The Graham Cracker Plot by Shelley Tougas

there. I’m not crunching my bones.”
    â€œNice. So I should crunch mine?”
    â€œI need my hands to hunt and fish.” He poked me. “You dropped it, Queen of Dropping Coins. So you look for it.”
    I called from behind the beast, “Fine. But try to hold it steady. Don’t let it drop back on me. I’m serious. Do not let it fall.”
    â€œI won’t. I’ll balance the weight more toward me. I know my arms look skinny,” he grunted, “but they’re strong. Don’t worry.”
    That’s when I should have worried. Because as soon as Graham pulled on the refrigerator, the whole thing started tilting away from me and toward him. It was slow motion, I swear. The refrigerator fell to the floor like a leaf drops to the ground. The air seemed to prop it up for a few seconds, and if there had been a wind, it might have swirled. Then there was a massive non-leaf-like crash.
    â€œDamn!” Graham shouted.
    â€œAre you under there?” I covered my eyes because I was afraid he’d been pancaked.
    â€œDuh. I’m right here.”
    Now I could be mad. “I said to balance it, not let it drop!”
    His eyes were huge. “I pulled just a little, so it wouldn’t fall on your hand. That’s all.”
    â€œWell, now what, King of Dropping Refrigerators?”
    â€œWhat happened?” Ashley, who’d disappeared during the coin search, came in from the dining room. She wasn’t alone. Mud formed a trail behind her and a dog .
    And, man, he stunk! The smell was like the part of the zoo where elephant poop steams in the sun, like a dare to put your face in the litter box, like when Alex leaves the bathroom after eating chili.
    â€œWhere’ve you been?” Graham asked.
    â€œWoof.” This dog was huge and scruffy, mostly brown with some black splotches. His ears were pointy and lopsided. Not the kind of dog from a cute birthday card. Ashley got on her knees. He put his paws on her shoulders and licked her face. “This is exactly the kind of dog I was looking for. Isn’t he a sweet-licious baby?”
    â€œI thought you wanted a Saint Bernard.” I plugged my nose. “Where did you find that disgusting thing?”
    â€œAre you out of your mind? Saint Bernards are huge! Do you know how much they eat?” She scratched the dog’s ears. “I saw this sweetheart from the window. I went outside, and he gave me a tour. He’d been hiding. He showed me a barn and some big trees and the pretty hedge. He showed me how many branches came down during the storm. And he showed me his Beefy Bits and—oh boy, you’d do anything for those, wouldn’t ya?” Ashley kissed the tip of his nose and pulled a nugget from a Beefy Bit bag. The dog’s tail went wild. He jumped at Ashley and snarfed the treat right out of her hand. “Good boy! Were ya scared, muffin? Huh? Were ya? You’re safe now.”
    Graham plugged his nose. I said, “Stinkbomb!”
    Ashley’s mouth opened. I figured she couldn’t stand breathing through her nose. Turns out, she was mad. “That’s sooooo mean! Dog hater!”
    â€œIt’s not mean. It’s true!” I said. “Why do we have to call things something they’re not? Because it’s nice? I’m sick of nice. I’d rather have true . Play dump, not playground, right Graham?”
    He didn’t answer.
    â€œNobody calls their dog Stinkbomb, Daisy,” Ashley said. “He has a tag, but there’s no name or number. Anything that was printed on it wore off.”
    â€œWe have a bigger problem.” I pointed at the refrigerator. “Look what Graham did!”
    â€œI didn’t do it! You’re the one who pushed!”
    Ashley stood and crossed her arms. “It’s all about you, you, you! I’m keeping this dog and giving him a name.”
    â€œCan you name him after we get the refrigerator