Lola Levine Meets Jelly and Bean Page 2

  Chapter Four

  The Big Day

  When we all arrive at Another Chance Animal Shelter, Ben and I scramble out of the car and start to run to the front door.

  “Stop!” Mom says. “You know better than to run in the parking lot. Be careful.”

  “Sorry!” I say, and turn back to grab her hand as we walk together into the shelter. Dad lifts Ben and puts him on his shoulders.

  “Why is this place called Another Chance?” Ben asks.

  “Because Another Chance is a shelter that gives a home to animals that don’t have a family to live with,” Dad explains.

  “What happens if they don’t find a home with a family?” Ben asks with a frown.

  “They can live here forever,” Dad says, smiling.

  We walk through the doors and see a sign that says ALL ANIMALS DESERVE A GOOD LIFE.

  I read it out loud for Ben.

  “All people deserve a good life, too, right?” Ben says, tugging Dad’s hair.

  “Yep,” I say, “and I bet people who are nice to pets are nice to people, too.”

  “That’s right, wise one,” Mom says.

  “Don’t you have to be old to be wise?” I ask Mom, wondering if she’s joking.

  “No,” Mom answers. “Wise just means smart with a little kindness thrown in.”

  We see a girl sitting behind a welcome desk. Her name tag says HI! I’M ZOE! and she has a ring—through her nose! It’s gold. We sit down, and I say, “We are here to adopt a kitty!”

  Zoe asks us lots of questions and reminds us that kitties need cool fresh water, food, playtime, and respect. I tell her that I know how to scoop, dump, and clean a litter box, and then Ben interrupts.

  “I won’t clean the litter box, but I’ll be feeding the kitty and giving her water!” he says.

  “That’s because he throws up easily,” I explain, remembering the time he threw up in a garbage can outside my classroom. We were doing a composting project, and there were a lot of wiggly worms involved.

  My parents fill out a bunch of forms, and then Zoe says, “Do you have any questions for me?”

  “Yes,” I say. “How do you blow your nose with that ring in there?”

  “Lola!” Mom and Dad say at the same time.

  “Be polite,” Dad says.

  Zoe doesn’t seem to mind, though. She looks at me, smiles, and says, “Very carefully.”

  I like Zoe. We follow her down the hall toward the kitty room, when suddenly Ben says, “I’ve got to pee!”

  “Just wait, Ben,” I say. “I want to pick out our kitty!”

  “But the doctor says it’s not good to wait,” Ben says, and does a little hop. I roll my eyes.

  “I’ve got an idea,” says Dad. “I’ll take Ben to the restroom, and we’ll meet you in the kitty room.”

  “Good plan,” says Mom. We follow Zoe to the young cat room and see all sorts of kitties. They are all so cute and cuddly I wonder how I’ll ever decide. Then I feel something furry slide around my ankles and calves. I look down to see an orange cat with the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.

  “What a beauty,” Mom says, carefully picking up the cat. “She or he is friendly, too!”

  “Can I hold her?” I ask Mom. The cat looks young but not quite a kitten.

  “Of course!” Mom says, and hands her to me. She looks at the tag on the orange kitty’s collar and walks over to the bulletin board.

  “This kitty is a girl, and she’s nine months old,” Mom says, “and great with kids. Her owners had to move to a place that doesn’t allow cats.”

  I hold the orange cat in my arms and gently run my hands over her fur. She purrs.

  “I don’t think you need to pick out a cat,” says Zoe. “I think your cat picked you!”

  “I agree,” says Mom. “She is one sweet kitty.”

  We are already back in the front of the shelter with our new orange kitty when Dad and Ben find us.

  “There you are!” says Dad.

  “We got distracted by the puppies,” says Ben. “Is this our new cat?”

  “We hope so!” I say. “Mom and I think she’s perfect. We are just waiting to see what you think.”

  Ben walks up to me and carefully pets the orange kitty.

  “She’s amazing. I didn’t know cats could be that orange,” he says. “Can we keep her?”

  “We sure can,” Dad answers.

  On the way home from Another Chance Animal Shelter, we debate names for our new pet.

