Free Helping Hands by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

found, but I haven’t heard back from anyone yet. The more information we have about Gus, the better. But I can’t hang out on the computer all day.”
    â€œI’ll come down here and check whenever I can,” Jules says.
    â€œThanks. Do me a favor and call Brenna, too. Ask if that Animal Control officer is back yet.” My e-mail alert beeps and I click to open the new message.
    â€œIs it about Gus?” she asks.
    â€œNo.” I read and reread the message. “It’s David. He’s on his way over.”
    â€œI thought he was going to a horse show or something with his dad.”
    â€œLooks like his plans changed,” I say.
    â€œOuch,” Jules says.
    â€œYeah,” I agree. “Ouch.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    By the time I get out of the shower, Mom and Dad have returned, and the kitchen is filled with the smell of the best bagels in the world, toasted and smothered with cream cheese. David is here, too, working his way through a French-toast bagel. He doesn’t look like he got much sleep, either.
    â€œHey,” I say, putting the halves of my everything bagel in the toaster.
    â€œHey,” he says.
    Mom and Dad are downstairs putting the finishing touches on the store. Jules and Sophie are eating in the living room.
    I watch the wires inside the toaster glow hot. David usually talks a hundred miles a minute. He’s always joking, teasing, showing off to get a laugh.
    My bagel halves toast in silence, then pop.
    â€œAre you okay?” I ask.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.” I put the bagel on a plate and carry it to the table. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you at the horse show?”
    He just gives a snort and pushes the cream cheese across the table to me.
    â€œI spent a lot of time online last night,” I say, changing the subject, “trying to learn more about Gus and find a better home for the ponies.”
    He doesn’t respond, so I tell him everything I found. By the time I’ve finished the bagel, he knows everything, but I’m still puzzled.
    â€œDid something go wrong with your dad?” I ask.
    He looks up at me. “Why do you care? You have the perfect family.”
    â€œHa!” I laugh. “Perfect? We’re broke. If business doesn’t pick up soon, we’re going to have to move in with my grandparents. We’re always arguing. Half the time Sophie thinks she’s a pony or a rabbit or a raccoon. We’ve never been to Disneyworld, and I’m pretty sure we’ll never go. My parents expect me to be exactly like Jules, only the boy version. We are a long way from perfect, trust me.”
    â€œYeah, but your parents don’t make promises and break them.”
    That’s true.
    â€œThat’s why you’re not at the horse show, right?” I ask.
    He nods. “He said he had to go into work. He promised he’d make it up to me.” He shrugs, like he’s trying not to care. “Whatever.”
    I can’t imagine what it would feel like if that happened to me. Looking at David, I get the sense that it happens a lot.
    â€œThat really sucks,” I say.
    â€œYeah, it does.” He stabs the cream cheese with a knife. “Don’t tell the girls, okay?”
    â€œOk, I . . . whoops.” I say.
    â€œWhat?” he asks. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œI almost said ‘I promise,’ but then I realized that you might not like it if I said that. So . . . what I am supposed to say?”
    He gives a half laugh. “You could say, ‘David is the all-seeing, all-knowing horse genius and stand-up comedian who is my best friend and will save the world.’”
    â€œNo way!” I flick a spoonful of cream cheese, and it hits him square in the nose. “How about ‘David is a pain in the butt, but he’s my best friend and we’ll save