Free Nobody's Dog by Ria Voros Page A

thing in my vision, so I don’t see the guy walking along the sidewalk on the other side of the street until I’m already pulling the pool behind me, gasping for breath.
    â€œHey!” he shouts. “Pranksters! That’s stealing!”
    â€œMason!” I shout, like he can do something about this. Why didn’t he warn me? He was lookout!
    Mason’s running toward me, swearing. “Sorry J, didn’t see him.” He grabs the other side of the half-inflated pool and we run around the corner store.
    Chilko’s still wheezing beside the empty milk crates, and we both hold our breath until we get the pool behind the garage door.
    One minute. Two. No knocking, no more shouting. The man must have kept walking.
    â€œYou think he’ll call the cops?” I ask. It seems like everything that happens to me when I’m out roaming involves the police.
    Mason pants and wipes his face. “Nah. He didn’t see us come in here.”
    Since he messed up the whole lookout thing, I don’t completely trust Mason’s opinion, but we wrestle the pool out the door again and Mason goes to get the can opener.
    Chilko does not like being washed with tomato juice.He stands in the pool without struggling too much, but the whole time I pour juice over him, trying not to gag, he howls. He howls in this moaning way that’s like someone died. Mason tries to make him feel better by talking to him about getting dry and not smelling like skunk, but he just keeps howling.
    I use the empty can to scoop up more juice and pour it over Chilko’s head. He flattens his ears and then shakes all the juice over me and Mason and the back wall of the corner store.
    â€œHey, man — I’ve got to clean this up. That’s not cool.” Mason goes to find a towel.
    â€œJust wait a little longer,” I gasp. “Soon you’ll stink like tomatoes and not skunk.” The smell is still really bad and I have a feeling this isn’t working. Maybe we need more juice. Maybe he’s supposed to soak in it. I don’t think he’ll lie down in the pool for a lifetime of dog treats.
    Mason comes back with some paper towel and starts wiping the wall down. “He still reeks,” he says, coughing.
    â€œI don’t think it worked,” I say. “What am I going to do?”
    â€œUh, go home? Confess? So you were out after bedtime — all kids get in trouble at some point.” Mason shrugs. “I got my first grounded-for-life when I was thirteen.”
    â€œYou don’t understand —”
    I don’t get to finish my sentence because right then a car pulls up to the back of the corner store. My heart stops. I drop the can and look for a good exit. Chilko quits howling and shakes again, spraying us. There’s no escape. I fly behind a pile of boxes. Mason sees me and grimaces. I send him “I’m not here” messages in my head. I just hope he’ll cover for me.
    A woman gets out of the car. “Mason Kreeley, what inblazes are you doing?” she shouts. Her arms fly up as she yells. She wears a dressing gown and a really angry expression.
    Mason grabs Chilko’s collar, gagging at the stench. “Don’t flip out. I was only trying to help,” he stutters.
    â€œOh, you better have a good explanation for this!” The woman stares at the tomato-spattered walls and ground and the kiddie pool and the stinky dog.
    â€œThis is Chilko,” Mason says. “He needed help.”
    The woman splutters and waves her arms again. “That’s Mrs. Johnson’s play pool. Why is it here, with a dog in it?”
    Mason winces. “We — I just — he got sprayed by a skunk.”
    The woman rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I got that much from the odour.”
    â€œHe was pretty messed up. I had to help.”
    The woman shakes her head. “Mason, you’re too old to smack around, but believe me, if