Fight for Life (8 page)

Except for the guy who mistreated Dinky. The poor pup was so weak, he couldn’t hang on any longer. And he had just found a good home. I’ve got to find a way to get to the farmer’s market.

Gran puts more bread in the toaster and bangs down the lever. “I’m sorry there isn’t more to choose from,” she says to Zoe. “I guess we’ve been a little busy.”

“You need to hire a cook,” Zoe says. “Or a housekeeper who will make dinner, at the very least.”

“A cook?” Gran asks.

“You should think about it. Everyone I know has one,” Zoe says as she plucks her lightly browned toast out of the toaster.

Gran opens the milk carton to pour some milk into her coffee. Three drops come out. “No cooks around here,” she says. “And nobody to do the shopping, either.”

Now’s my chance.
I swallow my cereal quickly. “Can we go to the farmer’s market?” I ask. “I bet Zoe’s never seen anything like it.”

“Good idea,” Gran answers. “Gabe has clinic duty, so I can take a few hours off.”

While Gran shows Zoe how to load the dishwasher—she’s never done that before—I sneak off to the clinic. I want to check in on the pups.

They’re all sleeping.

“Morning, everybody,” I whisper. One of the collies pricks up its ears and rustles a bit. Is there anything cuter than sleeping puppies?

“I’m off to find the creep who treated you so badly. Then we can rescue the other pups—maybe even your brothers and sisters.”

The market is crowded. There are hundreds of stalls selling a little bit of everything. Gran, Zoe, and I start down one long aisle, past a baker’s counter with fresh cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins, past an Amish farmer and his family selling giant jars of pickled beets, relish, and apple butter. My stomach rumbles.

“How about some hot chocolate?” Gran suggests. “It’s not good to shop on an empty stomach.”

“That sounds great,” Zoe says.

“Maggie?”

“No, thanks. You guys go ahead. I want to look around awhile.”

“Are you sure?” Gran asks. “You’ve never turned down hot chocolate before.”

“I’m sure. Go ahead. I’ll meet you at the van later.”

The two of them walk away without me. Zoe starts chattering a mile a minute, and Gran has a strange smile on her face. It almost seems as if she likes Zoe.

I shake my head. Get a grip. I have more important things to worry about—I’m on a mission.

I start moving down the aisles, asking the farmers if they know of a man who sold puppies at the market last week. It takes a few tries, but Mrs. Nestor, the lady who sells hand-crocheted doll clothes, remembers him.

“Can’t recall his name, Maggie.” She scratches her head with her crochet hook. “I seen him a few times, here and out in Sayerville. Bent over, scrawny man. Tried to sell me a puppy. I told him, ‘What do I need with another dog?’” She laughs and shakes her head. “Cute pups, but they were just as skinny as he was.”

This has to be the same guy. “Can you remember anything about him? What kind of car he drove, if he had anybody working with him, stuff like that?”

“Nope, nothing.” She pulls a ball of purple yarn out of the bag at her feet. “He lives on Lafayette Road. Did tell me that. Does that help you any?”

“That’s great! Oh my gosh, Mrs. Nestor, you’ve helped a lot! Thank you, thank you so much.” I’d like to give her a hug, but that is a very large crochet hook she’s holding.

“Think nothing of it. Glad I could help, Maggie. Give my best to your grandmother.”

“Thanks again,” I call as I jog down the aisle. I am going to get this guy. We’ll close him down. Just wait until I find Gran. She’ll be pumped, too. This puppy mill is history.

I find Gran and Zoe standing by the popcorn stand. As Gran pays for a bag of popcorn, Zoe says something and the popcorn vendor laughs. Gran puts her arm around Zoe’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Zoe tosses some popcorn at Gran.

That was dumb. No way Gran is going to stand for that.

But Gran laughs and shakes her head as she picks the popcorn out of her hair. If I had done that, I bet she’d lecture me. But she doesn’t lecture Zoe. Instead she steals a handful of popcorn out of Zoe’s bag and tries to shove it in her mouth. Zoe squeals and everybody laughs again. This is sickening.

They leave the popcorn vendor and walk straight toward me.

“Oh, there you are, Maggie,” Gran says.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

She doesn’t want to hear about the puppy mill owner. She’s having too much fun with Zoe. And I don’t really want to tell her, not in front of Zoe.

Gran studies my face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine,” I say, trying to smile. “I’m ready to go.”

