Drake the Dandy (2 page)

W
hen Kinsey takes
me to the classroom, the lights are dim. We stand in the doorway, unsure of what to do. In the center of the room there is a large cauldron. Slimy, oozing, green liquid glows in the dark room and boils over a little.

From the back of the room, a woman creeps forward until she reaches the cauldron. The glow from the liquid illuminates her face. In the light, I see jet-black, stringy hair hanging down her back. Her large, brown teeth are crooked and her hooked nose is covered in warts.

“Only one more ingredient and my stew will be complete. But what's missing?” Her voice is growly and fierce.

Suddenly, she locks eyes with me from across the room. I turn to Kinsey, feeling terrified, but in a poof, Kinsey disappears. “That's it!” she cries in triumph. “That's what my stew is missing—a dog! A big, smelly dog will be the perfect addition!”

I try to run away, but all four of my legs are glued to the floor. Out of nowhere, kids begin to surround me, closing in on

me everywhere I look.

“It's time to get into the cauldron, Dog,” I hear one of them say from behind me.

“No one wants you in our classroom,” another voice hisses in my ear.

Desperately I try to peel my feet from the floor, but they're stuck tight. I begin to whimper. The kids get closer and closer, ready to lift me up and take me into the evil witch-teacher's cauldron so that they can all feast on me.

“Drake,” Kinsey's soft voice calls from somewhere in the distance. “Drake, wake up!”

I open my eyes. The first thing I see is Kinsey's sweet face, looking down at me. Glancing around, I see that I am no longer in the creepy classroom, but in Kinsey's bed where I belong. Safe and warm.
It was just a nightmare.

“Were you having a bad dream, buddy? I've never heard you cry like that in your sleep.” She smiles down at me as she strokes the soft fur under my neck. “Try to get some rest, okay? We've got a big day ahead of us.”

Please don't remind me
, I wish I could say.

N
either Kinsey
nor I sleep very well that night, both filled with our own worries about the coming day. But even though we don't sleep much, the night still passes. Soon, it is morning.

The first day of school is finally here, and Kinsey is really quiet. She sits at the table and eats her cereal without saying a word. She smiles at her mom and dad when they talk to her, but her eyes aren't shining as brightly as they usually do.

It's easy to tell how nervous she is by the way her knuckles turn white as she grips my leash when we walk inside the building. I stay right next to her. I try to seem brave for her, but the truth is, I'm shaking on the inside. Last night's horrible dream is still in my mind.

Our teacher's name is Mrs. Williams. The picture of her in my head looks just like the woman from my dream—dark stringy hair, a hooked nose covered in warts, and dingy, crooked teeth. I see her standing over her cauldron and remember Chaucer's warning about how much she will want to torture me.

We walk down the hallway until we find her classroom.

Many other students are already inside, but Kinsey keeps her head down and doesn't look at any of them. I do the same. Maybe if I stay as quiet as possible, no one will notice me.

We are greeted as soon as we walk in. “Hello and welcome! My name is Mrs. Williams. You must be Kinsey, and you must be Drake! I am so excited to have you both in my classroom this year. We are going to have a special assembly this morning so the class can meet Drake. But until the bell rings, tell me all about your summer!”

Her voice is friendly so I dare to look up at her. She couldn't be more different than the teacher in my dream. She is short, with light-colored hair and friendly eyes. The pretty smile on her face—full of pearly white teeth, not crooked yellow ones— makes me feel a little more at ease. Maybe Chaucer was wrong about the teacher. She doesn't look like someone who wants to torture kids and dogs.

Kinsey tells Mrs. Williams about flying on an airplane to go to the training facility. She tells her we are best friends, even though her cat still wishes I wasn't there.

Mrs. Williams laughs at this. She has a big, loud, booming laugh—nothing growly or cackling or witch-like about it. I like her already.

Okay, so maybe this class won't be so bad with a teacher like her. But it still doesn't solve the problem of all the mean kids who will not want me around.

When the bell rings, the students find their desks. Mrs. Williams makes sure everyone is there, and then she calls us to the front of the room right away.

“How many students in this room have a dog?” Mrs.

W
illiams asks
.

Most of the hands go up with students waving eagerly to share a story about their own pets.

“Well, we are here today to meet a very special dog. His name is Drake and he will be here with us every day this year.”

Kinsey and I stand at the front of the room, waiting for the students' reactions. Excited whispers buzz at this news and all the smiles I see make me more comfortable. Kinsey seems to relax a little too.

“Kinsey, would you like to tell the class a little bit about what makes Drake so special?”

Kinsey takes a deep breath. Talk in front of the whole class? She has never done that in her entire life.

But, swallowing her nerves as best she can, she begins. “Well, I just got Drake this summer and he's already my best friend. You see, I have epilepsy. I know you guys already know that, but you remember how I would have seizures sometimes? And they were really scary?”

“Yes,” the whole class responds together.