  “We could call her Sunny, because she’s orange,” I say, but it doesn’t quite seem right.

  “How about Cheddar?!” says Ben. “Or Cheese Puff?”

  “I really don’t think her name needs to be cheese-related,” I say.

  “Carrot?” suggests Ben. “Mango?”

  “Why are all your suggestions food?” I ask.

  “Because I am sooooooooooooo hungry!” says Ben.

  “We’ll make you some sandwiches when we get home,” Dad says.

  We slowly introduce our not-so-little kitty to her new home. She seems to like it. After a while, Dad brings in some peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches—my favorite. They are shaped like stars and hearts. Dad believes in “creative expression,” even with food. He says it’s not wasteful because he eats the crusts after he cuts out the shapes. Mom brings us tall glasses of chicha morada, our favorite drink from Peru. That’s where Tía Lola, the aunt I’m named for, lives and where my mom grew up. Chicha morada is made from purple corn that’s cooked with spices and pineapple and then poured over ice, but it looks just like grape juice. Mom uses instant chicha morada packs Tía Lola sends her from Lima, Peru. I like stirring the purple powder into the water.

  “When I was little, my mother would boil the purple corn with cinnamon sticks, sugar, cloves, and pineapple,” Mom says, taking a big drink.

  “Tell me more stories about Peru,” I tell Mom. I went to Peru with my parents when I was only two and my brother was a baby, but I don’t remember much.

  “Well, my mom is one of nine children, and my father is one of five, so Lola and I always had lots of cousins to play with.”

  “I wish I had cousins to play with,” I say. Dad is an only child, and Tía Lola doesn’t have children.

  “Well,” says Mom, “now you have Ben AND your new cat to play with.”

  “I know,” I say, smiling. I also have my two super best friends, Josh and Bella.

  “Lola!” Ben yells. “Look! The kitty is licking the grape jelly off your plate. She likes it!”

  “She does,” I say, taking away the plate. I reach to pet her, and she licks my fingers. It feels scratchy.

  “Do you like jelly?” I ask. She purrs, and I have an idea. “What if we name her Jelly?”

  “I like that,” says Dad.

  “Me too,” says Mom.

  “Ben?” I ask.

  “Jelly… Jelly…,” Ben says, concentrating on something. “You know… grape jelly is purrrple!” Ben says. “Get it? Purrrple?”

  “Yes!” I say. “We have a winner! Welcome to our family, Jelly Levine!”

  Chapter Five

  The Polka-Dot Ghost

  Later, we are playing in my bedroom when Jelly walks over and sits in Ben’s lap.

  “Hi, Jelly!” says Ben, but then he starts sniffling. I look at Ben and realize something is wrong. His eyes are watery, and it looks like he’s trying to hold something in because his face is all red and scrunched up.

  “Ben, do you have to go to the bathroom?” I ask. He shakes his head.

  “Are you going to throw up?” I say, and now I’m really worried. Ben shakes his head. Then suddenly his mouth opens, and he lets out a great big loud—

  “Achooooooooooooo!”

  And then he sneezes again. And again. And he doesn’t stop.

  “Achooooooooooooo! Achooooooooo! Achooooooooooooo! Achooooooooo!”

  I’m thinking I should get Mom when he finally has enough breath to say, “Get Jelly away from m
e!”

  “What?!” I say, scooping Jelly into my arms. “What did Jelly ever do to you?” Still, I open the door of my bedroom and let Jelly out. I think she’s scared of Ben’s sneezing, so she’s happy to go.

  “I think Jelly makes me sneeze,” Ben says, wiping his nose and eyes. “I was okay before I played with her.”

  Oh no! I think. Not that!

  “Maybe you just have a cold…,” I say.

  “But I don’t,” Ben says.

  “I think you just have a cold,” I say a little louder. Ben just looks confused. “Ben,” I continue, “do you know what will happen if you are allergic to Jelly?”

  “No,” he says, “what?”

  “THEY WILL TAKE HER AWAY!” I say.

  “But I love Jelly!” says Ben, and now his eyes are watering for another reason.

