My Boyfriends' Dogs (27 page)

“You have nothing to worry about,” Jeannette assured me. “In fact, I'd bet good money that you'll be prom king and queen.”

“Get out.” I'd been so focused on getting invited to my senior prom that I hadn't thought about prom court. But Jeannette had a point. Eric Strang was the most popular guy in school. Why wouldn't he be nominated for prom king? But me? No way. Our school elected couples. How could I not have thought of that? Who would vote for Queen Bailey?

No wonder Eric hadn't invited me to the prom.

Christmas Eve day I woke up to blaring Christmas music and Mom singing off-key from the kitchen. She was actually baking Christmas cookies (well, putting the premade, presliced circles of dough onto cookie sheets). “Merry Christmas Eve!” she shouted when I shuffled in. “Do you really have to go to Eric's today? ”

“We're exchanging gifts.” I'd been a little hurt that Eric and I weren't going to see each other on Christmas. Grandmother Strang was coming, and it was “just family.”

“Don't forget to take him my gift, okay?” Mom had picked up a handful of books for Eric at a garage sale. “And good luck on finding the right dog this time.”

 

I drove to Eric's so we could pick out his dog at Freemont's animal shelter and he wouldn't have to bring home his new dog in his new car. A light snow fell, but the roads were good. I sang along with radio Christmas music and tried to hold on to the Christmas spirit. Going to Eric's house always felt like the first day of school, when I knew I'd picked the wrong outfit and hairstyle.

The Strang mansion was outlined in white Christmas lights, everything tasteful and symmetrical and lovely. There wasn't a white light in the mix Mom had wound around our little house. This house didn't have a single icicle dangling from its roof. Our house had so many icicles that somebody could have mistaken it for a gingerbread house. But I knew we only had icicles because of poor insulation.

I checked the visor mirror before going in. I'd fixed my hair up again, French-braiding it, then tucking the end under and pinning. Eric's mother had complimented my hair twice when I'd worn it like this to work at the club. Both times it had given me a headache, but anything for beauty, right?

Slipping Mom's gift bag of books over one arm, I eased Roni's gift out of the backseat. I'd bought her two newts and everything they needed to live, which wasn't much. Eric had tried to talk me out of it, but I was pretty sure Roni would be psyched.

I was trying to figure out how to knock when the front door swung open and Eric rushed out. “Hey, you!” He took the packages and swept me inside. “Did the snow give you any trouble? I could have picked you up, you know.”

I loved the way Eric looked out for me. “No problem. But we need to get going to the animal—”

Eric's mother glided up and gave me a stiff hug. “Merry Christmas, Bailey. Eric, where are your manners. Take your friend's coat.”

His
friend
?

Eric took my coat, even though I tried to give him the signal that I wanted to go to the animal shelter
now
. “I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“I do like surprises. Let me guess. Uh . . . I give up.”

“Wait right here.”

“I'm closing my eyes,” I shouted as he left me in the foyer. I opened my eyes when I heard him come back. Eric was holding a little brown-and-white dog, its long hair tied up on top of its head with a red bow. It was some kind of exotic breed I couldn't remember the name of. “What a cute dog. Whose is it? ”

“Mine, of course.” Eric handed me the little dog. “Mother picked her out. You don't mind, do you? She can still be from you. I guarantee the only reason my mother bought this dog was because I told her we were picking one up from the shelter.”

The poor dog shook in my arms, trembling even more when I tried to pet her.

Eric's mother stood a few feet away as if afraid of catching something. “
I
didn't select the dog. I have a friend—well, an acquaintance—from the club. She shows dogs and wins trophies and such. I asked her to select a small dog with good breeding.”

“It's a Shih Tzu,” Eric explained. “They don't shed. And the breeder promised that hers rarely bark—
never
if properly cared for.”

I couldn't imagine a dog that didn't bark. I cupped the little dog in my arms and tried to calm her, but her eyes flitted from one of us to the other. “What's her name? ”

“I have to check her papers,” Eric said. “I think it's Balthazar's Imperial Belle.”

