Oops, Doggy Dog! Page 7

  I stare down hard at the table, because I can’t believe that Mom is putting on such a Broadway show. How shameless!

  “I’m sorry, let me start again,” Mom says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Our dog, Toto Garibaldi—actually he is more like my son—has always adored our neighbor’s dog, Buffy. But he has been prevented from having any normal social contact with the object of his affection. However, I guess dogs, like humans … well, you know the story of Romeo and Juliet?” Mom asks, turning and staring directly at Judge Fowler.

  “Mrs. Garibaldi, I’m going to have to ask you to refrain from submitting information that is not relevant to the case.” Judge Fowler’s face is frozen like a clay pigeon.

  Ooh, that’s foul. I can’t believe he dissed Mom like that! Now I know how he got his name. Foul … Fowler … Fowlest!

  “Yes, your honor. Pardon me.” Mom puts the tissue back in her purse. “Well, Toto found the opportunity to visit Buffy in the hallway one day, when Mrs. Brubaker was getting some furniture delivered from Africa. My husband was trying to help her, you see. My daughter and I were in Los Angeles at the time, and were unaware of this dalliance.”

  “‘Dalliance’?” Judge Fowler repeats, raising his eyebrows.

  “I mean, the courtship was consummated during their hallway rendezvous,” Mom says, trying to be delicate about it.

  “Do you mean that your dog mated with Mrs. Brubaker’s?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” Mom says, fanning herself in relief that he got the point. “Mrs. Brubaker later brought it to our attention that Buffy was pregnant, and told us she had no intention of giving us any of the puppies.”

  “Is that it?” Judge Fowler says abruptly. “All right. Now the defendant may state her case.”

  I can tell Judge Fowler is in a hurry. I wonder how many cases he has to hear in one day.

  Mrs. Brubaker clears her throat and turns her sourpuss face to Judge Fowler. Ignoring us, she starts in on her sob story. “I have taken great pains to make sure that Buffy is protected in my house. She is a pedigreed bichon frise, with lineage that can be traced back to France. I was hoping to find a suitable male—with similar lineage—to mate with my Buffy, but then Toto got her pregnant without my permission.”

  Mrs. Brubaker stops abruptly, pulls a tissue out of her purse, then bawls like a baby crocodile. Now I’m not sure who is the bigger drama queen, Mrs. Brubaker or my mom. My heart sinks as I realize we’re never gonna win. Mrs. Brubaker is making it sound like Toto attacked Buffy! Judge Fowler is gonna feel sorry for her, not us!

  We all sit quietly, waiting for Mrs. Brubaker to finish. Even the court stenographer has stopped typing on his machine.

  “And I just don’t see why I should have to give them a puppy!” snaps Mrs. Brubaker.

  “How many puppies are in the litter?” Judge Fowler asks.

  “Oh! Well, six—but one of them seems sickly,” Mrs. Brubaker says, fighting back more tears.

  “Thank you,” Judge Fowler says, writing something down, then raising his head again. “That will be all. I will notify both of you of my decision.”

  Mom and I look at each other, not sure if we’re supposed to get up, but Mrs. Brubaker beats us to it. She jumps up like there’s a fire, clutching her purse tightly, and heads for the door.

  I guess Mom can tell by the expression on my face that I’m disappointed. She reaches over and gives me a hug.

  “We’re not gonna win,” I moan. “You’re not gonna be a grandmother … yet.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Mom says, seething. “She won’t get away with this. Not if there’s any justice in this world.”

  I bite my tongue hard. I want to say that there isn’t any justice in this world. If there was, we’d have half the puppies, the Cheetah Girls would have a record deal, and Eddie Lizard would call me on the phone!

  But for once, I let Mom have the last word.

  Chapter

  9

  Usually, I’m excited about going to Drinka Champagne’s Conservatory on Saturdays, but today, I’d rather slink back under my cheetah sheets and hide all day. I drag my behind getting dressed, praying under my breath that a cheetah fairy is gonna come any minute and solve my problems by: 1) Making Eddie Lizard grovel at my feet so I don’t have to throw a fit when I see him, or 2) Making Aqua grovel at my feet so we can squash our beef jerky.

  I call Chuchie on my Miss Wiggy cell phone, to make sure she would wait for me in Drinka’s lobby. That way, I won’t have to deal with this situation by myself.

