was that kid giving you a hard time?” the guy asked.
Josh chuffed. “He gives
everyone
a hard time. He's a jerk.”

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