Say Good-bye by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

Sit!” I say.
    Sneakers chases a squirrel up into a tree.
    Maggie snickers. I ignore her. I stride over to the tree to retrieve my pooch.
    “Sherlock,” Maggie continues like a commandsergeant in the U.S. Marines. “Lie down.” She makes a motion with her hand.
    Sherlock’s short legs slide out in front of him till he’s lying on the ground.
    I get Sneakers’ attention and say, “Lie down!” Sneakers sits.
    I shove my hair behind my ear and get down on my knees. “Come on, Sneak. Please?” I whisper. “You’re making me look bad here.” More loudly, I say, “Lie down!” I tug at his front paws, trying to make him lie flat.
    Sneakers yips and tries to pull away.
    Maggie clucks her tongue. Then she gives Sherlock another order. “Stay.” She holds her hand out like a traffic cop telling cars to stop.
    Then she walks away.
    I can’t believe it—Sherlock stays exactly where he is. Like his bottom’s glued to the ground!
    Then, very quietly, Maggie says, “Come!”
    Sherlock bounds across the grass, his long ears flopping.
    “Good dog!” Maggie cries, giving Sherlock a hug. “You’re the best dog in the world!”
    If I were a dog, I’d be growling at them. But I won’t give up. I face my puppy sternly. “Stay,” I say as I begin to back away.
    Sneakers gets up.
    “No, sit!”
    Sneakers heads toward me.
    “No, no!” I shout.
    Sneakers runs off across the yard.
    “Come back here!” I cry as I chase after him.
    Sneakers circles around the yard and hides under the deck.
    Panting, I blow the stray strands of hair out of my eyes and frown at Maggie. “It’s not fair!”
    “What?!” she exclaims.
    “It’s not fair,” I say. “Sherlock’s old. You’ve had years to train him.”
    “Oh, brother,” Maggie says.
    “And how do I know you didn’t have somebody else teach him all these tricks in the first place?” I realize I’m kind of shouting, but I’m angry. Maggie has had Sherlock forever, and Sneakers is just a puppy.
    “The only problem with Sneakers is lack of a good teacher,” Maggie says. “You send him mixed signals. He doesn’t know what to do.” She mimics me in a high, silly voice. “Come. No! Don’t! Do! Stay. Stop!”
    “Stop that!” I shout, even though I have to force myself not to laugh. “I don’t sound like that.”
    Maggie’s laughing now. “Yeah, you do.”
    “No, I don’t!” I insist hotly. “And besides, Sneakers is just a mutt. Maybe it’s harder for him to learn.”
    Maggie scowls. “Maybe that’s the problem,” she says. “Maybe to you, he’s ‘just a mutt.’ Maybe he’s not fancy and expensive enough for you to really care about!”
    “That’s not true!” I shout.
    “Girls! Girls!” Gran comes striding out of the clinic.
    Maggie and I instantly stop fighting.
    “Hi, Gran,” I say cheerfully. “What’s up?”
    “I can hear you both howling like wet cats all the way inside the clinic!” she says.
    “It’s Zoe’s fault,” Maggie instantly replies. “She’s—”
    “Maggie’s being rude,” I insist.
    “Hold it!” Gran holds up both hands in front of her. “I’ve had enough of you two fighting. Maggie, inside.”
    “But, Gran—”
    “Now. Before you two say things you’ll be sorry about later.”
    Maggie sulks and heads toward the house. “Sherlock, come!”
    When the basset hound follows instantly, Maggie shoots me a triumphant look. Then they disappear inside the house.
    Gran turns toward me.
    “I’m sorry, Gran, but Maggie is just so—”
    “Why don’t you take a walk, Zoe.”
    “But, Gran—”
    “Take a walk, Zoe. It’ll do you good. And take Sneakers with you. On a leash. That’s the only way to train a dog.”
    With a sigh, I find Sneakers’ leash. At least I don’t have to put up with Maggie’s put-downs anymore.
    Then Sneakers and I take off. I’m so charged up, I walk really fast. Sneakers seems to enjoy it. We walk for twenty minutes without slowing down.
    I decide to stop by Jane’s salon to