Call Me Amy Read Online Free PDF Page A

off? His faded blue-jean legs stretched halfway out into the aisle. With no trouble at all, I worked myself into a frenzy. Had I dreamed up the whole story? Was Craig thinking about Pup, too? Did he hope I would forget to visit? Or maybe he forgot he invited me?
    On the bus ride home, I couldn’t decide if I should get off the bus one stop early or not. I did.
    I watched the bus rumble away as I fanned the fumes from my face, then turned to see Craig waiting at the corner. “C’mon, slow poke,” he called. I caught up to him, and we walked together, my short legs taking two steps to each of his long strides.
    â€œGot any pets?” he asked.
    I shook my head. For months I had been begging for a pet, and was just beginning to realize it wasn’t going to happen. “The last thing we need,” my mother had said while she arranged her knick-knacks, “is a dog leaping around or a cat leaving fur balls all over the place.” My father would just get that look in his eyes of not quite listening, although once he did shake his head and mumble, “Too much work.” They didn’t seem to get that I’d be the one taking care of the pet.
    â€œHuh?” he said, leaning down to hear me.
    â€œNo, but I want one.”
    â€œMe, too. I’ve always wanted a dog, and now I’ve got Pup. I know, I know . . . a funny-looking dog but wait ’till you hear him bark.” Craig lifted his chin to the sky. “Arf, Arf.” He laughed, his head thrown back, white teeth showing. “Just kidding. I’m not sure if he can bark. I think it’s only sea lions that do that.”
    We continued walking in silence while I struggled to think of something to say. The afternoon sun was stronger now, and the wind had died down. I carried my math and social studies books. Craig just had a saggy gym bag. The walk seemed to take forever, and since Port Wells is such a small town, I wondered why I had never bothered to come over this way before.
    â€œYou don’t talk much, do you?” he said easily, interrupting my thoughts.
    I shrugged my shoulders like an idiot. I mean, what was I supposed to say? A few years back my family used to call me chatterbox, but I knew he wouldn’t believe that, so why bother getting into it. With Nancy always picking on me, I’d learned it was safer to keep my mouth shut, even at home. I rearranged the books in my arm.
    â€œHey, I’m not makin’ fun of you.” Craig grinned. “It just makes big mouths like me want to know what goes on inside your head. That’s probably why you’re so smart in school. You listen more careful to stuff.”
    I shrugged again, anxious to change the subject. “So, where’s your house?”
    â€œStraight ahead.”
    Craig lived on a busy street—at least busy for Port Wells—with similar rundown houses along both sides. Each home had a small square of grass between it and the road. I guess he noticed me looking around because he said, “A little different from your mansion.”
    I was about to tell a white lie and say his place was nice, but Craig put one finger to his lips as though we weren’t supposed to be there.
    Outside Craig’s garage was a big heap of bicycles, tricycles, a wagon, and a lawnmower. I remembered that Craig had several little brothers and sisters.
    â€œHad to make room for Pup,” he said.
    Craig tossed his gym bag down and grabbed the handle of the garage door, sliding it up. Then he stepped inside, reached into a rusty cooler and pulled out a small fish. Sunshine poured in through the open door. I searched the garage. Craig got down on his knees and motioned for me to do the same.
    â€œHere, Pup,” he called quietly. He wiggled the fish out in front of him, and directed his actions toward one area. I peered into the darkened corner and made out two bright eyes above a pair of whiskers, as Pup inched his blubbery shape