How to Steal a Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

through the car window.
    Mama had disappeared inside, but her voice came drifting out to us. “There’s no snakes. There’s even some furniture. Come on.”
    I looked at Toby and he looked at me.
    â€œYou think there’s really snakes in there?” he said.
    â€œSnakes and worse,” I said. “Probably rats and spiders and dead stuff.”
    Toby started wailing. Mama came out and made her way back to the car, pushing the bushes aside to make a path. “Come on,” she said, opening the door and gathering up the box and trash bags and stuff.
    â€œNo,” I said. “I’m staying here.”
    â€œNo,” Toby said. “I’m staying here.”
    Mama slammed the box down and yanked the back door open.
    â€œListen here,” she hollered. “I’m doing the best I can. At least we’ll have a roof over our heads and some room to spread out. It won’t be for long.”
    â€œHow long?” I said.
    She sighed. “Not long,” she said. “I almost have enough for rent, but most places want a deposit, too.

    You two just don’t get it.” Her voice started getting louder until she was hollering again. “You think all I got to do is snap my fingers and bingo!” She pounded on top of the car. “There’s the rent and there’s the deposit and there’s the gas for the car,” she yelled. “And snap , there’s electricity and water and phone. Not to mention food and clothes and doctors and STUFF” She kicked the car when she yelled the word “stuff.”
    Toby and I jumped.
    â€œNow get out of the dern car and come inside,” she said. Then she picked up the box and started back through the bushes toward the house.
    I gathered up my pillow and our beach towel wall. “Come on, Toby,” I said. “Let’s go.”
    Â 
    Â 
    The house smelled damp and moldy. The floor was littered with leaves and acorns. In the front room, a lumpy couch stood underneath the plywood-covered window. Mice or rats or something had chewed through the fabric to the foam stuffing beneath. Stacks of yellowing newspapers were piled in one corner. Two empty cans of pork and beans sat on a rusty wood stove.
    I followed Mama into the kitchen. The cracked linoleum floor was sticky and made squeaky noises as we walked across it. I wrinkled my nose and peered into the sink. Twigs and dirt that had fallen through a hole in the
ceiling floated in a puddle of dark brown water. I turned the faucet, but no water came out. Not even one little drop. In one corner of the kitchen, a wobbly table was covered with empty soda cans and beer bottles. Cigarette butts were scattered on the floor beneath it.
    â€œOur nasty ole car is better than this place,” I said, but Mama acted like she didn’t hear me. She set the box on the table and pushed her hair out of her face.
    â€œY’all bring the rest of our stuff in and let’s start cleaning this place up,” she said.
    That night, I lay on the floor on top of piled-up clothes, covered with my beach towel, and stared at the mildewed ceiling.
    In one corner, rain had leaked in and left a dark spot.
    I narrowed my eyes, and that dark spot looked just like Willy. His ears and his eyes and even his whiskers. That morning, I had pushed him right out of my mind and now here he was back again, all because of this awful old house.
    I could hear Mama tossing and turning on the other side of the room. Toby was curled up next to me. Every now and then his leg jerked. I bet he was dreaming about spiders and snakes.
    I wanted more than anything to go to sleep so I wouldn’t have to think about stuff, but I couldn’t. I just lay there thinking about how everything had gotten so messed up and all. Then I remembered an Aesop’s fable
that Mr. White had read us in school. The one about the hares and the frogs. I could still hear him reading the moral at the end.