“Not anymore it isn't.” I stroked the little dog, trying to find a spot she liked. Finally, she turned to me when I gently scratched her stomach. Her big brown eyes begged for a friend. I felt bad about one more shelter dog not getting a home, but how could I not fall in love with this ball of fluff? “You're
my
gift to my boyfriend,” I murmured. “
Surely
I can come up with a better name than the one you've got.”

“What did you call her? ” Eric asked.

“I just said, ‘Surely I can—'” I stopped.
Shirley.
“That's it. We'll call you Shirley.”

Eric laughed. “Shirley? ”

“Shirley.” It felt like the dog had named herself.

Poor Shirley had to stay in her kennel in the basement while the rest of us opened gifts. Adam and Eve would have barked us crazy, but she didn't whine or bark once.

Roni loved her newts and named them Curly and Moe, in honor of two of the Three Stooges. She gave me a black T-shirt that read:
Née pour danser!
“It's French for ‘Born to dance!' ” said Roni my interpreter.

I pulled the shirt on over my fancy blouse. “I love it!” I exclaimed, hugging her. She let me.

I felt rotten about not really having a present for Eric, thanks to his mother. So when nobody was looking, I ripped Mom's tag off her gift to Eric. “This is just something to take to college with you,” I said, handing him the bag of books.

He unwrapped the aged copies of
The Old Man and the Sea, To Kill a Mockingbird,
and
Doctor Zhivago.
“They're great, Bailey. Thanks.”

Eric's parents had come out to watch the unwrapping. “How lovely!” Mrs. Strang exclaimed. “Are they first editions? ”

I tried to laugh it off. “'Fraid not. Just old.” I didn't know how much first editions cost, but I knew Mom had never been able to afford one.

“Ah,” she said. “Well, they're very nice. I'm sure they'll come in handy.”

Eric kissed me. “Thanks, Bailey. Now you.” He handed me a large box wrapped in silver and gold, with a white bell for a bow.

I shook it. It felt like clothes. “It's too pretty to open.”

“Go on!” Eric said. It was fun seeing him so excited about giving me a gift. If his parents hadn't been watching, I might have jumped his bones right there.

I unwrapped the package. Inside was an amazing dress. “Eric, it's beautiful!” I took it out of the box and stood up with it. The bodice, covered in pearl beading, was strapless, which I loved, and even the floor-length skirt was covered in crystal and pearl beading. It was classic and sophisticated, although I wouldn't have picked cream-colored or gone for the full skirt. “It's so elegant. I'm not sure where I'll wear it, but it's the most beautiful dress I've ever owned.”

“I had help picking it out.” Eric glanced at his mother. “It's supposed to be this spring's big color.”

“Guaranteed,” Mrs. Strang chimed in. “We can exchange if the size isn't right.”

“No, it's perfect.” It
would
be if I could lose ten pounds. It was a size too small.

“It's a Strang Unique,” Eric said.

“You're kidding.” Strang had three lines. I couldn't afford anything in the lowest end. And this was the designer end. “I don't know what to say.”

“There's more,” Eric said.

“More? ” I dug below tissue and came out with an envelope. I opened it and read: “This card entitles you to 5 free waltz lessons. The “5” had been crossed out and “10” written above it. That was crossed out, and “15” was above that. I laughed. “I'm taking you up on this.”

“Good,” Eric said. “Because there's another card under there.”

I reached around the box until I found one last card. I opened it. Inside, in Eric's beautiful handwriting, it said:
Bailey Daley is hereby formally invited to attend the Tri-County Senior Prom with Eric Strang.

Mom and I had our traditionally great Christmas, waking at 5:00 A.M. to open presents under our lighted tree. We'd wrapped treats and balls and bones for Adam and Eve, who tore at their gifts while Mom and I went after ours. I saved a handful of treats for Shirley.

I'd gotten Mom tickets to the
Antiques Roadshow
in Kansas City, where people took their junk and experts appraised it on television. “This is the best thing you've ever given me!” she squealed, hugging the wind out of me. “I'll take those wooden angels. I'll bet they're worth a fortune! And that dish I got in the flea market last week!”

