On the last day of school before spring vacation, it sounded like almost every kid in my fourth grade class was getting away from Oregon. They were going places where thesun was shining. Places like Disneyland and SanDiego. Even Hawaii! Just before recess, Ms. Morgan, my most favorite teacher ever, made a huge mistake.“Surely a few of you will stay in town for vacation,and that’s nice, too,” she said. “Who’s stayinghere? Let’s see your hands.”I raised my hand and looked around. I might have known. My hand was the only one. “Anyone else?” Ms. Morgan asked, lookingsorry she’d brought it up. “Anyone besidesKatie?”No one moved.I thunked my forehead down on my desk. Just then, the recess bell rang.My best friend, Sierra, patted my shoulder.“Too bad you raised your hand,” she said.“My Country ’Tis of Thee,” someone sang. Inperfect pitch. Of course, it was Claire Plummer.She’d been PERFECT AT EVERYTHING sincesecond grade. She’d been singing patriotic songsa hundred times a day. She and her dad weregoing to Washington, D.C. for spring vacation.She’d told everyone she expected to meet thePresident.I leaped up and grabbed Sierra’s arm. “Let meout of here.” We rushed across the room, away from Claire and her song. “I’m sick to death of hearing about Washington, D.C.,” I leaned onthe window sill and stared out at a wet school- yard. Cars moved past, their lights on, their wipers going. A lone biker pedaled hunched over,
dressed from head to toe in yellow rain gear.Claire was right behind us. “Our nation’scapital is on the east coast,” she said. “Want tosee it on the globe?”“Sierra’s going to Hawaii,” I said. “Nicer than what you’re doing.”“The worst is what you’re doing,” Claire said.“Staying in rainy old Oregon.”“Excuse us,” I said. Sierra and I pushedpast Claire and went out to the water fountainin the hall.“No wonder nobody likes Claire Plummer,”Sierra said. “Maybe someday, she’ll move to a house that isn’t across the street from you.”“Maybe someday, my dad won’t make me walk to school with her.” I held the lever downand let Sierra drink. “He thinks it’s safer to walkin pairs.” He also thought Claire and I had stuff in common because we didn’t have mothers at home. Claire’s mom had died when we were insecond grade. Mine had already left home by thenbecause she wanted to be a famous Country and Western singer.“I wish you could come with us to Hawaii.”Sierra wiped water from her chin with the cuff of her red blouse. “It would be loads more fun.”“I’ll be stuck here,” I said. “Rusting.”“Mom almost decided not to go,” Sierra said.“We’re so worried about China Cat.”“I thought there was a cat motel,” I said.“There is.” Sierra jammed her hands intoher jumper pockets. “Motel La Paws. They don’t really want her. They said she yowled last year. The whole time.”“Poor China,” I said. “She didn’t know anybody at Motel La Paws. She was lonely.”“Mom told them she doesn’t yowl anymore,”Sierra said. “So they said okay. But we know she’s going to hate it.”I thought about China’s soft fur, mostly yellow, with white streaks. I loved the way shetwitched her ears and tipped her head when youtalked to her. “Wow!” I said. “I’m getting a great idea.”Sierra held up both hands. “No, Katie. Please.No great ideas.”I tugged Sierra down the hall. “We have to usethe phone in the office, right now.”Sierra shook her arm away. “Sometimes, your great ideas turn out bad.”“You’ll like this one,” I said. “You don’t needa cat motel. China can stay at
my
house while you’re gone.” I skipped ahead of Sierra. Maybethis vacation would be fun, after all. “At my house,” I said, “she won’t be lonely. China lovesme. She lets me pat her from her nose to the tipof her tail.”“Hold it.” Sierra skidded to a stop. “You know how to pat her, but you don’t know how to takecare of her.”“I’ve had pets.” I pulled on Sierra’s hand.“Remember my inchworm?”“It dried up,” Sierra said.“Not right away,” I said. “Come on.”She shook her head and followed me intothe office.“Sierra has to call her mother, please,” I toldBetty, the secretary. “It’s about spring break.”Sierra put her hands behind her back“Haven’t we been best friends forever?”I asked. “Since day care?”She nodded slowly.“Every time I come to your house,” I said,“China rubs against me and purrs.”“She does like you,” Sierra said. She pulledthe phone toward her and dialed.By the time she hung up, she was smiling.“Mom thinks you can do it,” she said. “She’s calling your dad to make sure. She said she’d pay you.”“Pay me?”“Five dollars a day. For being a pet sitter.”“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Really? Like a real job?”I danced out of the office and down the hall. “I’llbe a great pet sitter,” I called back to Sierra. “Thisis the beginning of something big.”Sierra ran after me. “Slow down,” she said.“The world is full of lonely animals,” I told her,“especially at vacation time when their peoplego away. I’ll start with cats and move on to dogs.Horses. Canaries. Lions and tigers.”Sierra shook her head. “You are out of control.”“I’m going to be the most wonderfulpet sitter,” I said. “Someday, you’ll see my commercials on TV.” I waved an imaginary signover my head. What would it say?
