Isabelle Shows Her Stuff: The Isabelle Series, Book Two by Constance C. Greene Page A

let a bunch of kids be hanging around. Let them all see me. Please, Lord. I won’t ask for anything else if you’ll just let that happen.
    The Lord must’ve heard. Three boys whizzed by on bikes, then turned to stare as the police car slowed, blue lights flashing.
    â€œWhich house is yours?” the blue-eyed cop said.
    â€œThat one,” Guy pointed. He saw Becca in the front yard. She and a friend were playing fairy princess. Becca had just made a deep curtsey when the car pulled up and came to a stop.
    â€œNot just a little siren?” the policeman asked again. “Just to make ’em sit up and take notice?”
    â€œWell, okay,” Guy said. “But only a little.”
    The cop flicked a switch. The siren sounded very loud to Guy. Becca froze. Her friend clapped her hands over her ears and ran behind the big maple tree. The three boys on bikes stood on the sidewalk across from Guy’s house, waiting.
    First the driver got out. Then the other policeman. Then came Guy.
    Becca’s hand flew toward her mouth. Then she ran to the house, screaming, “It’s Guy! It’s Guy! The policeman brought Guy home!”
    Becca had some loud voice. Guy had never realized how loud it was until now. He smiled, listening to her.
    Across the street the three kids on bikes watched, their mouths hanging open. Up and down the block people came out and stood watching. It wasn’t every day a police car, lights flashing, siren sounding, delivered someone to his front door on Hot Water Street.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Guy’s father came to the door, glasses pushed up on his forehead, newspaper in his hand.
    â€œYour boy got into some trouble, sir,” the blue-eyed policeman said.
    â€œMy boy never gets into trouble,” Guy’s father said firmly. “He’s a good boy. A very good boy. Never caused his mother or me a speck of trouble.”
    â€œHe is a good boy,” the policeman agreed. “And a brave one, too.” Then he told what had happened to Guy. And the dog. By this time Guy’s mother and grandmother were gathered around, listening. Guy’s mother insisted on inspecting his head and then called the doctor to make an appointment to bring Guy to see him. The cut on Guy’s head had stopped bleeding; it wasn’t even very deep.
    â€œLike I said, it’s good your boy has such a fine head of hair,” the policeman said. “Acted as padding when they walloped him.” Then he took out his notebook and wrote down everything Guy could remember about the MONSTER , the one with the gums, and the one with the mouse mustache. That’s the way Guy thought of it, the mouse mustache.
    â€œAll right, that’s everything, then.” The policeman put away his notebook. “We’re going to run the pooch over to the Humane Society, see what they can find.” He tipped his hat to the crowd. “I’ll be in touch.”
    For the first time, Guy’s grandmother spoke.
    â€œWhat will happen to the dog?” she said.
    The cop shrugged. “Hard to say. Dog’s got no license, no identification tags of any kind. Probably a stray. Chances are they’ll put it up for adoption. If no one claims it after a certain length of time, well …” The cop shrugged again.
    Guy’s grandmother, dark eyes gleaming, looked hard at Guy.
    â€œI want that dog,” he heard himself say. “It’s like the dog I wanted all along. I think it’s the one I wanted. It’s a really nice dog. Just the right size. I bet he’d never make a mess or chew things or anything. He’d be a good watchdog too.” Guy looked up at his mother and father.
    â€œWell.” Guy’s father cleared his throat. “I guess that could be arranged. Thank you, officer. We’ll call the Humane Society within the next few days, see how things stand.”
    The policemen tipped their hats.
    â€œGood