Gabby

The worst part of Gabby’s morning was looking in the mirror. Someone had once told her that sticking your tongue to the roof of your mouth got rid of a double-chin, but she had tried it and it didn’t really work. And a girl could only hold in her stomach for so long. No matter what she did, the mirror and the scale in her mother’s bathroom remained her worst enemies.

She remembered a red-haired boy in second grade who had told her that she had pretty eyes. They were a light blue color, but Gabby thought they had too much grey. Her auburn hair was thick and long, but she didn’t really know what to do with it so most days it was just stuck in a braid. She couldn’t count all the times she had promised herself she was going to eat healthy, but every morning she somehow found herself pouring a bowl of Fruity Pebbles instead of that oat bran fiber stuff her mom always ate, telling herself that this bowl would be the last.

Gabby was an only child; her father was a lawyer, her mother a V.P. of human resources at a huge marketing firm about an hour away, and they would have let her have a dog but her mother was allergic and hated the thought of dog hair on her furniture. Gabby didn’t like the white couches in the living room anyway, but she wasn’t one to make a fuss.

She shuffled her feet and stuffed her cold hands into the pouch of her hoodie as she waited for the bus. Her mother hated that she wore hoodies to school, but in all the clothes her mother tried to make her wear she felt stiff and stuffed. After school she would be going to her first day on the job, working for a dog breeder, and a hoodie would probably be the best thing to wear anyway. Her mother hadn’t been happy about the job, either, but Gabby took it anyway. That hadn’t been easy, going against her mother.

The ominous clouds fit Gabby’s mood and added to her nervous excitement. When the bus pulled up she went to her usual spot on the left side, seven rows from the back, and she didn’t come back to reality until the next stop, when Princessa Montgomery and her posse, all smelling like Lucky No. 6, ascended onto the bus.

Princessa had long blond hair with strawberry highlights and looked to Gabby like she weighed approximately as much as a loaf of Wonder bread without the crust. She always wore designer jeans and Gabby could just imagine the heyday her mother would have had taking someone like Princessa on a shopping spree. Princessa and her gang took up the back row of the bus, and a couple of boys joined them at the next stop. The bus grew louder and louder and Gabby looked out the window at the passing houses and white birch trees. After a couple minutes she felt something small hit the back of her head, and she heard some stifled snickering. She ignored it, reminding herself that she only had six months till she could get her permit. It always took too long for the bus to reach the school.

Third period biology was Gabby’s favorite class, even though it was her one class with Princessa. Gabby was good at it, and she sat next to Dexter, who was shy and left her alone. Their only conversation had been as lab partners but she kind of liked that his glasses made his eyes look green. He had curly dark hair that never seemed combed quite right and once when he had forgotten to bring a pencil she had let him borrow one of hers. She suffered through French and P.E. and finally the last bell rang.

On the bus Gabby checked the note card in her pocket several times to make sure she had the right address. She got off at the right stop and followed the street until she came to a redbrick house with a porch swing and a chain-link fence around the backyard. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell; immediately the house erupted into a chorus of barking. She heard the sound of toenails clicking, scratching, and skidding against a hard floor. She was at the right place.

Gabby heard a woman’s voice: “Back, everybody back. Good girl Cheers…back George…George, I said…George, back!” The door opened slightly and a short woman with brown hair poked her head out, smiled, and said, “You must be Gabby. Come on in.”

Gabby squeezed through the door, trying not to let any of the dogs out. There were five large golden retrievers in the entryway, tongues hanging out in a sort of doggy smile. The one sitting calmly was a slender dog with a very pale coat, almost blond. The others were standing around the woman, forming a sort of entourage, and the darkest one’s back half was wagging violently. The dark one scurried over to Gabby, pressed his face into her stomach and started licking her palm. “George!” said the woman, who came over and pulled him off. Gabby tried to suppress a giggle and stroked the dog’s head.

“Well, thanks for coming,” said the woman. “I’m Deborah Carter. Call me Deb; I’m not old or frumpy enough for Miss Carter just yet.” She shook Gabby’s hand.

“Thank you so much for this job, Miss…Deb. I really…I’m excited.”

“Glad to hear it. And no problem, kiddo, I’m the one that needs the help. Obviously.”

Gabby smiled. She glanced around the house and decided she liked the wood floor, the open space and the spiral staircase at the back of the entryway. It made her own house seem so white.

“Well,” said Deb, “I suppose I should introduce you to everyone, here. This gorgeous blond girl is known in the ring as Miss Cheer’s Down to my Toes, or Cheers for short. Then we’ve got Benny, Jerry, Joon, and this guy here is George. He’s not a show dog; we just keep him around for peace and quiet, obviously.” At his name, George looked up, barked, and increased the wriggle in his rump. Deb smiled, rolled her eyes and patted his head.

“Hi, everyone,” said Gabby.

Deb put her hand on Gabby’s shoulder. “Ok, girlie, let me show you the ropes.”    

When Gabby got home that night she was sweaty, exhausted, and covered in dog drool. She went into the kitchen to grab a snack. Her mom was standing by the sink chopping carrots.

“Hello, Gabby.” Thud went the knife.

“Hey mom.” Gabby opened the freezer and pulled out a Popsicle.

“How was work?”

“Fine.” Gabby shut the freezer and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

"Gabby, why don’t you have a carrot instead?”

Gabby sighed. “I don’t like carrots.”

“I know, but they’re so much better for you.”

Gabby looked down at her feet. She could feel her face getting red and a slight heat behind her eyes.

“Sweetheart,” her mom said, “if you started switching out fruits and veggies for junk food you could start wearing those clothes I showed you at the mall.”

“Mom, those clothes don’t fit.”

“I know, that’s why if you started eating more fruits and veggies…”

“Ok, mom.” Gabby dropped the Popsicle on the counter, took a carrot from the bag and went upstairs to her room. She sat down on her bed and picked at the carrot with her fingernail. She bit off the tip and chewed and chewed until her jaw ached. Then she stood up, opened the window and chucked the carrot into the neighbor’s bushes.