Girl's Best Friend by Leslie Margolis Page B

in.
    “But if you didn’t, then who did?” she cried.
    I put my hand on her arm.
    When Ivy glanced at me, I saw so much pain swimming around in her eyes, my own heart felt splintered.
    Splintered but still confused.
    “Um, can you tell me what’s going on? Why you think these guys have Kermit? And how you even know them?”
    “From last Saturday,” Ivy said. “I was playing fetch with Kermit, and instead of retrieving his Frisbee, he fetched their soccer ball.”
    “And they were mad?” I asked.
    She nodded. “They said it was a high-stakes match.”
    “But Kermit’s just a dog. It’s not his fault.”
    “No, they were mad at me,” said Ivy. “For playing so close and for not being able to control my dog. It took, like, almost five minutes to get back their ball.”
    “That’s not so long.”
    “I know, but Kermit punctured it in two places. It was totally flat. And no one had a spare ball, so we ruined their whole game.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
    “I didn’t think it mattered. I figured once they got the money they’d return Kermit. The thing is, they wanted me to pay for the ball on the spot, but I refused.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “I didn’t have any cash on me,” Ivy said, all defensive like it should’ve been obvious. “And that blond guy with braces? He’s the one who finally caught Kermit, and when he did, he wrestled him to the ground and Kermit whimpered and the whole thing was awful. So I got mad and I yelled at him.”
    Ivy twisted up her mouth. A classic stubborn Ivy move. She didn’t have to explain further. I could figure out what had happened on my own. Ivy gave them attitude. Something she does all the time. And those guys didn’t just get mad. They got even. That’s what she thought, anyway.
    Except she was wrong. They didn’t steal Kermit. The soccer players were innocent. I was sure of it.
    But since I was dealing with Ivy, I couldn’t just come out and tell her that she was mistaken.
    “Do you really think they’d kidnap Kermit?” I asked.
    Ivy bit her bottom lip. “You should’ve seen how mad they were.”
    “Still … ”
    “And who else would take him?”
    I looked toward the group of guys. They didn’t seem like the dognapping type. In fact, I thought they were being pretty patient, given the circumstances. I tried to reason with her. “If they were holding Kermit for ransom, they’d have gotten what they wanted by now. More, even. No soccer ball costs a hundred dollars, I don’t think. So they’d have returned him, right?”
    “Then how can you explain what happened to Kermit?”
    “I can’t,” I answered honestly. “But we’ll figure it out.”
    “Really? You think? Because you already screwed up once.”
    “We’ll find Kermit. I know we will. Just give the ball back, okay?”
    After giving it a bit of thought, Ivy said, “Fine.” And she handed over the ball, mumbling, “Sorry.”
    “Let’s head back to the bench. Maybe we can find some clues.”
    Ivy scoffed. “Who are you, Nancy Drew?”
    “Not a very good one,” I said.
    “Obviously,” said Ivy, but she followed me anyway.
    “What are we looking for?” she asked once we arrived back at the bench, which luckily was still empty.
    “Don’t know. Suspicious-looking footprints, perhaps?” I looked down at the surrounding dirt, loosely packed and perfect for capturing footprints. So perfect there were traces of them everywhere.
    “How does a suspicious footprint distinguish itself from a regular old print?” asked Ivy.
    “Um … ” I couldn’t really answer.
    Ivy grew impatient. “Well, there are a gazillion footprints here.”
    I hated to admit it, but she was right. It was beautiful out and everyone was in the park. Which meant there was no way of knowing which footprints belonged to the dognapper. No evidence for us to gather and nothing left to do.
    “Are you sure we can’t go to the police?” I asked.
    “And do what?” said Ivy. “Tell them I