Asking for Trouble: 1 (London Confidential) by Sandra Byrd Page B

I’m not—I’d have a Lab or a golden retriever.
    In the car on the way home, Louanne said, “Did you notice that they had junior showmanship?” She wiggled a brochure in front of me.
    “You have to have a dog to compete,” I said drily.
    “I have Giggle.”
    “Exactly my point,” I said, and she elbowed me hard. These little British cars didn’t allow for enough room to avoid pesty sisters.
    “Listen: ‘Junior showmen will develop their handling skills, will learn good sportsmanship, will present their dogs for competition.’”
    I leaned over her shoulder. “You have to be ten years old.”
    “I’ll be ten in two months.”
    “We’ll see,” Mom said.
    Then, in spite of myself, I felt sorry for Louanne. I knew what “we’ll see” meant. It meant, “We’ll see . . . when they locate life on Mars and they come to Earth and give an interview with Good Morning America . Then we’ll talk about it.”
    Couldn’t see how it was going to happen.
    When we got home, Vivienne was putting her dustbins out for Monday morning, even though it was only Saturday night. Mom met her at the foot of the driveway while the rest of us went inside. Mom looked so eager. I knew she was hoping that Vivienne would say something about the cookie exchange. By the look on my mom’s face as she walked up to the front door, Vivienne hadn’t mentioned it. Sooner or later—probably sooner—Mom was going to have to ask her about the invitation and if she was coming.
    When I walked in I noticed, shocked, that Growl was sitting in the corner. That was unlike him after spending hours in his crate.
    “What’s up with him?” I asked Louanne.
    “He’s pouting.”
    “Why?”
    “He must have smelled the other dogs on my clothes,” she said. Then she went into the kitchen, and I heard her rustling around the fridge.
    Growl just looked at me. “Get some pride, kid,” I said. “It was only a dog show.”
    He sighed and turned his head to the wall. Far be it from me to spend some of my few free hours trying to perk up a dog I didn’t like and that didn’t like me.
    Mom came in the door, looking a little tired and maybe even discouraged. But just then Dad raced into the room.
    My dad never raced anywhere, even in a lively church. He was the original tortoise in the tortoise and the hare fable.
    “Guess what?” he said to my mom. “My boss is giving us a weekend away. In Bath. At a health spa—for both of us. Free!”
    “Really?” Mom perked right up. “How? When?”
    Louanne must have heard the commotion, because she joined us in the living room.
    “He and his wife were supposed to go next weekend. They had a bed-and-breakfast all paid for, and then his wife’s mother had to be hospitalized. They’ll be going to Scotland to take care of her. He thought it might be a nice way for me to get a feel for another part of Britain.
    “But,” he said, slowing down to his normal self, “it’s next weekend. Who would stay with the kids?”
    “Oh, we don’t need anyone to stay with us,” I spoke up. “I’m a sophomore. I can take care of everything. Right, Louanne?”
    “Right!” she agreed.
    Both Mom and Dad shook their heads. “No,” Mom said.
    Dad looked up and snapped his fingers. “Hey. I know exactly who we can ask.” He looked at Mom and she grinned. Apparently she knew who he had in mind.
    “Who?” Louanne asked.
    “I’ll tell you after I talk with her,” Mom said.
    I glanced at Louanne, and she looked at me and sighed. We both felt the gloom descend upon us like a dreary London fog. I hoped we were wrong. But there was only one person we knew in England who would fit the bill.

Chapter 36

    After grabbing a jam sandwich, I headed up to my room. I glanced again at the writing prompt for this week’s advice column.
    Dear Advice Columnist,
    I think my best friend is trying to “break up” with me. I call and text her a lot, but she hardly answers. When I see her, she seems nice but distant. What