Free Hotel For Dogs by Lois Duncan

contradicted. “Aunt Alice is fat, and she hardly eats anything. Besides, we won’t have to buy all the food. Debbie thinks if we ask the ladies at the cafeteria to save the scraps and put them in a bag —”
    “Debbie!” Bruce pounced upon the unfamiliar name. “Who’s Debbie? Have you been blabbing around about the hotel? I thought we all promised —”
    “I haven’t been blabbing,” Andi said. “I only told Debbie. She’s my best friend, just the way Tim is yours.”
    “What do you mean, your best friend?” Bruce exploded. “I’ve never even heard of her! If you have a best friend, why haven’t you ever had her over?”
    “I am going to have her over tomorrow,” Andi told him. “She’s going to help me with the hotel housework. Now that we have six guests, there’stoo much work for one person to do alone. You boys never help.”
    “Never help!” Bruce was so angry that it was all he could do to keep from grabbing his sister and shaking her until her teeth rattled. “What do you call all those hours Tim and I put in after school and on weekends raking leaves?”
    “That’s not the same thing,” Andi said. “It really isn’t, Bruce. I feed them and clean up after them.”
    Then, because it seemed very likely that her brother might be about to hit her, she snatched MacTavish into her arms and ran out of the room.
    “You shouldn’t let her get to you like that,” Tim remarked later, as the boys collected their rakes from the Kellys’ garage. “She’s just acting like a girl. My sisters are the same way sometimes.”
    “I know,” Bruce said wearily. “I never used to get so mad at her. It’s just today — bringing home that blasted dog without even checking with us first —”
    “He seems like a nice dog,” Tim said. “Those black ears and white face make him look like a clown. Those pups of Friday’s are going to be ready to leave her in another week or so anyway.”
    “That’s true. They’re already beginning to eat solid food.” Bruce brightened slightly. “If we get rid of them, that will cut things down by half.”
    Even so, he had far from a joyful expression on his face as he and Tim set off down the street toward their afternoon job.
    Bruce was exhausted. He had always been a boy who enjoyed having time to himself — time for reading, for playing with other boys, for puttering around with his photography. Now suddenly there was no time at all. When he was not in school, he was working, and when he wasn’t working, he was trying to study —
trying
because by the time dinner was over and he was ready to settle down to his books, he was usually so sleepy that he could not keep the words on the page from running together.
    It showed in his grades.
    “I don’t understand what’s happened,” his father said the day report cards came out. “You’ve always been an A student. Where did these Bs and Cs come from all of a sudden?”
    “Maybe the schools in Elmwood are more advanced than the ones out West,” Aunt Alice suggested. “Perhaps they grade harder here.”
    “In that case, Bruce should be working harder.”
    Mr. Walker had no patience with average marks. He knew that both Bruce and Andi were bright children, and he had always expected them to stay at the top of their classes. The fact that his wife was a teacher only enhanced those expectations.
    “I know I should, Dad.” Bruce struggled to stifle a yawn. “I’ll get at that math tonight.”
    “You look as though you could fall asleep right here at the table,” his mother said worriedly. “Can’t you do some of your studying in the afternoon?” She turned to her husband. “He and Andi both go out to play right after school every day. They’re out all afternoon,
every
afternoon.”
    “I’m not tired. It’s only eight o’clock.” Bruce forced his eyes wide. The last thing he wanted was to be forbidden to spend his afternoons away from the house. “I’m just sort of groggy from eating so much.