  “I know,” I say. “So, Ben, I have a question for you. Are you getting a cold?”

  “No. I mean, yes! I am. I really am.” Then he fake coughs and says, “I have a fever I think. I need to tell Mom to buy Popsicles and make chicken soup and—”

  “Ben! Don’t overdo it, or Mom and Dad will know you are faking. And try to stay away from Jelly.”

  “I will,” he says, looking pretty miserable.

  The next morning, I wake up to the sound of Ben yelling. It’s coming from the direction of his room. I run across the hall, followed by Mom and Dad.

  “I’m covered in dots!” Ben says, and he is. He has bumpy things all over his face and arms. “Help!”

  “Benito,” Mom says, “what’s wrong? When did this happen to your skin?”

  “They almost look like bug bites,” Dad says, “but none of us have them. I don’t think these are from mosquitoes.”

  “Maybe he’s allergic to something,” Mom says. “They look a lot like hives.”

  “Hives! What’s that?” Ben asks, and starts to cry. “Does this have something to do with bees? My bumps itch!”

  “It’s okay, Ben,” Dad says. “We’ll take you to the doctor. These hives have nothing to do with bees. But I wonder what you are allergic to? What did you eat yesterday?”

  I look at Ben, and I feel so bad I could almost cry. I take a big breath.

  “He’s allergic to Jelly,” I say. “He was sneezing each time he got near her last night.” Mom and Dad don’t look very happy.

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Ben?” Dad asks, but he’s looking at me.

  “It’s my fault,” I say, and then the rest comes out. “I told Ben to pretend he has a cold.”

  “Lola,” Mom says, “I am very disappointed in you—first for not telling us the truth and second for encouraging Ben to ignore how his body feels.”

  “I think you need to go to your room now, Lola,” Dad says. Mom nods her head.

  “I’m sorry, Lola,” Ben says, still crying.

  “I’m the one who is sorry,” I say, and go to my room.

  I lie down on my bed. My tummy hurts like it does when I do something wrong. I decide to write Mom and Dad a note, and I give it to Mom when she brings me some toast and hot milk with honey for breakfast.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  I am so sorry I didn’t tell you about Ben. It’s just that I have wanted a pet for so long, and I love Jelly so much that I didn’t want her to go away. But I know that lying is never okay, and I promise I won’t do it again. I especially won’t do it again if it means Ben will get sick and then get covered in dots and look even weirder than he already does. I really hope the dots go away.

  Shalom,

  Lola Levine

  Then I write another note for Ben, who is still at the doctor with Dad.

  Dear Ben,

  I’m sorry I told you to lie. I hope you didn’t get in trouble, too.

  Lola

  P.S. I love you even more than I love Jelly, so I guess I’ll be okay.

  Luckily, Ben comes back from the doctor feeling much better, and my parents tell me to come downstairs for lunch. I give Ben my note, and my dad says that everyone makes mistakes and it’s okay as long as we learn from them. Ben is still covered in dots, but now they are pink and even bigger.

  “The doctor gave me medicine, and I’m wearing lotion that stops the hives from itching!” he says. “It smells funny and makes me look like a polka-dot ghost! The doctor says the hives will go away soon now that—”

  “Now that what?” I say.

  “Now that Jelly is staying in Dad’s studio,” he says.

  “Only until we can find her a good home,” says Dad.

  “But what if we CAN’T find Jelly a good home?” I ask Dad.

  “Then Jelly has to go back to the shelter,” Dad says.

  “But I’m going to ask around at work,” Mom says.

  “And Dad says we can make adopt-a-kitty posters and put them up at the rec center,” says Ben.

  “And around the neighborhood…,” says Mom.

  “Okay,” I say.

  I go visit Jelly in Dad’s studio. It’s not too hot or too cold, and my dad set up the cat castle there. He also made sure anything that might be dangerous for cats was locked away in his big metal closet. Still, I think Jelly looks lonely. And I really don’t like the fact that she will sleep alone at night. We play for a long time, and then I go to my room. When my dad comes in later, my head is resting on my folded arms on my desk and I’m crying.