  “Why can’t I just meet you upstairs in the studio, mija?” Chuchie asks, puzzled.

  I’ve been trying not spell out the drama, but I guess I have to, since Chuchie is acting like a dog with a bone who just won’t leave it alone.

  “You know Eddie Lizard hasn’t called me all week!” I snap.

  “Maybe he had to go with his father to unhex somebody. You know, like an emergency, está bien?”

  “Yeah, well, when I get hold of him, he’s gonna need some unhexing himself!” I say, then get embarrassed, because my real feelings are showing through.

  “You really like him, mija!” Chuchie says, poking fun at me.

  “No! I don’t,” I stammer, lying. “Oh, just meet me in the lobby, Chuchie, will you? Stop asking so many stupid questions!”

  Chuchie is wearing lots of little hair clamps all over her head, which makes her look like a Christmas tree without the bulbs. “You think you have enough clips in your hair?” I ask when I see her waiting for me in Drinka’s lobby. Leave it to Chuchie to overdo everything. “At least you’re not wearing that masquerade makeup.”

  “What happened?” Chuchie says, embarrassed. “You don’t like my hair?

  “No, it looks cute, but you could have left some of the clamps for a rainy day.”

  “Did you get the puppy?” she asks, her eyes widening like Ring Dings.

  “Oh—I forgot. I gotta find out what next business day means,” I say as we get in the elevator.

  “What happened?”

  “Never mind,” I mutter, my heart pounding hard. God, I hope Chuchie is right that Eddie Lizard isn’t here, and is off somewhere on a witchcraft expedition with his father.

  “Hey, Cheetah Girls!” Winnie, the receptionist, greets us warmly as we approach her desk.

  “Hi, Winnie. Um, do you know what ‘next business day’ means?”

  “Well, let’s see, today is Saturday, so the next business day would be Monday.”

  My heart sinks. “Oh, I see. Well, Chuchie, I guess we have to wait until Monday to find out Judge Fowler’s ruling on the Buffy situation.” I can’t believe I have to wait that long! I’ve been waiting for days and days already!

  Winnie smiles at me, then pushes the attendance sheet across the desk for us to sign.

  “You won’t know until Monday, mija?” Chuchie asks.

  I scan the list quickly—yikes, there it is! Eddie Lizard’s sprawling signature. My heart sinks right down to my purple pedicure.

  “I can’t believe this!” I say, nudging Chuchie as we walk to the waiting area outside Studio One. Aqua, Angie, and Dorinda are already waiting there for us.

  “Hey, Cheetah Girls,” shouts out Danitra, this pink-haired singer. Her group used to be called Think Pink, until she found out there was another group with the same name. So now her group is temporarily nameless, and it seems like Danitra’s always trying out new names on everyone she sees.

  “What do you think of Stinky Pink?” she asks, eager for my response. But I barely hear her. I’m too busy gaspitating at the sight of Eddie Lizard, who has just walked up behind her.

  “You don’t like it?” Danitra asks, reading the expression on my face wrong.

  “No, it’s not that,” I stammer, trying to focus on Danitra instead of on my buckling legs, which feel like they’re gonna give out any second.

  Chuchie hangs on to my arm because she knows that I’m losing it. Obviously, Eddie hasn’t been ou
t of town at all. He’s just been avoiding me. I can’t believe he has the nerve to show his face here. How could he play me like this?

  “I think Stinky Pink sounds smelly,” Chuchie blurts out.

  “We almost bought pink wigs to wear for our studio session with Mouse Almighty,” Dorinda the peacemaker chimes in.

  Danitra’s face turns crimson, and her eyes look like they’re shooting darts. “What do you mean?”

  Aqua and Angie look straight at me, like, “See, we told you it wasn’t a good idea!”

  “What’s wrong?” Chuchie stammers. “We just thought it would be fun.”

  Oh, I get Danitra’s drift—she thinks we were trying to bite her flavor! “You know pink hair is my group’s signature,” she says. “How would you like it if we started wearing cheetah clothes, huh?”

  “We didn’t buy the wigs,” I point out, avoiding Aqua’s stare. I guess she was right about the wig situation, in more ways than one.

  “Hey, Galleria,” Eddie Lizard says, like a lizard squirming out of quicksand, living up to his namesake. Obviously, he’s totally oblivious to the beef jerky surrounding him.

