No Girls Allowed (Dogs Okay) by Trudi Trueit Page B

ball. He grabs it, turns, and runs to a lady in white pants. She throws the ball again. The dog zips between two maple trees to get it. As he runs, his rusty brown–and-white fur waves in the wind. I bet his fur is soft. I bet it is
so
soft. I’d give anything to be on the other side of this window. Mr. Huckabee is still jabbering. “. . . part of growing up is being aware of your actions and how they affect others. You can’t always do what you want to do when you want to do it. Do you see that, Scab?”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    Outside, the lady drops to her knees. She wraps her arms around the collie’s neck. He licks her cheekwith a big, pink, wet tongue. She laughs. She looks so happy.
    My heart hurts.
    That’s what I want. I want a dog to love.
    I want a dog to love me back.

CHAPTER
2
Scab’s Lab, Part 1
    S CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAB!”
    That’s my sister, Isabelle. She must have found the hunk of cheddar cheese I stuck in her underwear drawer. It’s been there for two and a half days. Remind me to write that down in my inventor’s notebook. It’s my latest experiment to see how long it takes your sister to find cheese hidden in her underwear drawer.
    Isabelle and I are twins. But we are nothing alike. Isabelle is smart times ten. She speaks German. She can say the alphabet backward in less than five seconds. She likes to use big words. It’s enough to make you
kotzen
. That’s German for “puke.”
    My sister got moved up a grade this year. She’s in the fifth grade instead of the fourth with me. Miss Sweetandsour says I would do better in school too if I “applied myself.” I don’t know exactly what that means, but it sounds about as fun as a flu shot. My lab is a mess, but I like it that way. Isabelle freaks out if there’s even a pine needle on her floor. My sister is a nervous person. Doyle says she is “wound pretty tight.” Getting someone like Isabelle to unwind could take
a lot
of cheese.

    â€œScaaaaaaaab!”
    She’s close. I grab the spray bottle off my desk, hold it up, and squeeze the trigger. I sneak into my cave and slide the door shut.
    â€œI know you’re in here—gross, what is this goop on the floor?”
    A blackberry Fruit Roll-Up. It’s my wormhole to outer space. Next question?
    â€œScab, I know you’re in here. When Mom gets home, I’m telling her about the—Ewww!”
    She’s caught a whiff of my new stinky sister-be-gone spray. I made it to keep Isabelle out of my lab when I’m not around. I’ve been working on the spray for a whole month. It’s not perfect. After all, it’s been ten seconds and she’s
still
here. I’m shooting for five seconds tops.

    Bug spit! I smell fresh air. Isabelle has opened a window.I’d better go out there before she starts snooping through my stuff.
    ISABELLE’S SMELL
SISTER-BE-GONE SPRAY
    1 cup used bathwater
    1 cup cabbage stew or any slimy soup
    Â½ cup vinegar
    1 packet of taco sauce mix
    3 slices of bologna (meat loaf works too)
    8 dandelions
    2 spoonfuls of mayonnaise
    4 Junior Mints
    Mix everything in a blender until there are no more chunks. Pour into empty spray bottle. Spray once in direction of sister. Watch sister scram!
    My sister is holding her nose. “It’s noisome in here.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œStinky.”
    â€œI don’t smell anything weird.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t. I’m telling Mom and Dad about the mustard you put in my cheetah purse.”
    I laugh. That wasn’t an experiment. That was a dare from Doyle.
    â€œI’m also telling about your arm-farting at the assembly.” She lets go of her nose. “It’s all in my report. It’s printing out now.”
    Double bug spit! My sister takes notes on everything I do. She writes up a news report and turns it in to my parents. Sometimes Isabelle reads it out loud like she is Katie Couric or