The Good, the Bad & the Beagle - Hardcover

An Alphabet of Woes

There was a patch of dry, scaly skin on Veronica Louise Morgan’s left middle finger that she hated. Scratching was useless because the itch was below the bone. The only thing that helped was rubbing her knuckle back and forth against the green carpet in her bedroom until the whole thing was numb. She’d been rubbing her finger this way for twenty minutes already and the clock by her bed read 7:05 a.m.

Today was her first day at the Randolf School for Girls.

She would never survive.

The sounds of the coffee grinder and the front door closing infuriated her. This meant her father had just brought in the newspaper and her mother was making breakfast. Didn’t the last day of their eleven-year-old daughter’s life deserve some kind of ceremony instead of business as usual?

“Honey, what kind of bagel do you want?” her mother called. Veronica rubbed her knuckle harder. Her family was incredible. Who could think of things like bagels at a time like this?

The rug burned through more layers of skin while the aroma of sweet, warm, yeasty bread wafting from the kitchen made Veronica’s mouth water. She pushed images of yellow butter collecting in foamy pools along the surface of a lightly toasted bagel right out of her mind.

“Sesame,” she called. Oh well. She might as well enjoy one last breakfast.

“What?” her mother called back.

“Sesame!”

“Veronica, don’t shout!”

Ordinarily, Veronica Morgan would be very happy to point out that her mother was the person doing the shouting, but this being the last day of her life and all, she didn’t have the wherewithal to fight. She had some sense of decency, unlike the people she lived with.

“Veronica, Daddy and I are dying to see you in your uniform! Hurry up!”

Oh God. How could she ever leave her room? The only advice the twelfth-grade Randolf tour guide had given her was regarding uniform length. The girl’s name was Lynn Dehavenon and Lynn Dehavenon said uniforms had to be seven inches above the knee. That was the protocol for girls who were cool and put together. She was very specific.

“Socially, it is the most important thing you can do,” she had said.

Veronica had rolled that pearl of wisdom around her mind all summer. With proper tailoring, cool and put together were just within reach. In fact they were only seven inches away. But children are not the captains of their own ships. Grown-ups are. The tailor and her mother were at the helm and they steered Veronica’s ship straight into an iceberg. The tailor convinced her mother that since Veronica was still growing it was necessary to leave the newly acquired Randolf uniform nearly as it was. In other words: not cool and not the least bit put together.

Here she was, the first day of her new life, her finger rubbed raw and her future capsized. Her parents said she was being dramatic. Oh really? Was it dramatic to mourn the end of your life? Veronica Louise Morgan thought not. She was the smallest Morgan, sandwiched between two bigger Morgans who always sided against her. People in charge so rarely take responsibility.

At least there was Cadbury. She would see him this afternoon. Cadbury was the puppy that had arrived at Paws and Claws eight weeks ago. His face was the first thing Veronica thought about every morning and the last thing she imagined before she fell asleep at night. All summer she had asked her parents to buy him. They said, “Maybe.” But it turns out maybe is just a word that makes parents seem less mean before they say “We’ll see” and other time-stalling things parents say before they finally say “No” and “The discussion is over.” When she had children, Veronica decided, the discussion would never be over.

The idea of Cadbury being sold to people who could never love him as much as Veronica did was a thought worse than death. It was a crime she had to prevent. But first she had to get through her first day at the Randolf School for Girls.

Ugh.

Copyright © 2014 by Catherine Lloyd Burns