Switcharound by Lois Lowry Page A

walk them down to the park where J.P. and Poochie are practicing."
    Her father slumped onto the couch in the family room and shook his head. "Of course. I forgot. Lil's off at that real estate thing. Poor Lil."
    "Why 'Poor Lil'?" Caroline asked a little defensively. "She's got a great baby sitter—cheap, I might add."
    Her father stared at her. "We haven't thanked you enough, Caroline. I'm sorry. I guess I ought to explain. I said 'Poor Lil' because she hates that real estate course. She doesn't want to be a real estate agent. Lil would rather stay home and be a mother than anything else in the world."
    "Well, why doesn't she? Why on earth would someone become a real estate agent if she didn't want to?" Caroline asked, confused.
    Herbie shrugged. He looked embarrassed. "Money," he said finally. "Things aren't so good down at the store, Caroline."
    "But I thought—"
    He shook his head. "It's only temporary. A temporary slump. Don't tell Poochie. Please don't tell Poochie."
    Tell Poochie? Why on earth would she tell a six-year-old kid that his father was having financial problems? And speaking of Poochie, Caroline thought—
    "Does he have a
name,
Dad? A real name? Something that isn't Poochie?"
    Her father smiled. "Of course he does. David Herbert Tate."
    "Then
why—
"
    "After Lillian and I got married, I wanted a kid right away. Because I missed you guys, Caroline. I missed you and J.P. It was really fun having you around when you were little. Your mom and I didn't have a very good marriage, but we sure both liked you kids a lot."
    "Well, if you missed us so much, you could have made us come for the summer," Caroline pointed out.
    "I know," her father said. "But—well, maybe you won't understand this, Caroline. But I wanted my very own full-time kid again."
    "So you had one, and you named him—"
    "Wait. Hold it. Lillian didn't want to have a child right away. She wasn't sure she'd be a good mother. We had a big argument. I wanted a kid. She wanted a dog."
    "And you won."
    Herbie chuckled. "I won. And Lillian turned out to be the best mother around. But for a little joke—well, we named him David Herbert. But we've always called him Pooch."
    "Oh." Caroline squirmed. Pooch was a disgusting nickname, she thought. But she didn't want to tell her father that.
    "Anyway," her father went on, "like I said, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention what I told you to Poochie."
    "I wouldn't do that, Dad."
    "Because he has his big game coming up and all. Don't want to distract him, right?" Herbie Tate stood up. Caroline could almost see him putting his other personality back on, as if he were putting on a coat "Gotta get back to the old store. I just came home to pick up some ledgers from the study. The ole federal marshal's comin' into town on his horse, to check over my books."
    He moved heavily down the hall toward the study, and after a moment he came back with a handful of papers and a briefcase. He sorted through the papers, stacked them, and put them into the briefcase. He sighed.
    "This will all get cleared up," he said. "This will all be cleared up real soon. I'm sure of it." He turned the briefcase over and over in his hands. Caroline watched him.
    "Dad," she said, "you're really worried, aren't you? You're talking about
big
trouble, aren't you?"
    He nodded and was silent for a moment. Then he said in a puzzled voice, "I really can't understand it. The store's always been successful. Okay, so maybe a sporting goods store isn't impressive like a huge corporation—so it's not IBM or GE. But it's always been a good store, Caroline. People in Des Moines have always come to Tate's Sporting Goods for their tennis rackets, for their golf clubs—"
    He shook his head and stared out the window. "I've just never had any problems. A couple of months ago I had to fire someone because I caught him stealing some things. That was the biggest problem I've ever had at work." Herbie laughed sadly. "Big deal. I