Bandit by Ellen Miles Page A

mouth, and she and Maria giggled.
    “You really don’t have to finish it all if you’re full,” said Mrs. Santiago. “Maybe we could have the last few bites wrapped up as a special treat for Simba.”
    Simba was a big, beautiful yellow Lab. He was actually right there with them in the restaurant, under the table at Mrs. Santiago’s feet. Maria’s mom was blind, and Simba was her guide dog, which meant he was allowed to go everywhere she went. Simba had the best manners of any dog Lizzie had ever known. He never begged, or barked, or jumped up, or ran off with something that didn’t belong to him. He just waited, quietly and patiently, always ready to help.
    “Well … okay,” said Lizzie. “I’m sure I could finish, but Simba definitely deserves a treat.”
    Mr. Santiago called the waitress over and asked for a doggy bag. “It’s for a real doggy,” he said, pointing to Simba, and the waitress smiled.
    She went away, and when she came back shegave Lizzie a container to put her leftovers in. She also put the check down in front of Mr. Santiago.
    “Mom gave me money to pay for all our breakfasts,” Lizzie said quickly, pulling some bills out of her pocket. “She said it was so nice of you to take me with you to the cabin, and that I was supposed to insist on paying.”
    Mr. Santiago smiled. “Well, then. I guess we’ll accept, with a big thank-you to your folks. That’s very nice.”
    “Can we go pay?” Maria asked. She leaned over and whispered to Lizzie. “They have free mints up at the cash register.”
    “Sure,” said her mom, and Lizzie and Maria scooted out of their booth.
    Lizzie followed Maria, noticing that none of the people they passed looked the way she’d always thought a trucker would look. She’d imagined that Maria’s uncle Teo, for example, would be a big guywith lots of tattoos and maybe a shaved head. A tough-looking guy. But all the men and women she saw, leaning into cups of coffee at the counter or squirting ketchup on a cheeseburger and fries, just looked like people you’d run into anywhere.
    “See?” Maria said when they got to the cash register, where a gray-haired lady sat on a stool. She pointed at a bowl of red and white striped peppermints.
    But Lizzie barely heard her. She was too busy looking at the gray-haired lady. Or, rather, she was looking at the puppy in the lady’s arms.

CHAPTER TWO
    Lizzie had seen lots and lots of puppies, and every single one of them had been cute. But this puppy? This puppy was
beyond
cute. This puppy was so cute she could hardly stand it. He had a long, silky-looking coat—mostly white with some black patches—and long, floppy ears and a black button nose. His sparkly black eyes peeked back at her, framed by a mask of black fur. “Oh!” Lizzie tugged on Maria’s arm. “Look!”
    Maria turned and gasped. “What an adorable puppy,” she said. “What kind is it?”
    Lizzie answered before the lady could sayanything. “It’s a Shih Tzu, isn’t it?” she asked. Slowly, so she wouldn’t scare the puppy, she reached out a hand for it to sniff. Lizzie had seen pictures of Shih Tzus before, but she hadn’t paid that much attention. She loved all dogs, she really did. But small dogs? Maybe she loved them just a teensy bit less than she loved big dogs. And Shih Tzus were very, very small. On her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster, she remembered now, it said that the little fur-balls never grew more than a foot tall.
    “Shidzoo?” the lady asked, pronouncing it the way Lizzie had. “I guess that’s what he is.” She looked down at the puppy and shrugged. “That’s what the note said, anyway.”
    “Note?” Lizzie asked. By now she was stroking the puppy’s soft, soft fur. The puppy stuck out a tiny pink tongue and licked Lizzie’s hand.
    The lady sighed. “Somebody left this puppy at the kitchen door this morning. Must have been before four A.M. since Pinky—that’s the cook—always gets here at four sharp to open