  “Oh, hi,” I say, feeling my cheeks burning like barbecue coals, and praying he doesn’t notice how red they are.

  Well, two can play the same game. I proceed to ignore Eddie Lizard, and keep talking to Danitra instead. “We’re not trying to bite your flavor, Danitra, okay?”

  Danitra throws more pink shade at me, but I pretend I don’t notice—even though I want to read her from head to toe. I mean, who does she think she is? The Supremes making a comeback? Pleez! At least the Cheetah Girls are recording a demo tape. What is her group doing, besides thinking or stinking pink?

  Then I notice that Aqua is staring at Eddie Lizard like a gooney bird. I get a sudden attack of the green-eyed monster. She’d better not try to talk to him—not now. Not after what he did to me! I throw Aqua a look that the Wicked Witch of the West would have been proud of, but the Southern belle doesn’t even flinch. Aqua just keeps staring at Eddie, and then, believe it or not, actually starts talking to him!

  I scurry inside Studio One, just to get away from them. Chanel follows me like a puppy dog.

  “Hey, Galleria, wait up!” Dorinda says, trying to catch up with us. “You awright?”

  “Yeah, I’m cooler than a fan,” I sniff. I’m not gonna let Eddie Lizard wreck my flow.

  Drinka Champagne comes into the studio and says hi to all of us. She is wearing a hot-pink jumpsuit today, with a matching shawl. “That’s right, y’all, I’m thinking pink,” she says, laughing at Danitra, who blushes. What a coinky-dinky! I guess Danitra isn’t gonna accuse Drinka Champagne, the great disco queen, of biting her flavor!

  Danitra cuts her eyes at me and smiles. I guess she wants to squash our beef jerky, which is more than I can say for Aqua, who stands next to Eddie during the entire vocal lesson! I can’t believe she is tripping like this. I sneak a peek at Eddie from behind, and notice that he is wearing the same snakeskin pants and jacket he had on last week. I wonder if he has any other outfits to floss.

  After class, even Danitra goes over to Eddie and starts giggling, batting her eyelashes, and running her fingers through her short pink hair. I feel my heart pounding like a jackhammer. Does every girl in the whole class like Eddie Lizard?

  All during class, I tried so hard not to look at Eddie Lizard that now my head is pounding. “You got any aspirin?” I ask Dorinda, because she carries everything but the kitchen sink in her cheetah backpack.

  “Yup,” she says, looking at me concerned. “Hey, what happened with the Buffy lady?”

  “Oh, we’ve gotta wait until Monday to see what the judge ruled,” I explain. “You shoulda seen the performance Mrs. Brubaker put on in the courtroom—she deserved to win an Oscar Mayer wiener!”

  “Word?” Dorinda chuckles. “So, do you think you won the case?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t say that, Bubbles!” Chuchie butts in. “You never know.”

  Involuntarily, my eyes dart over to Eddie Lizard, who is standing by the elevator talking to Aqua and Angie. Drinka Champagne walks over to them, and I can’t help eavesdropping on the conversation. “So how is your father?” Drinka asks Eddie. “Back in the day, we made quite a couple, you know,” she giggles to Aqua.

  Is Drinka saying that she dated Eddie’s father? I can’t believe it! Eddie didn’t tell me that. Now I’m starting to feel dizzy, nauseous, and kaflooied. Chuchie starts for the elevator, but I grab her arm and whisper, “Wait till they leave.”

  “What happened?” Chuchie asks, like a dodo bird. She frees her arm from my grip and keeps walking toward the elevator, but I refuse to budge. I’m not getting in that elevator with Eddie Lizard and Aqua.

  Dorinda, at least, peeps the situation, and waits with me. “Maybe we could think of something else to add flava to our look,” she offers.

  “Yeah, maybe, Do’,” I say absentmindedly, because I’m still trying to eavesdrop on the chatter before they all pile in to the elevator. “I’m not even sweating that anymore.”

  “I could think of something, if you want me to,” she says, shrugging her Munchkin-tiny shoulders.

  “I can’t believe Eddie Lizard had the nerve to show up today!” I blurt out, totally cutting off Dorinda’s flow.

  “I heard that,” Dorinda says, nodding her head.

