Key Of Valor by Nora Roberts Page B

always have to do homework? How come I can’t take Moe outside and fool around?”
    â€œBecause I want you to do it now. Because that’s your job. Because I said so.”
    They sent each other mutual looks of heat and annoyance. “It’s not fair.”
    â€œBulletin for Simon: Life isn’t always fair. Now get the rest of that done, or you’ll lose your hour TV-and-videoprivilege tonight. And stop kicking that chair,” she snapped.
    She hauled out her cutting board and began chopping vegetables for the salad. “You keep making those faces at my back,” she said, coolly now, “and you’ll lose those privileges for the whole week.”
    He didn’t know how she knew what he was doing behind her, but she always did. In a small rebellion, he took three times as long to solve the next problem as he needed.
    Homework sucked . He glanced up quickly just in case his mother could hear what he was thinking. But she kept on cutting junk for the stupid salad.
    He didn’t mind school. Sometimes he even liked it. But he didn’t see why it had to follow him home every single night. He thought about kicking the chair again, just to test her. But Moe bounced into the room and distracted him.
    â€œHey, Moe. Hey, boy, whatcha got there?”
    Zoe looked around, and dropped the knife. “Oh, my God.”
    Moe stood, tail thumping, whole body wagging, and what was left of a roll of toilet paper clamped in his teeth.
    When she leaped toward him, it was a signal in Moe’s mind for the game to begin. He charged left, zipped around the table, then bolted back through the kitchen doorway.
    â€œStop! Damn it. Simon, help me get that dog.”
    He’d already done his work. Shredded bits of paper, streams of mangled paper, were sprinkled and spread all over her floors like snow. She chased him into the living room while he growled playfully around the crushed tube. Giggling in delight, Simon streaked past her and dived.
    Boy and dog rolled over the rug.
    â€œSimon, it’s not a game.” She waded in, managed to get a hand on the wet roll. But the harder she tugged, the brighter Moe’s eyes became.
    He bore down, with happy snarls.
    â€œHe thinks it is. He thinks you’re playing tug. He really likes to tug.”
    Exasperated, she looked at her son. He was kneeling beside the dog now, one arm thrown over Moe’s back. Some of the shredded paper had attached itself to Simon’s clean pants, Moe’s fur.
    Both of them were grinning at her.
    â€œI’m not playing.” But the words choked out over a laugh. “I’m not ! You’re a bad dog.” She tapped a finger on his nose. “A very bad dog.”
    He plopped on his butt, lifted a paw to shake, then spat the roll onto the floor at her feet.
    â€œHe wants you to throw it so he can fetch.”
    â€œOh, yeah, that’s going to happen.” She snatched the roll up, put it behind her back. “Simon, go get the vacuum cleaner. Moe and I are going to have a little chat.”
    â€œShe’s not really mad,” he said in Moe’s ear. “Her eyes get sorta dark and scary when she’s really mad.”
    He bounded up. Moving fast, Zoe grabbed Moe’s collar before he could follow. “Oh, no, you don’t. Look at the mess you made. What do you have to say for yourself?”
    He collapsed and rolled over to expose his belly.
    â€œThe only way that’s going to work on me is if you know how to run a vacuum cleaner.”
    She let out a little sigh when she heard the knock on the door, and Simon’s shouted “I’ll get it!”
    â€œPerfect. Just perfect.”
    She stared after Moe as he raced away, and heard Simon’s excited voice telling Brad about Moe’s latest adventure.
    â€œHe ran all over the house. He made a real mess.”
    â€œSo I see.” Brad turned into the living room where Zoe stood, surrounded by