"Hello, girls," she said, smiling, but she didn't move aside to let us in. "Miranda, I know you, from school. Your friend... you're the little girl who swears! Tatum, isn't it?"

"No, I'm Juliette," I corrected. "Can we–"

---

 

16. The Original Macho Man
 

Miranda rubbed her nose to help her think. "Maybe if we get close to Robert's front door, I can hold the dog and you can go inside. Then I'll let go and come in."

"He might run into the house after me," I countered. "How about if you go in first, and get ready to slam the door shut. Then, I slip inside, still holding the dog–"

Miranda got it, and finished my sentence: "— and when you say GO, you push Carl away, pull your arm inside, and I slam the door! Right?"

"Right," I agreed.

"It's a good plan," Miranda said, nodding.

The three of us (counting Carl) made our way out of the park, through the gate, and followed the park fence to Robert's front door.

Miranda rang the doorbell, and as we waited, I marvelled at Carl's calmness. As long as I held his collar, he was the best dog on earth.

The door was opened by Mrs. Murdoch, Robert's mother. I'd seen her a couple of times already: at the pizzeria and at church... She was a short, heavy-set woman, wearing a peasant skirt and a plain black top.

"Hello, girls," she said, smiling, but she didn't move aside to let us in. "Miranda, I know you, from school. And your friend... you're the little girl who swears! Tatum, isn't it?"

"No, I'm Juliette," I corrected. "Can we–"

"I'm sorry, hon, but you can't bring your dog inside. You really shouldn't have brought him."

"He isn't my dog," I protested.

Her eyes twinkled. "Then you really shouldn't have brought him."

"He keeps trying to jump on me! He's behaves while I hold him, but the minute I let go, he's all over me."

"Honey, why don't you lead him into the park? You can put him through the gate and close him inside. Come on, I'll help you."

She stepped out of the doorway and walked with us along the fence, toward the gate. She was a heavy woman with short legs, and she didn't move very quickly. I didn't mind, though. I wasn't in a hurry. I just wanted to get rid of the dog.

"Aren't you going to close your door?" I asked.

"I don't have the key with me," she explained. "Besides, we'll be right here. It'll only take a minute. We'll get you free and pop back inside." When we reached the park gate, she opened it and had me guide Carl inside. Then, as I held his collar with my right hand, she told me to reach through the gate with my left and grip the collar.

"Now let go with your right," she instructed. "See? He's inside, you're outside! All we have to do is close the gate!" And so saying, she pulled it shut and slid the bolt.

"Now, you just let go. See?"

I let go, and... problem solved! Carl was now inside the park while I was outside, with a nice solid fence between us. I doubted he could jump over it.

Mrs. Murdoch rubbed her hands and said, "Ladies, I think we have a party to go to!" With that, she started toward her door. She wasn't moving any faster than she had before.

Carl, on the other hand, sized up the situation in a moment, and bounded across the little park to a second gate, which was open.

"Uh oh," Miranda observed.

"We better get a move on!" I urged.

"This is my top speed," Robert's mother said as she shuffled along. "Don't worry, we'll make it."

But we didn't make it. Out of politeness and lack of a better idea, Miranda and I kept the agonizingly slow pace set by Mrs. Murdoch. We were only halfway to the door when Carl came loping past us — ignoring me for once — and dashed inside the Murdoch's house.

"Hoo, boy!" I gasped, and very nearly shouted at Robert's mother to hurry up. I had to fight with myself to not run ahead.

Mrs. Murdoch did go up a gear, though, and moved a wee bit faster, but not much. It was like the difference between cold molasses and warm molasses. She waved her arm, and said, "You go on ahead, girls. See what you can do. Get Robert, he's good with dogs!"

In the next moment, pandemonium broke loose inside the house. We heard screams and shouts punctuated by bangs and crashes. Miranda and I took off like twin rockets. I got there first, and didn't notice that Miranda, without thinking, pushed the door shut behind her.

We came through an entryway into a big living room, but no one was there. One set of stairs led up and another set led down. All the noise came from below, so the two of us dove down the stairs.

The narrow steps led to something like a family room, with a tiny kitchen at one end. The other end had french doors that opened onto a deep backyard. The dog was out there, chasing a screaming boy.

"Carl!" I shouted, without thinking. "Heel!"

At the sound of my voice, his head jerked around. Once he saw me, he came running. At the speed he was coming, there was no way I could catch his collar and remain standing, so I took off behind the counter that separated the kitchenette from the rest of the room. As quick as I could, I jumped onto the counter, gathered my skirt to me, and rested my feet in the sink.

Carl, slowed a bit by the turns, came scrabbling into the kitchen. After slipping and sliding on the smooth floor, he got up on back legs and planted his paws on the edge of the sink. The moment he did, I grabbed his collar, and he stopped moving, except for his tongue, which hung from his mouth as he panted.

