asks.
“Don’t remind me,” I say, shooting a look at Meghan. The last time I was involved in a crime, Officer Ramon Martinez brought me home … and ended up dating my mom. Which turned out pretty well, actually. Except for the part where I got grounded. “We’ll have to bring the frog back.”
“They aren’t going to take back a frog that has been slobbered on,” Marco points out helpfully.
Ugh! Now I have to pay for Tessie’s contraband? “I hope you’re grateful,” I say to the dog, who wags her tail at me. Oh, well. The tag sale is only charging twenty-five cents for small stuffed animals, so it won’t exactly break the bank. Besides, it’s partly my fault. I should have been watching her. I was just caught up in my lazy Susan purchase.
Marco snaps another photo, then looks at the camera screen. He laughs a little, then holds it out so I can see. He’s managed to capture me frowning down at Tessie, and the little dog looking up at me adorably.
“Now there’s a face that could get away with anything,” Meghan says. She puts the lazy Susan on her hip and leans down awkwardly to give the dog a pat.
“Don’t encourage her,” I grumble as we fall into step back the way we came. Northampton sidewalks are pretty wide, and there are only a few stray singles and couples browsing the stores, so we have no trouble walking in a line together. Marco pauses to snap photos once or twice. He notices things I don’t, like graffiti on a fire hydrant and asmall patch of yellow crocuses blooming between the roots of an urban maple tree.
“Hey, Marco — do you have summer plans?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says. “Why?”
“Well, there’s this photography program at Islip Academy,” I explain. “I think it’s competitive to get in, but your stuff is so good —”
“You should do it!” Meghan chimes in. “My sister has a friend who did it last year and said it was amazing.”
“I don’t think my dad will go for it.” Marco watches the usual snarl of pedestrians and cars in front of the converted department store that serves as Northampton’s very own tiny mall. “It’s probably expensive.”
The faraway look on his face makes me sad. Marco’s parents are … complicated. Well, infuriating might be a better word. Sometimes I wonder why they ever had children.
We reach the Unitarian Society, where a group of people have set things out on tables and blankets for a community tag sale. The scene of the crime.
“Listen, Hayley, I’ve got to run,” Marco says suddenly, “but I’ve been thinking about the barbecue. Should I pickyou up around seven thirty? I thought we should get there a little early, since I’m bringing the cooler and taking pictures and everything. You won’t mind hanging out with me while I do that, right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Meghan cocking her head and looking at me. I don’t glance her way.
“Um, sure, Marco,” I tell him. “That sounds great.”
“Okay. Awesome.” He clicks a picture of a bunch of old teapots at the tag sale, then heads down the street.
“So — uh — I think that blanket over there is where Tessie must have gotten the frog,” I say, pointing to a small mountain of stuffed animals.
“Marco asked you to the barbecue?” Meghan asks.
That girl is extremely good at staying on target. “Um, yeah.”
“When?”
“Uh — a couple of days ago?” More like a week , I realize.
“And yet you never mentioned it,” Meghan points out. This is half observation, half question. What she’s really asking is, “Why?”
“It just seemed like it wasn’t a big deal.” I tug Tessie’s leash gently, and we start toward the cashier, where I explainthe situation and hand over a quarter. The white-bearded Santa Claus–looking man who takes my money finds the whole situation uproarious, and then repeats the story about the shoplifting dog to a couple of women working nearby. Well, I’m glad that my foster dog’s
“Don’t remind me,” I say, shooting a look at Meghan. The last time I was involved in a crime, Officer Ramon Martinez brought me home … and ended up dating my mom. Which turned out pretty well, actually. Except for the part where I got grounded. “We’ll have to bring the frog back.”
“They aren’t going to take back a frog that has been slobbered on,” Marco points out helpfully.
Ugh! Now I have to pay for Tessie’s contraband? “I hope you’re grateful,” I say to the dog, who wags her tail at me. Oh, well. The tag sale is only charging twenty-five cents for small stuffed animals, so it won’t exactly break the bank. Besides, it’s partly my fault. I should have been watching her. I was just caught up in my lazy Susan purchase.
Marco snaps another photo, then looks at the camera screen. He laughs a little, then holds it out so I can see. He’s managed to capture me frowning down at Tessie, and the little dog looking up at me adorably.
“Now there’s a face that could get away with anything,” Meghan says. She puts the lazy Susan on her hip and leans down awkwardly to give the dog a pat.
“Don’t encourage her,” I grumble as we fall into step back the way we came. Northampton sidewalks are pretty wide, and there are only a few stray singles and couples browsing the stores, so we have no trouble walking in a line together. Marco pauses to snap photos once or twice. He notices things I don’t, like graffiti on a fire hydrant and asmall patch of yellow crocuses blooming between the roots of an urban maple tree.
“Hey, Marco — do you have summer plans?” I ask.
“Not really,” he says. “Why?”
“Well, there’s this photography program at Islip Academy,” I explain. “I think it’s competitive to get in, but your stuff is so good —”
“You should do it!” Meghan chimes in. “My sister has a friend who did it last year and said it was amazing.”
“I don’t think my dad will go for it.” Marco watches the usual snarl of pedestrians and cars in front of the converted department store that serves as Northampton’s very own tiny mall. “It’s probably expensive.”
The faraway look on his face makes me sad. Marco’s parents are … complicated. Well, infuriating might be a better word. Sometimes I wonder why they ever had children.
We reach the Unitarian Society, where a group of people have set things out on tables and blankets for a community tag sale. The scene of the crime.
“Listen, Hayley, I’ve got to run,” Marco says suddenly, “but I’ve been thinking about the barbecue. Should I pickyou up around seven thirty? I thought we should get there a little early, since I’m bringing the cooler and taking pictures and everything. You won’t mind hanging out with me while I do that, right?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Meghan cocking her head and looking at me. I don’t glance her way.
“Um, sure, Marco,” I tell him. “That sounds great.”
“Okay. Awesome.” He clicks a picture of a bunch of old teapots at the tag sale, then heads down the street.
“So — uh — I think that blanket over there is where Tessie must have gotten the frog,” I say, pointing to a small mountain of stuffed animals.
“Marco asked you to the barbecue?” Meghan asks.
That girl is extremely good at staying on target. “Um, yeah.”
“When?”
“Uh — a couple of days ago?” More like a week , I realize.
“And yet you never mentioned it,” Meghan points out. This is half observation, half question. What she’s really asking is, “Why?”
“It just seemed like it wasn’t a big deal.” I tug Tessie’s leash gently, and we start toward the cashier, where I explainthe situation and hand over a quarter. The white-bearded Santa Claus–looking man who takes my money finds the whole situation uproarious, and then repeats the story about the shoplifting dog to a couple of women working nearby. Well, I’m glad that my foster dog’s
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