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thanks!” I say.
    â€œTake a bite. How is it?”
    â€œPerfect,” I say, chewing. Now I’m smiling, too. I guess I can meet people after all. “You know,” I say between bites, pointing at the torn window screen behind Mario and the upper window, which is propped open with a wooden spoon, “Wrenches and Roses sells screening, and my dad knows how to repair everything. He sells all the hardware and can tell you how to fix stuff.”
    â€œYou are a good salesperson,” Mario says. “Your family business will do well.”
    â€œI hope so,” I say. “Thanks. And come by the store anytime.”
    â€œI will,” Mario says. “I will.”
    Wow, that went so much better than the yoga studio. I can’t wait to tell Dad and Josh.
    When I get to the sporting goods store one block down, Dad is waiting outside, and Josh is just coming out of the door.
    â€œHow’d it go?” Dad asks me.
    â€œThe yoga studio—so-so, but the bakery was great. Mario, the owner, was super nice.”
    Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re both really helping,” he says. “Now just one more stop on my list. It’s on the way home. We can all go together. I saved the best for last—the veterinary clinic.”
    The veterinary clinic? Ugh, that’s got to be Maggie MacKenzie’s grandmother’s clinic. And Sunita told me Maggie lives there. Dad is in a great mood now and I want to keep helping, but I can’t risk ruining everything with another run-in with Maggie.

Chapter Eight
    I ’ll skip the vet’s,” I say. “I need to head home and get started on my homework.”
    â€œOh, come on, Jules,” Dad says. “I know how much you love animals—maybe there will be some you can pet.” He’s heading up the walkway to the clinic.
    A sign out front says
    D R . M AC ’ S P LACE
    D R . J. J. M AC K ENZIE
    Three run-ins with Maggie are enough for one day. I can’t handle another. Plus, I doubt having the veterinarian’s granddaughter hate me is good for Mom and Dad’s business. They’ll probably find out sooner or later, but I’d rather avoid their disappointment today.
    â€œWe’ll only be a few minutes,” Dad says. “Then it’s home for dinner.”
    I make eye contact with Josh so he’ll help me out of this, but all he says is “Yeah, Jules, let’s check it out. Maybe we’ll see some cats and dogs or maybe even something exotic—a snake or a ferret or something.”
    I have no choice but to follow them in.
    A bell jangles as we enter the clinic, but no one is there except a huge orange tabby half asleep on the counter. He looks up at us, blinks his eyes as if he is bored with our company, then curls back up again.
    â€œHello,” Dad calls out.
    A big old basset hound galumphs in from a side room to greet us. I stay behind Josh, near the front exit, eyeing the door the basset hound came from. Maggie could be right behind him.
    â€œHello, buddy,” Josh says, bending to pet the dog.
    Still, no one comes out. “Well, let’s just sit and wait a few moments,” Dad says, sitting in one of the waiting room chairs.
    â€œNo, we’d better go,” I say. “They’re probably already closed.”
    â€œIt’s only five forty-five,” Dad says. “The sign says they are open until six, the door was unlocked, and the lights are all on.”
    The basset comes to sniff my ankles, wagging his tail. He leans against my legs and looks up at me with his big, sad eyes. He’s kind of drooly, but cute. I can’t help myself—I have to give him some pats. Then some rubs around his ears. He loves it and lies on his side, so I give him a good belly rub.
    Down the hall, a door labeled Dolittle Room opens, and David Hutchinson, the kid who showed Josh around school, pokes his head out. He’s cradling something tiny