Leo the Lioness by Constance C. Greene Page B

little.
    â€œWhen you say ‘people’ in that soppy way; you mean boys.”
    â€œWell, after all, Dave goes to college and he’s having some friends as ushers and all that. Dave is so good-looking,” Nina cooed.
    â€œIf you like the type,” I said coldly. “Dave’s friends wouldn’t give you the time of day. They’re all as old as he is.”
    â€œSpeak for yourself.” Nina smiled smugly. “A boy in a car whistled at me yesterday and stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride and he must’ve been at least twenty.”
    â€œThat’s it,” I said. “Start taking rides from strangers in cars and you’ll wind up sexually molested in a shallow grave.”
    â€œI didn’t take the ride, finkhead. I just said he asked me.”
    â€œWhat’d you do, run into the bushes screaming?”
    â€œWhy don’t you stop cutting everybody up into little pieces?” Jen said.
    â€œI can’t stand phonies.” I got up and walked away. I would go to the wedding but that didn’t mean I’d enjoy it.
    Count was coming toward me across the grass and he had something in his mouth. He’d probably been raiding garbage cans for miles around. He has a bad reputation for raiding. He looked sheepish.
    If a dog can look sheepish, can a sheep look doggish? Hey. Pretty good. I laughed. I enjoy my own jokes. If Jen had still been the good egg she used to be, I would have told her this one. It was her type. But now she was nothing but a colossal bore, what with her “boys, boys, boys” routine. And if it wasn’t boys, it was “clothes, clothes, clothes.” I don’t see how we could ever have been best friends.
    Count had a gigantic bone. It was so big it looked as if it had belonged to a dinosaur. He rolled his eyes around. I think he was afraid to put it down. Some other dog might take it away from him.
    â€œYou’re a clod,” I told him. He smiled at me. I swear he did. His mouth sort of stretched out on either side of the bone and he smiled. But he still didn’t let go.
    â€œYou can’t trust humans,” I told him. “That’s one thing about you. I can trust you to always be my friend. You’re not going to get boy-crazy, like some people I could mention.”
    I sat down on our back steps and watched him and after a while Count let the bone drop and then he lay down and put one big paw on top of it and gnawed away.
    John came out to empty our garbage. He is still young enough to consider this a big deal. He considers it a treat. He’ll learn.
    â€œHey, John, I’ve got a good one for you,” I said. He didn’t have his hat on for once and his face was pale from being under the brim all summer. His arms and legs were very tan, though. He was two-toned.
    â€œIf a dog can look sheepish, can a sheep look doggish?”
    I waited. Sometimes John is a little slow to get things. I think it is because I expect too much of him. He is only seven, after all, and maybe my humor is too sophisticated for him.
    But then his face broke into wrinkles and he laughed the funny high laugh he has. I’m not absolutely sure he got it anyway, but he wouldn’t let on. He has too much pride.
    â€œI made it up,” I said.
    John nodded. “I thought so,” he said.
    â€œYou’re my favorite brother, kid,” I told him.
    He smiled. He is missing two front teeth. On him it is very becoming. We went inside and I lined the pail for him. He does not do such a hot job of lining garbage pails.

20.
    Today is my birthday. I am fourteen years old. I got a card from Carla in the mail, which I thought very nice of her, considering her wedding is two days away.
    My mother and father gave me a typewriter. That is what I wanted more than anything. My handwriting is execrable and this will help immeasurably. I am going to train myself in the touch system. I have already memorized the top row