  I stand like a statue, staring at the poster of Drinka Champagne in the hallway. It’s a blown-up photo from her legendary Sippin’ and Tippin’ world tour. In it, Drinka is wearing a metal chain outfit, and is being held up by six muscled men who are naked except for their suede loincloths. “Can you believe Drinka went out with Doktor Lizard?”

  “Word?” Dorinda asks in disbelief—or maybe she’s in awe of my divette detective skills. We stand there uncomfortably for a few more minutes, until Winnie the receptionist starts looking at us. “Everything okay, girls?” she asks, concerned.

  “Yes, Ms. Winnie,” I respond, then turn to Do’ Re Mi and say, “It’s time to jet.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to him?” she asks me once we get in the elevator.

  “No way, Jose. This is not an MP—it’s an HP—his problem, you know what I’m saying? Come on, let’s go to Micky D’s.”

  “You sure?” Dorinda asks.

  “Absolutely. No way am I in the mood for any drama from the Huggy Bear twins.”

  But when we get downstairs, Eddie Lizard is waiting with Chuchie. I feel a sting in my chest. Aqua and Angie didn’t even wait for us. They are definitely not trying to squash our beef jerky. I look at Chuchie, but she just smiles nervously.

  “Galleria, can I talk to you for a sec?” Eddie asks quietly.

  I want to scream, “No!” but I hear a tiny voice inside me say, “Okay.” So while Dorinda walks ahead with Chuchie, I just stand there, waiting to hear whatever comes out of Eddie Lizard’s mouth.

  “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t call you this week, but, um, things got a little hectic,” he starts in, smiling at me and fluttering his long, pretty eyelashes. “My bad.”

  He’s got that right. What a weaselly explanation. As much as I want to hit the slimy Lizard over the head with my cheetah backpack, I know I can’t. Suddenly, I feel tears welling up in my eyes. “Oh, quench the noise!” I blurt out.

  Eddie looks at me, shocked. “You’re upset?”

  I glare at him, then blurt out, “Thomas Edison definitely didn’t invent your lightbulb, ’cuz it’s too dim!”

  “Okay, well, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You know, we come from different worlds, you and me.”

  I stare back at him, like, “What brought on this Star Trek moment?”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me—about us,” he stammers.

  “You mean, besides the fact that your father is a witch doctor?” I ask sarcastically. “What else could there be?”

  “He’s three hundred years old,”
Eddie says.

  My jaw drops, and for a second, I’m totally speechless. “So?” I finally say. “How old are you? One hundred?”

  “Uh, no,” Eddie chuckles. “See, there’s stuff like that you don’t know.”

  “And I don’t care, either.”

  “Well, anyway, I wanted to tell you. So I guess I’ll see you around?”

  “Yeah, see ya ’round like a doughnut,” I say, smirking and fighting back tears. I run off to catch up with my crew before I burst out crying. That stupid Eddie Lizard! I hope he crawls back into whatever snake pit he came from!

  Chapter

  10

  The next morning, I’m awakened by the rub of a leg other than my own. I let out a shriek. Then I realize that it’s Chuchie’s leg, sprawled all the way over on my side of the bed. Thank goose-ness Chuchie and Dorinda spent the night with me, I think as I flop my head back down on my pillow.

  There is no sense in getting up now, because it’s Sunday, and I’m feeling really depressed. Then I remember that Dorinda is sleeping on the couch, so it would be rude to let her stay out there with just my mom and dad, who are banging around in the kitchen already. “Move, Miss Cuchifrita,” I moan, disentangling myself from her wayward limb.

  “Is Dorinda here?” Chuchie says, popping her head off the pillow, looking goofy because her eyes are only half open.

  “She’s on the couch, slouch. Now get up!”

  Daddy has made us a true continental Bolognese breakfast. I think it’s his own personal version, because I don’t remember seeing anyone in Italy eating this much in the morning. “I’m so proud of you, cara,” he says, “for stopping to chew that terrible gum—and you, too, Chanel!”

  “Thank you for making us breakfast,” Chuchie coos, slurping up the syrup on her tutti-frutti waffles, made from Dad’s homemade recipe. They’re made from buckwheat flour blended with heavy cream and chunks of strawberries, blueberries, and bananas—yum!

  “This is really good,” Dorinda says, finally looking up from her plate after inhaling the food like a vacuum.