Part 9 (2/2)

Later that morning, Jessi and Mal and I walked Sonny to the address that Laine had given us. (Stacey and Mary Anne were taking care of Rowena and Alistaire again; Claud and Laine had gone shopping; and Dawn had said, rather mysteriously, that she might leave the apartment, but she hadn't said where she'd go-) ”Thanks for coming with me/' I said to Jessi and Mal. ”I appreciate it.”

”No problem,” Mallory replied. ”Sonny's our roommate. I feel like he's a member of the Baby-sitters Club.”

”Yeah,” agreed Jessi. ”And now that I don't have to make a fool out of myself when we leave the building, taking Sonny out is a lot easier.”

We found the clinic without any trouble, I gave my name to the guy at the reception desk, and then we sat down to wait with Sonny. I looked around the room. Mos^of the other people were also waiting with dogs. A few were whispering to cats in carriers. One man was holding a box on his lap.

”What do you suppose is in that box?” I asked softly.

”I hope it's something gentle, like a rabbit,” Mal replied.

”As opposed to what?” asked Jessi.

”As opposed to a snake.”

We never did find out what was in the box, though. The man's name was called, and soon after that, my name was called. Jessi and Mal and I led Sonny back to a small room behind the receptionist's desk. A very nice doctor introduced herself to us. Then she gave Sonny a thorough exam.

”He seems perfectly healthy to me,” said Dr. Tierny.

I breathed a sigh of relief. ”Do you have any idea how old he is?”

Dr. Tierny looked at Sonny's teeth again. ”This is just an estimate, but he's probably about three years old.”

”Okay. Thank you.” I knew I would have an easier time finding a home for a young, healthy dog than for one that was old or ill. ”Come on, Sonny Boy.” I paid Dr. Tierny the ten dollars, (apologized), and walked out of the clinic with Sonny, Mal, and Jessi.

”Now what?” asked Mal as we stepped outside.

”First we take Sonny on a nice long walk,” I replied. ”Then we make a bunch of signs and stick them up all over the neighborhood. I guess we should place a short ad in one of the papers, too. We'll say we found a dog and we're looking for either his owner or a new home.”

Jessi and Mal and I walked Sonny all over the Upper West Side. When we brought him home, Mrs. c.u.mmings offered to pay to put the ad in the newspaper, which was very generous of her, and Mal lettered a flier. It looked like this: iv Ce.v%4va.i Park : . 3 yeao fd. Are. yon Inis you ^we- nlw a. t^odd Call LJ 5-6470 I borrowed money from Jessi and Mal, and took the flier to the library. I made as many copies as I could afford. Then I tacked them up in Laine's neighborhood, and also in the park, near where I had found Sonny.

Later, back at the c.u.mmingses', I kissed the top of Sonny's head. ”Old boy,” I said to him, even though he wasn't old, ”I have exactly six and a half days to find you a home.”

Dawn.

Chapter 16.

Sunday morning. As usual, I was alone in Mr. McGill's apartment. But for once, I did not care. Why not? Because Richie was coming over. And we were going to go out! I was not even very afraid. After all, I had survived eight nights by the fire escape. I had survived the subway. I had survived several trips with my friends. I had even survived being alone in a strange apartment with a creep ringing the doorbell. (So what if the creep turned out to be Richie? He was a stranger when he first came to the door.) When Richie asked me if I wanted to spend Sunday with him ”on the town,” I said sure. I also said, ”How are you going to spend a day on the town on crutches? That seems a bit difficult.” I had said that the day before while Richie and I were sitting on his fire escape, eating apples. We had done a lot of talking on that fire escape over the past few days. (We were getting tan.) ”You'll see,” was all Richie would reply. Then he added, ”By the way, I'm going to be busy this afternoon, so I won't see you. I'll come over tomorrow morning around ten, okay?”

”Okay. That's fine.”

Now it was 9:57 Sunday morning. Richie is punctual beyond all reason. When he said ”around ten,” I knew he meant ten on the nose. In fact, if my watch said anything besides ten o'clock when the doorbell rang, I would reset it.

”Nine-fifty-nine and fifty seconds,” I murmured. I began a countdown. ”Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one . . .”

Ding-dong!

I just love punctual people.

I checked through the peephole, then unlocked the door. ”Hey!” I exclaimed as Richie entered the apartment. ”Where are your crutches?”

”Gone,” he replied proudly. ”I went to the hospital yesterday afternoon. The doctor gave me a walking cast, see?” Richie held up his foot. Then he showed off his walking. ”Doesn't hurt a bit,” he added.

”Wow.” I was impressed.

”Ready to do the town?”

”Just point me in the direction of the first sight,” I replied.

Richie aimed me out the door. When we were on the street, we hailed a cab. ”Madison and Sixtieth Street, please,” said Richie.

”What's there?” I asked.

Richie shrugged and smiled. He wasn't going to tell me.

When the driver stopped at the intersection Richie had requested, I climbed out of the cab and looked around. I raised my eyebrows at Richie.

”Here we are,” he said.

”Where?”

”Right here. On Madison Avenue. One of the finest shopping streets in the city. Here you will find Laura Ashley clothes, cowboy boots, boutiques, and bookstores. It's the soup to nuts of the shopping world.”

”Thank you, Mr. Tour Guide,” I said.

We walked around until Richie's ankle began to ache. (I bought a booklet of New York postcards to send to Jeff in California.) Then we took a bus uptown and walked a short distance to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

”Look at this,” said Richie, pointing. ”I love this sight.”

We were standing before the stately stone steps to the museum entrance. Above us hung large, colorful flags announcing special exhibits. Richie and I walked slowly up the stairs and stepped into a great, hushed hall.

”How much does it cost to get in?” I whispered.

Richie pointed to a sign. I think it said, ”Pay what you wish, but you must pay something.” That was nice. You could pay whatever you could afford.

We walked around for awhile, but a museum was really not the best place for Richie. Too much standing. So we left and ambled down Fifth Avenue. On our right was Central Park.

”Even I have been to the park,” I said.

”Isn't it wonderful?” replied Richie. ”A park right in the middle of this huge city. Eight hundred and forty acres of greenery.” (I didn't mention it, but he sounded an awful lot like Mary Anne.) When Richie grew tired, we grabbed another cab. ”Grand Army Plaza, please,” he said. We rode down Fifth Avenue until the park came to an abrupt end. The cab pulled over to the curb.

”Now where - ”I started to ask.

Mr. Tour Guide cut me off. ”The square before you is called Grand Army Plaza. Beyond that is the Plaza Hotel, the setting for the famed book Eloise, and also the place where, years ago, my father proposed to my mother. Down Fifth Avenue are more fine stores. Steuben, FAO Schwarz, the New York Public Library shop, Saks Fifth Avenue.”

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