Movie For Dogs (5 page)

“Bruce! Wait up!”

Bruce turned automatically at the sound of his name and was surprised to see a slender dark-haired girl elbowing her way through the crowd of students behind him. He and the rest of his classmates were headed to the cafeteria for B lunch. The seventh graders ate first, and the ninth graders last, and eighth grade fell into the middle slot. That meant that the girl had to be in the same grade he was, but he didn’t recognize her from any of his classes.

However, because he was naturally polite and because she seemed so determined to talk to him, he stood there like an island in the rushing river of hungry students, waiting for her to catch up with him. When she did, he still didn’t recognize her. He took in that she was pretty, and her expressive brown eyes reminded him a bit of Red Rover’s.

“Are you sure you’ve got the right person?” he asked when she caught up to him. “I’m Bruce Walker. I don’t think we know each other.”

“Of course you don’t recognize me,” the girl said easily, falling into step beside him as he began to move forward toward the lunchroom, where Tim and his other friends were sure to have staked out a table. “You never looked up from your computer except to look at my computer. I’m Kristy Fernald. We met in the editing bay a couple of weeks ago. My video turned out great. Did yours?”

“Mine looks great, too,” Bruce said, relaxing a little now that he knew who she was. “Actually, it’s not just my video. It was a group project. My sister wrote the script, and two of our friends helped with the casting and props. My great-aunt was the principal actor. My part was filming and editing. I submitted the video just in time to make the deadline. Having to get releases signed slowed us down a little.”

“Weren’t those releases the absolute pits?” Kristy said. “I spent two afternoons running all over that retirement home, hunting people down. The bedridden ones were a cinch, but the rest were all over the place — doing water aerobics, playing bridge,
or taking watercolor classes. Most of those people are active, and they run around like gerbils.”

“I don’t understand,” Bruce said. “Why did you need to get releases signed? Didn’t you make your video to introduce people to the idea of group living?”

“Well, sure,” Kristy said. “That was my original reason for making it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use it for other things, too. When you told me about that contest, I started talking about it to a really nice boy in my math class, and he got so interested that he looked it up. The next day he gave me all the information about it and suggested that I enter my video. I thought, ‘Well, why not?’ So I did. There’s nothing to lose. I just wanted to thank you for telling me about the contest. I’d never have known about it otherwise.”

“But that contest was only for people with dogs!” Bruce exclaimed. “The videos were supposed to be based on the most dramatic event in a dog’s life. They weren’t about old people taking basket-weaving classes.”

“I know exactly what the contest was about,” Kristy said, sounding a bit insulted. “I’m not stupid, Bruce! I read the requirements, and my video
meets every one of them. It’s about my dog’s adventures when she visits Glenn Ridge. Lamby — that’s short for Lamb Chop — is a therapy dog. I take her to the assisted living home every Saturday. The residents there just love her. They count the days until the weekend, because they know that’s when Lamby will be visiting.”

“A therapy dog?” Bruce repeated in bewilderment. “Doesn’t therapy have to do with helping people exercise? How can a dog do that?”

“That’s physical therapy,” Kristy said. “That’s what my mom does. It’s very important for people with physical problems, but emotional therapy’s important, too. Lamby cuddles with the patients and gives them kisses and lets them pet her. And she does lots of tricks to entertain them. She’s very talented.”

To Bruce, she sounded like Andi bragging about Bebe.

“Was that what that scene was about, where all those people were laughing?” Bruce asked. “Your dog was performing tricks?”

“Lamby was dancing at Mrs. Dotson’s ninety-ninth birthday party,” Kristy said. “The scene after that — I don’t think you saw that one — showed
her standing on her hind legs, whirling around to the music.” She laughed when she saw the confused expression on Bruce’s face. “I meant,
Lamby
was whirling, not Mrs. Dotson. Mrs. Dotson uses a walker, but she was singing and clapping her hands and wearing a party hat.”

By then they had reached the lunch line, and Bruce was not feeling hungry. The smell of spaghetti surged up from the steaming serving trays, and his stomach started churning. Spaghetti was normally one of his favorite foods, but at that moment he felt the way Andi had felt about her strawberry sundae on the night she’d lost her dream of winning the writing contest.

“Look, Kristy,” he said, “no offense, but I’m going to skip lunch today. I don’t like the smell of that spaghetti. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Kristy’s dog-brown eyes looked surprised and hurt. “I was hoping we could eat together and talk about our projects. I’ve told you all about mine. I want to hear about yours.”

“Some other time,” Bruce said. “I’ve got to go talk to a friend of mine. Be careful of that spaghetti.”

He stepped out of line and hurried to the far side of the room, to the table where he usually ate. Tim
was already there, along with a group of boys they often hung out with. Most of them were almost finished with their lunches.

