realized I must be starving.
Still trying to focus, I took two steps and fell on my face.
I stood again, feeling unsteady. What’s wrong? I wondered.
I gazed around the woods. Why were the trees suddenly all black and white?
Why was the sky gray? The grass gray?
What had happened to all the color?
Was this a dream?
I heard a gruff sound behind me. Someone clearing his throat.
I turned—and saw a black Labrador.
I started to cry out—but hoarse barks escaped my throat.
Startled, I glanced down at my own body. My own fur-covered body. “Ohhhh.” I
dug my front paws into the dirt. I shook myself hard, trying to shake the dog
body off. Trying to shake it away so I could see my real body. Cooper’s body.
And as I shook, I jerked my head back. And saw a long, black tail!
My tail!
I let out a startled yip. I’m a dog, too, I realized.
The ghosts in the Changing Room weren’t kidding around. They changed places
with us. Fergie and I are dogs.
Fergie whimpered.
Trembling, we both began to trot, our tails hanging between our legs.
Fergie’s whimpers turned into mournful howls.
What was that? Strange! I thought Fergie said something.
“I did say something,” she insisted. “Well, actually, I thought something. I think we can read each other’s thoughts, Cooper.”
Okay, Fergie, then what am I thinking now?
“You’re thinking of that leftover fried liver from last night that your mom put in the fridge,” Fergie thought.
That’s right!
We could read each other’s mind! Cool!
I licked my lips a few times, thinking about the liver. I loved liver so
much, Mom made it for me once a week. Man, did I want that liver now!
Then I remembered I had other things to worry about.
“Fergie, what are we going to do? We’re dogs!”
“I can see that, Cooper,” she replied, swatting a fly from behind her floppy,
black ear.
“Well, we’ve got to do something!” I cried. “We can’t trot around like this
forever. Those ghost dogs stole our bodies! They’re probably fooling my parents
this very minute!”
Fergie didn’t reply. Instead, she ran around in circles, chasing her tail.
“Hey! This is fun!”
“Fergie! Quit messing around! We’re in major trouble!”
“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’m upset about this, too, you know!”
Fergie dropped to the dirt. She buried her snout in her front paws. Deep in
thought. “You know what, Cooper?”
“What?” I asked as I paced back and forth, trying to think of a way to get us
out of this mess.
“Your droopy ears look pretty good—now that you’re a dog.”
“Fergie! Get serious!” I growled.
Then it hit me.
“I know!” I cried. “I know what we can do. We have to drag those ghosts back
to the shack and trade places with them again!”
“Oh, sure, Cooper. No problem,” Fergie barked. “And how do you suppose we do
that? Walk up to them and say, ‘Uh, excuse me, but can you come back to the
shack with us? It’ll only be for a second.’”
I stared at Fergie. She had become a dog. But her personality hadn’t changed
one bit!
“I heard that,” she mumbled.
I sighed. “Well, do you have a better plan?” I asked, scratching furiously at
my neck.
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” Fergie answered with a yawn. “I’m really so
tired. Maybe after a nap—”
“No! No naps! We have to do something—now! Listen to me. We’ll get my
parents to help. All we have to do is convince them that we’re the real Cooper
and Margaret, and that those kids in the house are imposters.”
“And how are we going to do that?” Fergie asked.
Good question. Real good question.
27
Fergie and I trotted through the woods. I sniffed the ground. Sniffed the
weeds. So many great smells!
We stopped at the edge of the woods behind my house. I heard laughing,
shouting voices. Then I saw my parents. In the backyard. Throwing a Frisbee
around with Fergie and Cooper!
Those fakes!
I growled with anger.
I bared my teeth.
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