"Carl, you are a bad, bad dog," I informed him, but I could see he paid no attention. He seemed perfectly happy, lacking nothing, as long as I gripped his collar.

From the corner of my eye I saw a small, pudgy figure push past Miranda and walk toward me. It was Robert. He was dressed in biker's leathers, and wore a leather cap. He was clearly aiming for a Hell's Angels look, but ended up looking like one of the Village People.

"I'm sorry, Robert," I told him, "but this dog won't leave me alone."

"Can you blame him?" he replied as he swaggered over. "You're a total babe!"

"Oh, brother!" I sighed.

He reached for the tag on Carl's collar, and after studying it for a moment, picked up a phone.

"Hello? Mr. Raleigh? My name's Robert Murdoch. Could you come pick up your dog? Yes, he's in my house, wrecking my birthday party... No, this isn't a joke... No, I didn't... No... No..."

As Robert patiently denied whatever Mr. Raleigh was accusing him of, the doorbell was ringing nonstop. Miranda, after exclaiming Oh! ran off to let Mrs. Murdoch back inside the house.

About a minute later, Robert said into the phone, "Oh, hi, Mom! ... Okay, bye!"

"What happened?" I asked, as he hung up the phone.

He replied, "Nothin' to worry your pretty head about, babe. My mother got on the line. She'll straighten out that Raleigh character."

"Maybe I should take the dog outside."

He shrugged, then ran his eye slowly over me, from my toes to my head.

Then, after nodding a few times, he said, "Nice outfit."

"Thanks," I said, "You, too." (I lied.)

"Yeah," he said, widening his stance and spreading his arms as if he were a peacock showing all his finery. "This is how I roll. The original macho man."

"Okay, sure," I said in a noncommittal voice.

"How about I give you a lift down from there?" he asked.

"I don't think you could, Robert."

"Yeah, well, you ought to come down anyway. My Mom will flip out if she sees you with your feet in the sink."

I'd forgotten how I was sitting! I lifted my feet to look, and there was a tiny bit of sand in the sink. Hardly anything. Still, I swung my legs over the side of the counter, and ran a bit of water to wash the sand down the drain.

All this time I'd been holding Carl's collar with one hand. I looked down, figuring I could probably jump to the floor without letting go of the dog.

Robert held out his arms to me. "Jump," he said.

"Um, you know what would really help? If you hold the dog's collar while I jump down."

Robert willingly took hold of the dog, and backed up a bit to give me room. I slid off the counter and felt a little breeze behind me.

"Something wrong?" Robert asked.

"I think I caught my dress on something."

"Let me help you," he said. "Don't worry, I'll be the perfect gentleman."

"Where do you get all these cornball lines, Robert?" I asked.

"Old movies, baby, old movies. I'm going with the sure thing: tried and tested smoothness." He reached behind me. "Yeah, you're hooked on a drawer handle." I felt my skirt fluttering into place behind me. "There you go. All better?"

I was in kind of awkward position. We were standing at the far end of the kitchenette, so there was a counter behind and a counter to the left of me. Carl was to my right, and Robert stood in front of me. He was holding Carl with one hand, and his other hand was behind me, resting on the counter. I couldn't really move or get away, so I opened my mouth to thank him and to ask him to back off a bit, when he moved in and planted his lips on mine. I pulled my head back as far as I could — which wasn't very far — but he followed, lips following lips.

By the way, he was NOT a good kisser. Not at all. His lips were puckered up all tight and dry, and he was actually sucking — in fact when he finally did break off from my lips, there was a loud SWACK! But that didn't happen yet.

Pulling a deep breath of air through my nostrils, I planted my hands on his chest to push him off me. Unfortunately, I didn't have any leverage, because I was leaning back and he was leaning into me.

At the same time, I became aware of our audience: a roomful of ten-year-olds, all eyes, who let out a unanimous and rising oooOOOH!

I couldn't get away! I couldn't push him off, I couldn't move my arms to hit him, and I couldn't move my legs to kick him.

Finally, I heard his mother's voice scolding, "Robert! Get offa that girl! Right NOW!"

He backed away, smiling, and said, "How'd ya like that, kiddo?"

With eyes afire, I was about to reply with a smack up the side of his head, but his mother spoke first. "Robert, take that dog and put him outside the front door!"

He led the dog off with a self-satisfied swagger. After he disappeared up the stairs, his mother smiled at me and said, "Don't wipe your mouth with your sleeve. Take one of those napkins."

Miranda's eyes were big as saucers.

---

The rest of the party was pretty tame compared to the beginning. We played Pass The Pumpkin, where we sat in the circle, handing a small pumpkin to the person on our left. The idea was not be stuck with the pumpkin when the music stopped. Mrs. Murdoch didn't let Robert sit near me.