“Why are you carrying an empty tray?” Tim asked, sliding over on the bench to make room for Bruce to sit down. “I thought spaghetti was your favorite. Is everything all right?”

“Do you see that girl in the jeans and pink shirt?” Bruce asked him. “The one who’s getting the fish sticks?”

“The one you walked in with?” Tim said. “Sure, I see her. She’s cute. When I saw you talking to her, I thought you might be planning to sit with her.”

“That’s Kristy Fernald,” Bruce said. “She’s serious competition. She was in the editing bay at the same time I was, and asked me what I was working on. I was dumb enough to tell her about the contest, and now she’s entered it, too!”

“So, what’s the big deal?” Tim asked. “We’re competing with people from all over the country, even a lot of adults. There’s nobody out there with a story that’s anything like ours. Nobody has Andi’s script or a hero like Red or a villain like your Aunt Alice. We’re going to stand out because our production is unique. Besides, we’ve got an advantage
because we’re kids. Star Burst Studios will get a lot of publicity if they award first place to exceptional young artists like us and not to grown-ups who have a lot of experience.”

“Kristy’s an exceptional young artist, too,” Bruce said. “She’s exactly the same age we are. And what makes her a threat is that her dog’s a therapy dog.”

“What’s that?” Tim asked.

“I never heard of one either,” Bruce admitted. “But from what she said, it’s sort of like a furry psychiatrist. A therapy dog helps people forget their problems. Kristy takes her dog to the Glenn Ridge Assisted Living Facility every weekend and entertains old people. She’s like Mother Teresa, doing good things for humanity. All we did was tell a story about dognapping. She showed real people having fun with her dog at a birthday party. Not just any old birthday, but a ninety-ninth birthday! Her video has a message!”

“So does
Bobby Strikes Back
,” Tim reminded him. “It’s about an old dog who saves other dogs. It will make people realize that old dogs and old people are important. You can’t just shrug them off, because there are things you can learn from them. That makes Andi’s story special.”

“But Kristy’s video is a documentary,” Bruce said. “That will shove it up in the ranks ahead of ours. Everything in it is true, not doctored up like ours is.”

“That’s what she told you,” Tim said skeptically. “But what makes you sure it’s authentic? Maybe she did some faking just the way we did with Red popping through the roof. She could have gone to that old people’s home and filmed some of them having fun at a party and then gone home and inserted some scenes with her dog in them.”

“Lamby,” Bruce said.

Tim stared at him as if he’d gone crazy.

“What the heck is a
lammy
?”

“That’s what she calls her dog,” Bruce said. “Her real name is Lamb Chop.”

“Nobody weird enough to name her dog Lamb Chop can be trusted,” Tim said. “I think Kristy’s conning you. I bet she didn’t film anything.”

“She did,” Bruce said. “I saw her working. She’s a good editor.”

“Okay, so she’s a good editor,” Tim conceded. “That makes her even more suspicious. Does her original footage have a dog in it or did she edit it in
afterward? There’s no way for anyone to know that unless they were at the party.”

“The people in her scenes were laughing at
something
,” Bruce said. “She told me Lamby was dancing.”

“Dancing!”
Tim snorted. “So her dog’s not only a shrink but also a dancer? Does Lamby wear a tutu like my sisters do at their ballet recitals? Or maybe she’s a tap dancer. That would be impressive —
clickety-click-click
with her toenails on the floor. In our film, you were able to make the sound of the roof breaking by snapping a handful of twigs. Kristy could rap on a board and make it sound like tap dancing.”

“I believe her,” Bruce said. He didn’t know why he felt so certain of Kristy’s honesty, but he did. Maybe it was because she had Red Rover’s beautiful eyes. Or maybe it was because she had made the effort to find him and thank him. There had been no reason for her to do that. She could have submitted her video without telling him about it.

“Earth to Bruce!” Tim said. “I know she’s gotten under your skin, but do you see who she’s sitting with?”

“I don’t care who she’s sitting with,” Bruce said. “I hardly even know her. She can sit with anyone she wants.”

“Well, you’d better start caring about who her pals are,” Tim told him. “She’s sitting with Jerry Gordon, and they’re laughing together. They look like they’re very good friends.”

Neither Bruce nor Andi was in the habit of checking voice mail after school. Since all their friends were in school at the same time they were, there was nobody to call them.

Which was why it was not until their mother arrived home in the late afternoon, having been delayed by a parent-teacher conference at the school where she taught, that anyone bothered to listen to the day’s messages. When Mrs. Walker finally did, she was so bewildered by one of them that she listened to it three times before asking Andi, who was seated on the sofa, reading to Bebe, “Do you know where Bruce is?”

