Teacher's Pet by Laurie Halse Anderson Read Free Book Online Page A

yesterday?”
    Mr. Carlson grins. “We practiced obedience lessons in the front yard until we wore a patch of grass down to nothing. Also, you should have seen the mess I made when I tried to change Scout’s bandage.”
    I glance down. The gauze on the dog’s paw is a little uneven, but it looks clean and secure.
    â€œYou did a good job,” I say.
    â€œAnd it only took an hour,” Mr. Carlson says. “But you’re right. I did it. It’s a start.”
    I open the door and follow the pair inside.
    â€œScout, halt,” Mr. Carlson says.
    We come to a stop in the front lobby.
    â€œThis is the part of the school I know best. I know how to get to the office, the library, my classroom, and the cafeteria. I got lost trying to get to a conference in Room 312. That’s back in the new wing, near the computer lab.”
    â€œI’ve never been there.” I snatch a piece of paper from a table in front of the office. “We can use this map.”
    â€œMaggie,” Mr. Carlson says. “A paper map doesn’t help me.”
    Duh. “You need a map you can feel, don’t you? I saw one at the guide-dog school. It had raised lines on it.”
    â€œThat’s a tactile map. We feel the outlines to learn where the rooms, halls, doors, and windows are located in a building. They make them for towns, college campuses, ski runs, and golf courses, too.”
    I trace the corridors on the paper map with my fingertip. “I could make a tactile map of this. It would be easy. I could use Popsicle sticks or toothpicks.”
    Scout’s tail sweeps back and forth over the floor. Mr. Carlson thinks about it for a moment, then nods.
    â€œThat would be great,” he says. “The art teacher has some supplies you could use.”
    â€œExcellent! But first we have to learn how to get to that conference room.” I consult the map. “We need to walk down to the library and take a left.”
    â€œWe can do that. Forward, Scout.”
    We weave our way through the school, getting a few curious glances from kids who are here early to work on the school newspaper or go to band practice. Mr. Carlson concentrates, trying to picture the way the school is laid out.
    Scout picks up the pace a bit and pulls on the harness. Should I say something? Scout pulls harder. He’s walking too far ahead, making Mr. Carlson lean. Mr. Carlson stumbles over a bump in the carpet. I reach out to steady his arm.
    â€œHang on, hang on,” Mr. Carlson says in frustration. “Scout, halt.”
    We stop. Mr. Carlson looks like he’s silently counting to ten, the way Gran does when she’s mad.
    â€œDo you really think this is going to work? One week and we’ll be fine?” he asks me.
    â€œAbsolutely,” I say. “Scout has started to form some bad habits. They can crop up quickly. He knows you like to walk fast, and you don’t correct him to keep him by your leg. He’s dragging you.” I remember back to what it felt like to walk with Nugent with my eyes closed. “I bet it’s harder to feel the position of the handle when he’s out so far in front.”
    â€œIt is. It makes me feel out of control. I need to make him heel. We worked on ‘Right’ and ’Left’ a lot yesterday. I should have thrown in a few ‘Heels,’ too.” He takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Maggie. We’re under control. Where to next?”
    â€œWe’re coming up on a right turn and then a staircase.”
    â€œScout, right,” Mr. Carlson says firmly.
    We all round the corner and start up the stairs. Scout starts to pull ahead again.
    â€œScout, heel,” Mr. Carlson quickly commands.
    The dog pauses, then walks in the correct position by his master’s leg.
    â€œAhem,” I say.
    â€œGood dog, Scout,” Mr. Carlson says.
    â€œGood job, Mr. Carlson,” I joke. “Up one more flight, and take a