Free Smells Like Dog by Suzanne Selfors Page B

right away.”
    “But the books…”
    “Homer! Mrs. Peepgrass said that
things
aren’t as important as
lives
.”
    Homer, who only heard about one percent of the things Mrs. Peepgrass said, remembered the story of Millicent Smith, an American treasure hunter who died after going back into her blazing house to try to save her bungee cords. “She was the world’s best volcano jumper,” Uncle Drake had told him. “The treasure-hunting community lost her expertise forever. Fire shows no mercy. Remember that.”
    Smoke stung Homer’s eyes as he helped Carlotta to her feet. He tucked the coin book under his arm. “Come on, Dog.” They headed toward the front door but didn’t get far as flames leaped off the bookshelf, blocking the way. Carlotta started coughing. Dog barked at the flames.
    “The stairs,” Homer said. He grabbed Carlotta’s hand and pulled her toward the stairwell. “Dog!” he called. But Dog stood his ground. The room was quickly filling with smoke. Homer rushed back and tugged on Dog’s collar. “Come on, will ya?” But Dog shook off Homer’s grip and kept barking. Homer couldn’t get a full breath. He dropped the coin book, wrapped his arms underDog’s belly, and picked him up. Wobbling beneath Dog’s weight, he carried him into the stairwell.
    With a groan, Homer collapsed. Dog tumbled onto the floor. The window was still wide open but too high to reach. Scrambling to his feet, Homer put his hands under one of Carlotta’s slippers and pushed her up the wall. “Help!” Carlotta cried, sticking her head out the window. “HELP!”
    Out in the main room, the library’s front windows buckled and shattered. A wailing siren approached. Luckily, the fire truck didn’t have far to go because the fire station stood in the center of town. Headlights lit up the night as members of the Milkydale Volunteer Fire Brigade arrived, most in their pajamas.
    “HELP!” Carlotta yelled again and again.
    “HELP!” Homer yelled, struggling to push her higher up the wall. Smoke trailed into the stairwell. Dog started barking again.
    A pair of big hands reached through the window and pulled Carlotta to safety. Then a ladder slid through and the fire chief landed next to Homer. “Anyone else inside?” he asked.
    “No,” Homer said, breathless. The fire chief slung Dog over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and they all made their escape.
    Sitting on the grass across from the library, Homerheld tight to Dog and watched as flames shot up the roof. It was the worst thing he’d ever seen and he fought the urge to vomit. Despite the brigade’s valiant efforts, the library could not be saved. Mr. Pudding pulled up in his truck, as did Mr. Crescent and every other farmer within earshot of the siren. As the last timber fell, attention turned to the boy, girl, and dog, each smudged with soot, sitting in the grass.
    “It’s my fault,” Carlotta said, teary-eyed. “I dropped the candle.”
    “No,” Homer said. “It’s my fault. I—”
    “Of course it’s your fault,” Mr. Crescent interrupted. “My Carlotta would never have gone into the library at night on her own.”
    “Hold on there, Crescent,” Mr. Pudding said. “Don’t you go blamin’ my boy.”
    The fire chief took off his hard hat. “What were you doing in there?” he asked.
    Homer looked at his father, whose face had turned as pale as the moon. How could he tell him? The library was supposed to be off limits. Treasure-hunting books were off limits. He’d be so disappointed.
    “He burned it down on purpose,” someone yelled. “He’s always been weird.”
    “He’s a juvenile delinquent.”
    “No,” Carlotta cried. “It’s not Homer’s fault. We fellasleep and I dropped the candle. And his dog can’t smell so it couldn’t warn us about the smoke.”
    “Can’t smell?” Mr. Crescent puffed out his chest. “The Pudding farm’s got a dog that can’t smell? That sounds about right.”
    “This is the worst thing that’s