“Are you OK, honey?” Mom asked.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
After dinner, I went into my room and grabbed my dog books. I figured I should read about microchips and otoscopes. But every time I tried to concentrate, I ended up staring out the window.
At bedtime, Mom came in and gave me a kiss. “Don’t worry, Baxter will be well soon,” and I realized that I hadn’t even been thinking about Baxter.
I’d been thinking about Tyler.
He got in trouble at school, all the time.
But he’d been so good with Baxter, petting him so nicely.
Mrs. Wilson had been so mad at him during Study Buddies that she glared her eagle eye at him.
But he’d been nice to TJ, inviting him to shoot hoops.
And his movie sounded really good.
How could Tyler be the worst kid in the whole class sometimes and then at other times not seem that way at all?
It was so confusing that I was still thinking about it the next morning. I ate my breakfast superfast. “I’m going over to Dad’s!” I yelled to Mom. And before she could say it, I added, “Seven fifteen on the nose!”
Then I ran over there.
I made my hot chocolate and then settled on the couch with Dad, who was drinking his coffee.
“Did you get in trouble a lot at school?” I asked him.
“Sometimes. It depended on the class.” He smiled. “I liked band practice and choir.” He set down his cup and picked up his guitar. “Why do you ask? Is something wrong?”
“No.” I shrugged. “I’m just figuring things out.”
Dad nodded. “Me too, kiddo. Me too.” Then he began to play.
I leaned back and listened, wondering if Dad’s getting in trouble was the same as Tyler’s. And also wondering how you could be a grown-up and still be figuring things out.
Then Dad said, “What time is it?”
I checked the clock: 7:12. “Gotta go!”
I still hadn’t figured out Tyler, but if Dad was still figuring things out and he was a grown-up, there was no way I could figure out all of Tyler in just one morning. Besides, I had something way more important to do before school: I’d promised Baxter I’d check on him and see how he was feeling.
TJ was a slowpoke like always until I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I wonder how Spike is feeling this morning.” Then he sped up.
We were so early that when Professor Reese opened the door in her lavender leotard and footless tights (looking a little bit like an Easter egg), she invited us in.
TJ ran down to the lab to check on Spike, and I went straight to Baxter.
The vet was right that Baxter’s hearing might be affected. Professor Reese had moved his bed from the bedroom down into the living room so he could doze while she did her yoga. He was dozing so hard that he didn’t even notice me until I knelt down next to him.
“Your ears aren’t all better yet, are they?” I shook my head.
Baxter shook his head—only once he started, he shook it extra long and hard because he was trying to shake the ache out of his ears.
“I need to put in the ointment,” Professor Reese said. “Would you like to help?” So she did the left ear, and then I did the right one.
Professor Reese went back to doing her yoga and crossword puzzle like normal (or as normal as things could be considering it was Professor Reese) while I petted and patted everywhere but Baxter’s ears. And pretty soon he was dozing again.
“What’s an eleven-letter word for ‘prone to fussiness’?” she asked. “It needs to end in y.”
“Superfussy?”
“That’s only ten letters.” She frowned. “Hmmm . . .” Then she bent into downward dog to think about it, and I snuggled Dozing Dog to help him feel better.
“Are we going to be teleporting the hat while Baxter is sick?” I asked.
“Persnickety!” She stood back up and wrote it in 7-across. “No. I want to give Baxter a few days off. But I came to a big realization last night. All this time, we’ve been looking at the situation from Baxter’s point of view. Last night, I finally figured out a way to look at it from the hat’s.” She smiled, and her eyes got sparkly.
“Cool,” I said, and I wondered now that I was her lab assistant if maybe my eyes were sparkly, too.
“I’m a little nervous about pulling it off,” Professor Reese added—which surprised me, as she never seemed nervous about anything. “But mostly I’m very excited. I think we’ll learn a lot.” She smiled. “I’ll tell you about it this afternoon.”
16Bounce-Pass Keep-Away
When I got to school, I ran over to Megan and Aisha and Jasmine, by the bars. I told them about looking through the otoscope at Baxter’s ear and putting in the ear ointment.
“Aw, poor Baxter!” Aisha said.
“Give him a big kiss for me!” Jasmine said. Then she and Aisha grabbed their backpacks and ran toward the classroom.
Me and Megan trailed behind. “I wish I could come over after school to help him feel better,” she said.
“Me too.”
Megan shrugged. “I asked my mom last night if I could come over to your house today before my lesson, but she said we have to go shopping for a new dress for my recital.”
“Ooh. That’s exciting.”
She sighed. “Not really.” The bell rang. “I don’t really like piano that much—it’s my mom who wants me to play.” Then she ran toward class.
I couldn’t believe it! Megan’s lessons always sounded like so much fun—I didn’t know she was stuck doing one she didn’t even like!
I ran to the classroom and sat down in my seat. All during language arts, I thought about how some people—like Dad—would probably love piano lessons, but Megan didn’t.
I wondered if you ever started something that you didn’t like and you kept doing it, you might start to like it later. But I also wondered if you tried something for a while and still didn’t like it, if it was OK