“Drake is a seizure assistance dog. He can tell when I'm going to have a seizure before I can even tell. You see, there are these chemicals in my body. When they start to change, he knows it and he can warn the class about it. That way, the teacher can get me to a safe place and get everyone else out of the way.”

As the class
oohs
and
ahhs
in response, a hand goes up. It belongs to a girl with wild hair, and she doesn't wait for the teacher to call on her. “How does the dog
know
that?”

Kinsey shrugs. “He's just really smart. It's one of those things that only dogs can sense— people can't even do it.”

“Can we pet him?” is the next question out of her mouth.

Kinsey smiles. “Yes, I think it would be okay just this one time. If it's okay with Mrs. Williams. Usually, I'm the only one who pets him. That probably sounds weird, but it's because of his training. Petting is, like, a reward for him sometimes. But since it's his first day at school, it could be a way to welcome him.”

“Are you sure it's okay, Kinsey?” Mrs. Williams asks.

“Sure,” Kinsey says, and then she bends down in my ear. “Drake, the other kids want to pet you. Is that okay with you?”

I lick her cheek to let her know that it is. She giggles.

“How about one at a time?” Mrs. Williams suggests. “We don't want to overwhelm the dog. If you want to pet Drake, we will take turns starting right up here.” She points at a girl in the front row, who immediately jumps to her feet and bounces over to us.

My heart starts beating really fast. I picture the kids in my dream, surrounding me while my feet are glued to the floor. Just like the dream, they're all coming at me once again. I lift my front paws gently as a test. I'm relieved that there's no glue on them.

One by one, every student in the class takes his or her turn welcoming me to the classroom. All of the kids are so nice to me, petting me gently and talking to me. I sit calmly at Kinsey's side, but my tail wags so hard I think it's going to wag right off of my body.

And the amazing part is, each one talks to Kinsey too. All of her fears of speaking to the other kids are starting to fade away.

My nightmare seems so silly now. Everything Chaucer said the night before has been forgotten. He was all wrong about school—wrong about the teacher and wrong about the students.

After every student has had a turn to pet me, a student in the back of the room raises his hand. “Mrs. Williams, do you think we could make Drake the class mascot?”

“I think that's an excellent idea, Grady,” Mrs. Williams says. “What do you think, Kinsey?”

“Sure,” she agrees, smiling shyly as the class cheers.

When Kinsey takes her seat in the middle of the room, I escort her and lay quietly at her feet, like I am trained to do.

I've got a good feeling about this whole “school” thing.

A
fter a morning filled
with lessons in math and reading, Mrs. Williams announces that it is time for lunch. I am happy to hear this, just to be able to get up and move around a little. Staying curled up at Kinsey's feet for so long makes me need to stand and stretch.

Kinsey stands up and takes my leash in her hand. All at once, we are surrounded by a group of girls.

“Can we sit with you today?” one of them asks. It is the same wild-haired girl who first asked to pet me. My tail wags with excitement.

Kinsey turns around and looks behind us before she answers with a quiet, wide-eyed, “Okay.” I guess she's shocked that the girl is actually talking to her. I remember how many times she's whispered to me at night, telling me how much trouble she has making friends. I bet she's never had anyone ask to sit with her before.

When we form a line at the front of the room, the whole group of girls lets Kinsey and me lead the way. Kinsey keeps glancing back at them, and the small smile on her face just keeps growing bigger.

Our line moves in single file until we get to the cafeteria. Carrying two lunch sacks— one for me and one for herself—Kinsey turns to the wild-haired girl. “Where do you want to sit?”

“Let's go over there,” she says, pointing to the end of a table toward the front. Then, she announces to the group, “I want to sit by Kinsey.”

“I call sitting on her other side!” a girl with long hair and glasses says quickly.

“Can I sit across from you?” a tall girl who smells like flowers asks her.

“Sure,” Kinsey says with a bewildered smile.

When Kinsey sits down at the table, I sit on the ground right next to her. I make myself as tall as I can as I wait for her to place my container of food on the ground.

“Aww, he's so cute!” the long-haired girl says. “Look at how he just sits there, waiting for you to get his food out. He's such a good dog.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Kinsey agrees, rubbing my head a little before she places my container on the floor. If my head swells up any bigger, it may burst.

“So he came all the way from California?” someone asks as I begin to wolf down my food.

“Yep. We got to fly on an airplane to get him and bring him home,” Kinsey replies.

“Did you get to see the beach while you were there?” someone asks.

Before Kinsey can answer, another girl interrupts with, “We went to the beach in Florida last week!”

For the rest of the lunch period, the girls talk nonstop. I learn a few names through their conversations—the wild-haired girl on the left is Morgan, the long-haired girl with glasses on the right is Lynn, and the one who smells like flowers across from Kinsey is Gracie.

Kinsey is the quietest one of the group, but by the end of the lunch period, it's clear that she has made some friends. I can actually
feel
her confidence rising by the minute. All the little nerves in her stomach that jumped around like frogs at the beginning of lunch have settled down.

This day just keeps getting better and better.