Wanted . . . Mud Blossom by Betsy Byars Page B

Maggie, but all she said was, “Come in, Mud.” Mud went in the house with the rest of the Blossoms.
    Ralphie went home.
    Ralphie was sitting beside the telephone in his kitchen. Ralphie was taking deep breaths. Ralphie had heard of the medical condition called hyperventilation, and he thought he might be suffering from it.
    Ralphie was getting ready to call Maggie.
    It was now four hours since Mud’s murder trial. Ralphie figured that four hours was about the length of time it would take for Maggie to get her senses back.
    She could not possibly hate him. Not him … not her.
    She could be mad enough to claim she hated him. She could be mad enough to think she hated him.
    But it couldn’t last. Maggie might even be sitting at her phone now, just as he was sitting at his, trying to get up the nerve to call and apologize.
    Ralphie wasn’t going to put her through that humiliation.
    He would call and he would come out with one of those brilliant statements he was famous for—like the one about the Bible.
    Ralphie wasn’t sure what this particular brilliant statement would be, but he was confident that as soon as he heard her “hello,” it would come. That was the good thing about having a brilliant mind—it came up with brilliance on its own.
    Ralphie ran his hands through his curly hair, combing through the tangles. Then he wiped his hands on his jeans and reached for the phone.
    Mud was in the kitchen trying to eat. He was having a hard time because Junior wouldn’t leave him alone. Junior was hugging him and kissing him and talking to him.
    Mud kept eating, but it wasn’t easy.
    â€œMud, do you forgive me?” Junior was saying. “I’m sorry. I’m really and truly sorry.”
    Mud rolled his eyes in Junior’s direction as he chewed. He didn’t like to be fooled with while he was eating, but Junior would not be shaken off.
    â€œPlease forgive me, Mud.” Junior raised the flap of Mud’s ear so he could speak directly into the ear itself. “I’m sorry, Mud. Do you forgive me?”
    â€œNaaw,” Vern said from the table. He said it in a dog’s voice.
    Junior threw him a dirty look.
    Mud shook his head to get his ear out of Junior’s hand. The ear came free, but Junior still clung to his neck.
    â€œDo you like me again?”
    â€œNaw.”
    â€œMom, make him stop! Because, Mud, I really, really like you. You’re a good dog. Good, good dog.” Junior smoothed Mud’s long ears back from his face. “I didn’t mean those things I said. You’re a good dog. You wouldn’t eat my Scooty, would you?”
    â€œYaaw,” Vern growled.
    â€œYou better behave, Vern,” Junior snapped. “Or Mom will let me beat you up again, won’t you, Mom?”
    â€œNo, I don’t like all this fighting.” Vicki Blossom sighed. She wasn’t eating in the hope that Rooney would still be able to take her out. “Why doesn’t the phone ring? I—”
    At that moment, as if on cue, the phone did ring.
    â€œI’ll get it,” Vicki Blossom said. She jumped to her feet and crossed her fingers.
    She turned her eyes to the ceiling. “I hope it’s Rooney! Please, please let that horse trial be over. Please, please let it be Rooney. Please, please let me get in my new pants suit and have some fun!”
    Ralphie was holding the phone so tightly his knuckles were turning white.
    Aha! The phone was answered in the middle of the second ring.
    Ralphie smiled tightly to himself.
    Maggie had probably been sitting by the phone, praying for him to call. Then, just when she had given up and started in a dejected way for her room, the phone HAD rung!
    It’s Ralphie! her happy heart had cried, soaring like a kite. It’s a miracle. Ralphie, oh, Ralphie! I’m coming!
    â€œHello!” There was such eagerness, such hope, in her hello that Ralphie’s heart soared too.