Mom outdid herself on my gifts, too. She'd picked up three Goofy figures I didn't have. She must have been looking for them all year. Amber came over, and we exchanged gifts and ate Mom's cookies and Amber's Christmas brownies for lunch. Then the three of us, with Adam and Eve, built a Christmas snow-woman and a little snowdog.

I was having a great Christmas, but I missed Eric. We'd texted on and off all day, but I couldn't stand not seeing him on Christmas. Finally I broke down and phoned him.

“Hey, Bailey.” He sounded glad to hear from me.

“Eric, I'm claiming my Christmas gift. I want my first waltz lesson.”

He laughed softly. “Sounds great, honey. I just don't know if I can sneak away.”

“Well, you have to. A gift is a gift.”

“Good point. Be there as soon as I can.”

“And Eric! Bring Shirley.”

It was dark when Eric arrived, carrying Shirley out in front of him like she was a football ready to be drop-kicked.

I kissed my boyfriend and took his dog. “How's my Shirley? ” I rubbed her tummy, and she licked my nose. “I missed you.”

Eric took off his boots and coat. “You only met the dog yesterday, and already you're attached? What is it with you and dogs? ”

I couldn't explain it. I nuzzled Shirley. She knew. “You have to sleep over here sometimes, Shirley.”

“I'm not sure that's such a great idea.”

“Why not? ”

“You are a great influence, Bailey. But your dogs are another story.”

“What's the matter with my dogs? ”

“I'm sure they're great dogs. I just don't want Shirley to pick up any bad habits.”

“From Adam and Eve? They don't have any bad habits.”

“They bark.”

“Dogs are supposed to bark.”

“Not this one.”

Mom came in and spotted the little dog. “Well, you must be Shirley.” She took the dog out of my arms and snuggled her. Adam and Eve came running. Adam barked at the intruder, but Eve lunged at Mom, trying to get a good look at Shirley.

“Come on, guys.” Mom walked away, with Adam and Eve trailing her. I heard the kitchen door open and the dogs go out.

“What did she do? ” Eric asked.

We scurried to the kitchen and crowded at the storm door to watch all three dogs in the snow. Shirley stood like a statue while Adam and Eve danced around her. They sniffed every inch of the newcomer. Finally, Shirley thawed and pranced around the backyard with the other dogs. They nose-dived into the soft snow.

“She's going to get dirty out there,” Eric said.

“Well, I hope so,” Mom muttered.

 

It was a week before I could convince Eric to bring Shirley over again. We were up to waltz lesson number three. Our second lesson had been on New Year's Eve at the country club. We hadn't danced much because I was working, but Eric hung around and gave me my kiss at the stroke of midnight.

“So,” Mom said, plopping down on the couch. “Waltz already. I want to see if these lessons are paying off.”

“Me too,” Amber said, crashing beside Mom.

I put in Mom's
Doctor Zhivago
CD and punched up “Lara's Theme”—the “Somewhere, My Love” song—and started waltzing with my boyfriend. We'd barely gotten going when Adam and Eve burst into the room, barking and chasing each other in circles. Little Shirley trotted behind Eve, silent as ever.

Eric stopped dancing and shut off the music. “Whoa. Sorry. Too many dogs for me.”

“Too many dogs? ” I asked. “How many is too many? ”

Amber laughed.

Eric frowned. “Uh . . . apparently, three.”

Mom groaned. “Bailey, no.”

I nodded to Amber, and we pulled Mom off the couch. “You, sir, may take a seat in the audience,” I told Eric. “This is a Three Dog Night.”

He laughed, but he had no idea.

“Hit it!” I shouted.

Amber changed to the third CD slot, where we always kept our special music. “Let's get goofy!” I cried.

The music blared. Over the soundtrack, we sang out our own words: “Jeremiah was a hound dog!” I messed up some of the lyrics, but we danced our routine with perfect synchronization, if I do say so myself.

When we were done, Eric gave us a standing ovation, but with less enthusiasm than Adam and Eve and Shirley were showing us.