  “Hi, Lola,” Dad says. “Are you still thinking about Jelly?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I don’t want to stop because what if I never see Jelly again and I forget her? I’ll be sad forever.”

  “You won’t forget her, Lola,” he says. “I promise.”

  “You’re right, Dad,” I say, raising my head and looking at him. I notice that he has splatters of paint on his cheek and on his T-shirt. This is nothing new since he’s always painting. It gives me an idea.

  “I know,” I say. “I’ll paint a picture of Jelly and put it on my wall.”

  “That’s a great idea!” says Dad. “I think you should use watercolors this time. Let’s go get some special paper from my studio.”

  “I agree,” I say, and I’m glad my dad is an artist. Creative expression is a good thing, in my opinion. I paint a picture of Jelly and finish just before bedtime. It’s hard for me to fall asleep—but not because I’m excited. I can’t sleep because I’m sad. I try to think of nice things, like ice cream, soccer, my goldfish Mia, Tía Lola, and my bubbe. It doesn’t really work because I really can’t stop thinking about Jelly.

  Chapter Six

  Adopt a Kitty

  “Lola, I have a surprise for you,” Mom says the next morning, peeking her head into my room. She’s about to leave for work.

  “What’s the surprise?” I ask.

  “I brought you your favorite people,” she says, and walks into my room, followed by Bella and Josh.

  “Yeah!” I say. I’m so happy to see them.

  “We heard about Jelly,” says Bella.

  “And we want to help,” says Josh.

  “I hope you can,” I say. “I need to make lots of ADOPT A KITTY posters. I’m going to put them up everywhere.”

  “Let’s do it together, Lola!” Bella says.

  “You three get to spend the day together,” Mom says. “Then Dad will take all of you to swim lessons this afternoon. Ben is spending the day at Mira’s house.”

  Mira is Ben’s best friend. I like her a lot, even if her sister is Alyssa Goldstein. The last time I saw Alyssa, she told me that I was weird. Luckily, I have my two super best friends who don’t think I’m weird. Or if they do, they don’t seem to care. I give Mom a hug good-bye.

  “You are the best mom in the whole wide world,” I whisper in her ear.

  “And you are the best daughter in the whole wide world,” she whispers back.

  “Is this Jelly?” asks Bella, looking at the new painting on my wall.

  “It sure is,” I say. “Want to meet her?”

  “Definitely!” Josh says.

 
; “Yes!” says Bella.

  I lead them to Dad’s studio, and we take Jelly outside with a leash and some of her cat toys. We play with Jelly for a long time. She pounces and rolls around and purrs.

  “She’s an awesome cat,” says Josh. “Somebody will want to adopt her for sure.”

  “I wish I could,” says Bella, “but I already asked my parents, and they said no because we travel to Mexico so much.”

  “And I’ve already got Milo,” Josh says. “I don’t think my mom would let me have two cats.” Josh is right—his mom seems to say no a lot.

  “We need to find a super-awesome somebody to adopt Jelly,” I say, “and that’s that!” My bubbe, Grandma Levine, says “That’s that!” a lot, and I like it. She has lots of opinions, just like me, and when she says something, she means it.

  “I agree,” says Josh. The three of us go back upstairs to make lots of ADOPT A KITTY posters, and then I ask Dad if we can put them up around the neighborhood.

  “Sure,” he says. “As long as you stick together, look both ways before you cross the street, and be back before lunchtime. And don’t go any farther than Josh’s house.”

  “And Jelly—” I say, but Dad interrupts.

  “I promise to play with her,” Dad says and pats my shoulder.

  It’s bright and sunny outside, and by the time we finish putting up posters, we are hot and tired.

  “Want to stop by my house for some lemonade?” says Josh.

  “Yes!” says Bella, and I agree. When we get to Josh’s house, his mom is in the backyard garden. It seems like she’s always there when I visit during the summer. Maybe it’s because she has to be in an office all day during the school year.

  “Hi, Principal Blot,” I say. Josh’s cat, Milo, comes up to me and says hello. Even though he’s big and slow, he still reminds me a little of Jelly.