“He took Red for a run and brought him back and went out again,” Andi said. “Why? Do you need him for something?”

“There’s a call for him on our voice mail,” Mrs. Walker said. “A Mr. Craig Donovan from Star Burst Studios in California. He wants Bruce to return his call before the end of the day.”

“He must be calling about our video!” Andi cried, leaping up from the sofa so abruptly that both Bebe and the book ended up on the floor. “I’ll go find Bruce right now!”

She did not have to look far. Her brother was in the driveway, shooting hoops.

“The
Dogs in Action
people phoned while we were at school and left a message!” Andi told him. “That has to mean —” She stopped herself from completing the sentence. She had been preparing to shout, “We made the finals!” but then she remembered having made a similar statement when she’d received the envelope from Pet Lovers Press. She didn’t think she could bear to be that disappointed again.

Bruce apparently was remembering that as well, because he was obviously struggling to control his excitement when he asked her, “What did they say?”

“Just for you to call back,” Andi said. “Hurry up! I can’t stand the suspense! It’s like the Pet
Lovers contest all over again, except we know for sure that Jerry didn’t enter!”

Their mother was waiting for them in the entrance hall, looking so flustered that Andi suspected that she had continued to listen, over and over again, to the voice message.

“I can’t believe this!” Mrs. Walker said. “It never occurred to your dad and me to take this little project seriously. We just thought of it as something you were doing to have fun. Mr. Donovan wants you to call his office immediately!”

“But it’s after five!” Bruce said. “Won’t his office be closed?”

“There’s a three-hour time difference between here and the West Coast,” his mother reminded him. “In California it’s midafternoon. I wrote the number down for you.”

She handed Bruce a slip of paper as reverently as if it were a golden ticket from Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.

Bruce’s hand was shaking so hard that he punched the wrong buttons on the phone and had to hang up and start over. When he finally got through, a woman answered, “Star Burst Studios,” in a very official voice.

“This is Bruce Walker,” Bruce said. “I’m returning a call from Mr. Donovan…. Sure, I’ll hold. Of course! For however long it takes!” The silence that followed seemed to go on forever. Then Bruce said, “Hello,” in a voice that was pitched one octave lower than usual. His voice had just started changing, and he wanted to make sure it didn’t squeak.

Andi edged in as close as she could to try to hear the other end of the call. She couldn’t make out the words, just a rumbling voice.

“Yes, this is Mr. Walker,” Bruce said. “Yes, I own the Irish setter who played Bobby.” He paused and then said, “I think so. I mean, I can’t imagine why not. Let me check and make sure.”

He covered the receiver with his hand and turned to his mother.

“Can I skip school for a couple of days next week? It will just be Thursday and Friday. I’m doing great in all my classes, and it’s only a couple of weeks before school’s out anyway. Mr. Donovan wants me to bring Red to Hollywood.”

“He wants
what
?” Mrs. Walker looked as if she might faint.

“He wants Red and me to go to Hollywood,” Bruce repeated. “Our video made the finals, and
Mr. Donovan wants to meet Red and me in person. He says he wants to tape an interview with me and see Red in action.”

“And Bebe?” Andi asked eagerly. “Does he want to see Bebe?”

“Afraid not,” Bruce said. “He just wants the star dog and its owner. He’ll cover all my expenses. Mom, can I go?”

“Give me that phone!” Mrs. Walker snatched the receiver from his hand. “Hello, Mr. Donovan? I’m Linda Walker, Bruce’s mother. It’s very flattering for you to invite our son to come to Hollywood, but do you realize that Bruce is only fourteen?”

There was a long pause while she listened to Mr. Donovan.

Then she said in a calmer voice, “I understand your confusion. Yes, Bruce is mature for his age and his voice did sound like an adult. I haven’t viewed the video yet, but I’m sure it was very well done. Bruce is a fine photographer. Still, as you must understand, we couldn’t possibly allow our underage child to go to Hollywood without a chaperone.”

Another, much shorter pause.

“That’s very kind of you. I’ll discuss it with Bruce’s father and we’ll get back with you…. Yes,
I realize the decision must be made immediately. Thank you for honoring Bruce and his accomplishments. He definitely is a special boy. And I think you should know that his younger sister wrote the script.”

She said good-bye very calmly and replaced the receiver on the hook. Then she drew a deep, shaky breath and collapsed into a chair.

“What’s going on here?”
Mr. Walker demanded.

They all had been so glued to the phone conversation that they had not heard the front door open and close. Now Bruce and Andi turned to see their father standing at the entrance to the family room. He set down his briefcase and hurried over to his wife.

“Linda, what’s wrong? You look as if you’re in shock.”

“I suppose I am,” Mrs. Walker said in a tremulous voice. “The children’s video has made the finals in a national contest. A producer named Craig Donovan wants Bruce to fly to Hollywood. This is surreal! Things like this don’t happen to normal people!”