We also broke into groups of four and made scarecrows, which was a lot of fun. I ended up in a group with Jackie Como (whose mother had scolded me about the leash law), a girl named Laura, and a boy named Matt. They were nice, and pretty clever about putting together the scarecrow. They also worked very well together, and when I commented on it, Jackie told me, "We're the only table of three," as if that explained something. I had no idea what she was talking about.

In any case, I thought our scarecrow was best, but Miranda's group had the funniest one.

There was a balloon-sandwich race, and Miranda and I were partners. We had to stand back to back with a helium balloon between us. Then all the pairs of balloon holders had to run sideways to the end of the backyard and back without losing the balloon. Miranda and I worked out a strategy of keeping our heads touching, and we were the only ones who didn't have to stop and catch the balloon. Jackie and Laura made it to the end of the yard, but Robert bumped into them and made them lose their balloon.

The last game was a lot more interesting than it sounds. A friend of Mrs. Murdoch took one child at a time, had them sit in profile, and drew their silhouette. Then she showed us the silhouettes one at a time and we had to guess whose profile it was.

The party was a lot of fun; a lot more fun than I expected. One thing I didn't expect at all was that I met every girl at the party. Every single one. I mean, I had some conversation with each one. It almost seemed like they took turns, in ones, twos, or threes, to come over and chat about who I was, where I lived, who they were, who was friends with whom, and what an idiot Robert was for kissing me... and yuck! by the way.

None of them thought I was Robert's girlfriend, which was a great relief.

Almost everyone at the party was from Miranda's fifth-grade class, and nearly the whole class was there.

"You have a nice class," I told Miranda as we walked home.

"Yes, I like pretty much everybody," she said, as she looked down and kicked a pebble, "but I don't want to talk about that..."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Can't you guess?" she guffawed.

"Oh, no!"

"Oh, yes! You and Robert!" She broke off into gales of laughter, and sang K-I-S-S-I-N-G. "So tell me... is he a good kisser?"

"No, he most definitely is NOT!" I told her.

"Ooh," she said. She was silent for a few paces, then quietly asked, "Am I?"

"You?" I was taken by surprise, and honestly I'd had forgotten our kiss in that moment. "Yes, you're a good kisser. A very good kisser."

"For real?"

"Yes, you are," I assured her. "I really liked kissing you."

"Oh, good," she said, smiling. "It would be embarrassing not to be..."

"You don't have to worry about it," I told her. "You're a natural."

She blushed and was quiet for a few moments. Then, to break the silence, she said, "Wasn't that crazy, about that dog?"

"Do you mean Carl, or Robert?" I asked, and the two of us cracked up, giggling like mad.

An older fellow passed us, walking his dog, and commented, "The Laughing Princesses," which set us off again.

---

When we got back to Miranda's house, her father was sitting on the steps outside, smoking a cigarette.

"Da-ad!" Miranda scolded in a shocked tone.

"Oops! Sorry, Miranda, it's only one. A friend of mine gave it to me, and uh... I was tempted. He led me astray." He took a last draw off it, and with a flick of his forefinger sent the butt flying in a high arc. It landed in the gutter. "No more!" he announced.

"Who was your friend?" she demanded.

"Oh, someone you don't know," he replied.

"Uh-huh," she said in a suspicious tone, as she crossed her arms.

"Okay," her father said, "his name is Philippe Oustermaan... O'Reilly-Davis. Happy now?"

I burst out in a giggle. Miranda shot me a look, then burst out laughing herself.

"Dad, you just made that name up!"

"No, no, I didn't," he protested, smiling. "Let me show you his business card..." He patted his pockets, and pretended to look for it. "I have it here somewhere..."

"Dad," Miranda said between giggles, "You don't have his business card."

"Sure I do," he retorted. "It's in one of my pockets. It's really long... I can't believe I'm having trouble finding it."

"Philippe Ouster..." I began.

"Philippe Oustermaan O'Reilly-Davis," he said. "He's my oldest and best friend. But no more! Him and his damned cigarettes! You'll never see him in our house ever again!"

"Oh, Dad... Smoking is bad for your health!" she told him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Nothing!" he told her, smiling. "I'm reformed! So this is Juliette? Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," I said. "Is Mrs. Jameson feeling better?"

"No," he said. "She is out for the count. I'm afraid we won't see her before tomorrow. Have you girls eaten? Are you hungry?"
 

In spite of all the candy and junk food we'd eaten, we were both quite hungry.

So Mr. Jameson took us to a little neighborhood place, where the three of us sat at a round table on the sidewalk, eating really good pizza. It tasted more like good nutritional food than just regular pizza, and it had a very thin crust.

Miranda and I were still in costume. Everyone we passed had something nice to say to us.

All in all, even considering the dog and the kiss, it was a very good day.

© 2008 by Kaleigh Way