Labracadabra

Table of Contents

 

 

Viking
Published by Penguin Group
Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

First published in 2011 by Viking, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group

Text copyright © Jessie Nelson and Karen Leigh Hopkins, 2011 Illustrations copyright © Deborah Melmon, 2011 All rights reserved

 

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Nelson, Jessie.
Labracadabra / by Jessie Nelson & Karen Leigh Hopkins ; illustrated by
Deborah Melmon.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-51383-5

[1. Dogs—Fiction. 2. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction.] I.
Hopkins, Karen Leigh. II. Melmon, Deborah, ill.
III. Title.

 

PZ7.N4339Lab 2011

[E]—dc22 2010025109

 

 

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I
KNOW IT SOUNDS crazy. But really, it happened.

It all began around 11:32 last Tuesday.

My parents told me they had a surprise for me. They said it was something I had wanted for a long time. It wasn't my birthday or anything. And I didn't remember that I'd done anything special to have earned a surprise. Though sometimes my mom says I don't have to do anything special, I just am special. But then when she gets mad at me she'll say, “You may be special, but don't forget everyone is special,” so go figure.

Back to the day.

My neighbor Molly Rose was babysitting. We used to be good friends and hang out in my tree house and play restaurant, but now she's a teenager. All she does is talk on the phone with her boyfriend. Mom says it's just a phase and that she really likes me, but I'm not sure.

My mom said, “Molly can help you clean up your room while we're gone.” It seemed kind of unfair having to clean up while I waited for a surprise, but I didn't want to push it, because that's when my mom's left eyebrow goes up and you know you've gone too far.

The last time my parents said they had a surprise for me, they brought home a canoe and we took my cousin Seymour out on the lake. He threw up. Not to be mean, but I was hoping this new surprise didn't include him.

I searched the house for clues. None. Zip.

I was in the middle of my third peanut butter sandwich when my parents' car pulled up. I looked out the window and saw my mom sitting in the backseat. That was odd.

Then my dad yelled out, “Close your eyes.” Just as I started to close my right eye, I nearly got trampled by something.

A DOG?! I'D ALWAYS WANTED A DOG! For like my entire life! I looked down at the dog, my new best friend. 'Cause that's what they say: “A dog is a man's best friend.” And I didn't have a best friend.

But this dog was kind of big for a small dog and kind of small if you like big dogs, with a very large nose for a dog, and nostrils that were, like, huge. And his tail! His tail was really long and wagged in this really, really annoying way.

“What kind of dog is it?” I asked, trying to hide my disappointment.

“It's a little bit of everything. Part Labrador, part Brittany spaniel, part cadoodle, part dachshund, and maybe a little bit terrier,” my dad said.

Dachshund? Cadoodle? Oh, brother. I had wanted a German shepherd or a golden retriever or a chocolate Lab. Not “a little bit of everything” with big nostrils and a weird tail. Well, maybe he'll grow into those.

“He's full grown, Zach,” my mom said. “He's had a very hard life, so be really nice and welcome him into our home.”

Hard life? I didn't want to feel sorry for my dog. I wanted a dog I could be proud of. A big dog. A tough dog. A smart dog. Not a used dog.

The dog looked up at me, wagging that tail.

I tried to cheer myself up. Maybe it would be a little fun to name it.

“He already has a name,” my mom said. “And I think we should keep that name so he doesn't get confused.”

Okay, what's the point of having a dog if you don't even get a chance to name it?

“What's his name?” I said, preparing myself for the worst.

“Larry.”

“LARRY?!!!!” Larry was the kid who sat behind me in science and built an underwater volcano that exploded all over my desk. “Larry” was not a dog's name. A dog's name was supposed to be “Max” or “Mac” or “Rex.” I would have even taken “Buddy.” But Larry?? I vowed I'd never say it out loud.

I could hear Molly trying not to laugh. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Larry. I started to walk away, but the dog—you notice I'm not saying “Larry”—stopped me with his tail.

“Ooh . . . He wants you to take him for a walk!” Mom said.

“Maybe later,” I said. “I have to go clean my room first.”

I
KNOW IT SOUNDS crazy, but it happened around 10:15 last Thursday.

My dog and I were taking a walk, just down the block, not so far that I couldn't see my house. My mother was on the porch. I could tell from her left eyebrow that she was still mad at me from her having told me to clean my room and me pushing everything under my bed, including the chocolate pudding from when my cousin Seymour was over. It didn't help that my underwear happened to fall in my goldfish bowl. The goldfish lived, which proves that underwear doesn't kill goldfish, but that's another story.

We started walking. My dog's weirdo tail was wagging so much, so fast, that Mom couldn't help laughing. My dog shot me a look. I could tell he was as relieved as I was that my mom's left eyebrow had gone back where it belonged.

Just as I was beginning to feel my own tail wag, there he was.

That kid—the tall one, like taller than all of us, like tree tall—who moved into the neighborhood from Arizona. He had no friends, and Mom said that's why he was so mean and we had to forgive him.