“Surreal is right,” Mr. Walker said. “No responsible parents would ship their child off to Hollywood
to meet with some stranger. There’s no way to know what kind of man this Donovan is or what his true intentions are.”

“He sounded sincere,” Mrs. Walker said. “He hadn’t been aware of Bruce’s age. When I told him, he immediately offered to cover the expenses of a chaperone.”

“I will be Bruce’s chaperone!” Andi volunteered eagerly. “I will protect him from evil and guard him from temptation! I won’t let Britney Spears get anywhere near him!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” their father said. “He needs an adult chaperone, and neither your mother nor I can get off work. If this opportunity had come after school let out, your mother might have been able to take Bruce to Hollywood. But she can’t leave her students in the final days of the school year.”

“That’s not fair!” Andi cried. “You could make this happen if you wanted to! One of you could quit your job and we could live on welfare until I become a famous writer! This is the best opportunity Bruce will ever have! The two of you are the meanest parents in the world!”

“And you have just placed yourself in the running for being the rudest child in the world,” Mr. Walker told her sternly. “We don’t allow that sort of talk in our family. Go to your room until you’re ready to come down and apologize.”

Tears of frustration were streaming down Andi’s face as she turned on her heel and stomped angrily out of the room.

“You were very hard on her, John,” Mrs. Walker said. “It’s understandable that she’s upset and disappointed.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bruce said. “This was Andi’s dream — second only to getting her book published. Of course she’s mad! It’s not like you didn’t know we were making a video and entering it in a contest. Dad, we even invited you to be in it!”

“We’re happy to have you and Andi work on creative projects together,” Mrs. Walker explained. “It’s just that we didn’t expect an outcome like this. We assumed that, at most, you’d receive a certificate like Andi did with her book project. That sort of recognition is appropriate for children. But this — it’s beyond comprehension! As Dad said,
you can’t go alone to Hollywood, and neither of us is free to go with you.”

“Then the answer is no?” Bruce asked, trying once more. “You won’t change your minds? Even if I promise to phone you every half hour to let you know I’m okay?”

“The answer is
no
,” his father said. “I’m truly sorry, son. But knowing you made it to the finals should make you proud. That, in itself, is a triumph. After dinner, I think we should go out for ice cream.”

“I apologize,”
Andi announced loudly. She had reentered the room while they were talking. “I’d like to go out for ice cream. This time I think I’m going to have a hot-fudge sundae.”

“Apology accepted,” her father said, putting his arm around her and giving her a hug. “We all sometimes say things we don’t mean when we’re disappointed. As your mother pointed out, I should have been more sympathetic to what you were feeling.”

“Aunt Alice says she’ll be happy to chaperone us,” Andi said.

Her parents and Bruce stared at her in stunned amazement.

“What?” Mr. Walker exploded. “When did you talk to Aunt Alice?”

“Just now,” Andi said. “I used the phone in your bedroom. Aunt Alice said she would love to go to Hollywood, as long as she doesn’t have to share a room with a dog. But that’s all right, because Mr. Donovan said he would cover the expenses of a chaperone, so Bruce and Red will have one room, and Aunt Alice and I will have the other.”

“But Mr. Donovan invited only me!” Bruce protested.

“Aunt Alice said that I should go, too,” Andi told him. “She said that’s only fair, since I wrote the story. She’s going to take me as her guest. Isn’t that cool?”

The phone rang.

Mrs. Walker answered it.

“Bruce,” she said, “it’s for you.” She handed him the receiver. “I don’t know who this is, but it’s definitely not Mr. Donovan.”

Bruce said, “Hello?” not bothering to use his deep voice.

“I just got my phone call!” Kristy Fernald said joyfully. “Isn’t it great that we’re both finalists?”

“Your video’s one of the three finalists?” Bruce
shouldn’t have been surprised, but in all the excitement he’d forgotten about Kristy. “How did you know that mine was?”

“I asked, of course,” Kristy said. “Didn’t you ask about me? I’m sure you must have. Mr. Donovan seemed blown away by the fact that we’re both from the same small town.”

“So you’re going to Hollywood next week, too?” Bruce asked her.

“If only!” Kristy said. “But my mom can’t get off work to go with me.”

“What about your dad?” Bruce asked.

“My parents are divorced,” Kristy said. “My dad’s out there somewhere, but we haven’t heard from him in years. Who’s chaperoning you?”

“My dad’s Aunt Alice,” Bruce said.

He could sense what was coming, and what he suspected was correct.

“I know this is asking a lot,” Kristy said, “since your father’s aunt doesn’t even know me. But do you think she might be willing to chaperone me, too?”