Rascal by Ellen Miles Page A

sweetie?” Lizzie’s mom came through the living room, chasing after the Bean, Lizzie’s youngest brother. The Bean (his real name was Adam, but nobody ever called him that) liked to pretend he was a dog. At the moment, he had a stuffed toy in his mouth and he was crawling fast. He was playing keep-away from Mom. Mom stopped and gave Lizzie a curious look. “You must be excited about your riding lesson.”
    â€œI guess,” said Lizzie, shrugging.
    â€œYou’re a brave girl,” her dad said. He had come into the room with the morning newspaper — theone that her mom was a reporter for — and he was sitting down on the couch. “Personally, I’ve always been a little bit afraid of horses. They’re just so
big.”
    Charles went over and gave his dad a high five. “That’s exactly what I told her,” he said.
    Lizzie stared at her dad. He was a grown man, a firefighter! She’d never imagined he was afraid of anything, much less horses. If
he
was scared . . . For a second, Lizzie thought about changing her mind. All she had to do was admit to her parents that she was terrified. They wouldn’t make her do something that scared her.
    Then she heard a car in the driveway. “That must be Maria!” she said. It was too late. Now she had to go through with it. But as she was walking toward the front door, she heard a dog barking. It was a loud, piercing, high-pitched bark. “That’s not Simba,” she said. Maria’s mother was blind, and Simba was her guide dog. He was a big, calmyellow Labrador retriever who hardly ever barked at all.
    Lizzie opened the front door and saw a car in the driveway. But it wasn’t a blue one. It was green. There was a woman getting out of the car. In one hand she held a bag of dog food. In the other, she held a red leather leash. And at the end of the leash was an adorable puppy. It was white, with patches of black and tan. It was jumping straight up and down as if all four legs were pogo sticks.
Boing! Boing!
And it was barking its little head off.
    By now, Lizzie’s family was standing behind her at the open door. They were all staring at the puppy.
    â€œPlease!” exclaimed the woman. “You have to help me.”

“That’s Susan, from work,” Mrs. Peterson said. “Susan?” she asked the woman. “What are you —”
    â€œI can’t take it anymore,” said the woman. “We tried. We really did. But we just can’t deal with this dog.” She had to shout to be heard over the puppy’s barking.
    At the same time, a baby in a car seat inside the car started to wail, and the two blond little kids strapped in next to him began to yell, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!”
    Lizzie walked over to the woman and took the leash from her hand. “Come on, pup,” she said, leaning down to scoop the excited puppy into her arms. “Quiet down.
Shh, shh,
you’re being silly.”
    Let me down! Let me down! Let me down! The puppy wriggled and barked. What good was being in a new place if you couldn’t explore? Oh, well, if he couldn’t get down, maybe he could at least make a new friend!
    The puppy struggled a little, but then seemed to decide that he liked being in Lizzie’s arms. He gave a few last barks before he started to lick her face instead. Starting at her chin, he worked his way up to the inside of her nostrils, which made Lizzie giggle because it tickled so much. She couldn’t believe how friendly the little guy was.
    After a grateful smile at Lizzie, the woman had turned back to the car to talk to her children. “It’s okay, guys,” she said. “These people will take good care of Rascal.” She unbuckled the kids’ seat belts so they could climb out of the car, and took the baby out of his car seat, settling him on her hip.
    â€œRascal!” Lizzie loved that name. It was perfect for the wild little