G
ran planned out the rest of the weekend for me. I had to do “everything in my power” to help Zoe settle in. That meant clearing some of my stuff from the guest room. I have a lot of stuff. Old soccer uniforms, a dozen pairs of sneakers that don’t fit me but are too important to throw away, tests I never got around to showing Gran ... and that was just one layer of junk in the closet.

Once the guest room was sort of clean, Gran made me sit down to finish correcting my social studies test. I even had to fix my spelling mistakes. That took forever.

Now it’s Monday morning—back to school. Before Zoe and I leave for the bus stop, I say good-bye to Mitzy. Her owners are coming to pick her up today.

“Make sure Gran tells them that ‘Lie down!’ means ‘Come,’” I tell Mitzy. She licks my face, a very polite doggy good-bye. I’ll miss her mixed-up ways. Strange but true.

When I get on the bus, I find an empty seat so Zoe and I can sit together. But she takes a seat next to Caitlin Samboro. And by the time we get to Elizabeth Blackwell Elementary, Zoe and Caitlin are acting like best friends. And Gran told me to watch out for her today, this being her first day at a new school and all. Go figure.

My class has library on Monday. I usually hate it, but today I’m grateful for the quiet. It gives me a chance to think and plan. I find a table by the window and make a list of what I know about the puppy mill so far.

I chew on my eraser. I don’t know much. What should I do next? I doubt they have a book that lists people who don’t take good care of their pets. I suppose I could ask a librarian, but I hate asking for help—it makes me feel stupid.

I look around. Everyone is actually doing homework. I see Sunita sitting on the floor, her feet tucked neatly under her legs. Gran told me to think about asking the kids for help. Sunita is the smartest of them, no question. And she’s the sweetest. I bet she won’t make me feel stupid. Here goes.

I walk over and explain my problem.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Sunita says. “What are you going to do when you find this man?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

She closes her book and stands up. “There have been some laws about animal abuse passed recently. That’s where we should start. Come on.” She heads for the reference desk.

“Do we have to ask a librarian?”

“Yes. We’ll find what we need faster if Mr. Margate helps us.” She smiles at Mr. Margate and explains what she’s looking for. He pulls out a giant book from the shelf by his desk. “You want information about the puppy mill law,” he says. “It’ll be in here. This book contains all the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”

We carry the book to my table, and I open to the table of contents. The words look like millions of ants marching down the page. All I can do is stare.

“What’s wrong?” Sunita asks.

I look at her. I have to ask her to help me read. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to help shut down that puppy mill.

“Um, I, it’s just that, well... I don’t read so good. It takes me forever and then I forget what I just read.” I can feel sweat on my forehead, and my stomach is ready to bolt for the door. If she laughs at me I think I’ll die.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ll help.”

That’s it? That’s all she’s going to say? I wish Gran would take that attitude.

Sunita scans the table of contents, flips to the index, then dives in. It’s like watching a great author or something the way she reads so fast and scribbles notes.

“Voilà! The Dog Purchaser Protection Act, Section 9.3. OK. Here’s the deal. People who raise puppies for sale are required to provide them with a healthy environment.”

“Well, he didn’t do that.”

“They also have to be honest about any diseases the puppies might have.”

“He lied. Strike two.”

“They have to make sure the pups are given the proper vaccinations, and they aren’t allowed to treat them badly.”

“We’ve got him! This guy really is breaking the law. Excellent! What can we do to him?”

“A couple of years ago, it was totally legal to mistreat puppies. Now anyone who breaks this new law has to pay big fines. He could even be sent to jail.”

“That’s so great!”

“Shhh!” Mr. Margate hisses from across the room.

“That’s so great,” I whisper. “We can shut him down.”

“What do we do next?” Sunita asks. She’s just as excited as I am.

“Hang on. I better write this down so I don’t forget it. This is important.”

“You spelled some words wrong,” Sunita says.

“I don’t care. What mattters is that we can put this guy in jail!”

“Or at the very least, put him out of the dog breeding business,” says Sunita. “But we have to find him first. Guess where we have to look.”

“I know,” I say. “Back to the librarian’s desk.” Twice in one day. I wonder if I’m going to have an allergic reaction.

Mr. Margate takes back the law book and shows us where we can find a special phone directory that lists people by address. After Sunita corrects my spelling of the street name, we find the listings for Lafayette Road. They take up three pages. If I have to call everyone on this road, it will take forever.