Bad Bella Read online

  Dedication

  For all the good eggs

  who have ever been called bad ones.

  And of course for Bella,

  the very best dog I could ever ask for.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1.The McBrides

  2.The Meaning of Christmas

  3.The Pound

  4.The New Family

  5.The Not Fair

  6.The Land of Being Wanted

  7.The New Dog on the Block

  8.The Vet

  9.The Sky Is Falling!

  10.The Big News

  11.The Nursery

  12.The Awful Truth

  13.The Tree Returns

  14.The Escape

  15.The Park at Night

  16.The Little Blue House

  17.The Long Road Home

  18.The Rose Family

  Author’s Note

  One Last Thing . . .

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Ali Standish

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  One

  The McBrides

  Bella was the best of all the McBride children.

  She never said it, of course. She wouldn’t want to hurt the other children’s feelings.

  But she knew it was true.

  It wasn’t very hard, to be honest. She didn’t have much competition.

  The baby threw tantrums every night, her sister refused to do her chores, and her brother, who was the oldest, always left his muddy sneakers on the living-room floor and pulled away when Mrs. McBride tried to kiss him on the forehead.

  Bella did none of these things. She never woke the McBrides up in the night, even when she couldn’t sleep. She cleaned the crumbs from the kitchen floor every day without even being asked. She didn’t wear sneakers and would love to be kissed on the forehead, only it seemed like nobody had tried for a long time now.

  What’s more, Bella never whined about what was for breakfast or dinner. She didn’t get angry when her brother whacked her over her head with his stuffed dinosaur, or when her sister tied her ears together with an itchy pink bow.

  What more could anyone ask of a child?

  The McBrides had seemed pleased with Bella when they first brought her home (from where, Bella didn’t know—she assumed all children wondered this). They were always cuddling her or playing with her, and even sharing their popcorn with her on movie night.

  Popcorn, with extra butter, was Bella’s favorite food.

  But as the months went on and Bella grew bigger, they had started paying less and less attention to her and more and more attention to other things, like the television and their computers and their vacation plans for next summer.

  Well then, thought Bella, I must simply try harder to be a good girl.

  So she offered to play catch with Mrs. McBride to relax her before work, and always tried to lick her brother’s feet clean when they got dirty. When there was a thunderstorm outside, she curled up on Mr. McBride’s lap to keep him from being afraid. When her sister lost her teddy bear, Bella left her favorite toy—a rubber pig, only slightly covered in slobber—in her sister’s backpack to lift her spirits. And one night, when the baby was crying and no one woke up, Bella slipped into his room and left half a biscuit she had been saving in his crib, just in case he was hungry.

  But no matter how hard Bella tried to show the McBrides what a good girl she was, it never seemed to be enough. Mrs. McBride cringed at the sight of Bella’s tennis ball. Her brother jerked his feet away from Bella’s tongue. Mr. McBride scolded her to get off the couch. Her sister screamed when she found Bella’s pig. The baby probably would have thanked Bella if he had known how, but he didn’t. And anyway, Mrs. McBride had come in soon after Bella and thrown the biscuit in the trash before the baby had the chance to eat it.

  “Bad Bella!” each of them had cried. (Except the baby, of course.)

  Yes, Bella was the best of all the McBride children.

  Only no one seemed to know this but her.

  But I can’t get discouraged, Bella often told herself. If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that the McBrides loved her. Someday they would finally notice how good she was, and things would start to change.

  Then, one day, the tree came.

  And things did change.

  They got much, much worse.

  It’s not that Bella had anything against trees. Trees were fine, on the whole. They ranked in her top three places to go to the bathroom, along with the playground sandbox and the next-door neighbor’s prizewinning rosebushes.

  But everything might have been all right if it hadn’t been for the tree. The spindly, prickly, seasick-green tree that stood almost to the ceiling, casting a dark shadow over Mrs. McBride’s best rug.

  It was after the McBrides brought the tree into the living room that things went from bad to worse. So Bella felt there was a good chance that everything that came after only happened because of the tree.

  The day after its arrival, Mrs. McBride began talking on the phone all the time. She would huff and say things like “They’ll have to make do with the pullout couch,” or “We’ve always had turkey, and we aren’t going to switch to ham this year!”

  The thought of turkey or ham was lovely enough to make Bella sigh with contentment, but the frown on Mrs. McBride’s face only darkened.

  While she spoke, she would move items of furniture around and sweep the floor underneath. And then she might interrupt herself and say, “Would you look at all the hair Bella has shed? I could stuff a whole pillow with it. And that’s not even counting what I vacuum off my best rug every week.”

  Which made Bella feel very proud indeed.

  The other strange thing about Mrs. McBride was that she seemed to be swelling up like a balloon. Every day her stomach got rounder, and she would often pat it and call it “little one.” This made no sense because there was nothing little about Mrs. McBride’s stomach.

  Bella never said this, of course. She wouldn’t want to hurt Mrs. McBride’s feelings.

  Meanwhile, Mr. McBride would disappear for hours at a time and come home with piles of shopping bags, which he shoved under the bed or on the top shelf of the closet. (What, Bella wondered, is the point of buying new things if you aren’t even going to look at them?) And after the bags were put away, he was sometimes so tired, he forgot to take Bella for her walk.

  Walking Bella wasn’t the only thing Mr. McBride forgot. Mrs. McBride sometimes shouted at him about forgetting to take the trash out, and once refused to speak to him for a whole night after he forgot to pick her up from her doctor’s appointment.

  “Things have been so busy at work,” he said. “And with trying to get ready for the holiday and the new—”

  But Mrs. McBride slammed the door before he could finish.

  One night, after the other children had gone to bed, Mrs. McBride told Mr. McBride to water the tree. “It already looks dry, and we haven’t even decorated it yet,” she scolded.

  “I’ll do it,” Mr. McBride said wearily.

  But Mr. McBride did not do it. Instead, he fell asleep on the couch.

  Without taking Bella for her walk.

  Bella felt sorry for Mr. McBride. Mrs. McBride would be angry with him in the morning for forgetting to water the tree, which did, in fact, look dry as a bone (though nowhere near as tasty). But she also felt very sorry for herself. Her bladder was quite full, and she didn’t want to wait until morning to go to the bathroom. She would either have to wake up Mr. McBride or go on Mrs. McBride’s best rug, neither of which a good girl would do.

  Suddenly Bella had a much better idea.

  And even though s
he did not like the prickly, spindly tree, and all the slamming doors and raised voices the tree had brought with it, she tiptoed quietly over and sniffed it.

  It smelled like squirrel. Bella’s least favorite animal.

  Which just went to show.

  Bella was too tall to fit under the tree’s branches, but if she was very careful, she could just lift her leg high enough, as she had sometimes seen boy dogs do. She aimed for the trunk of the tree, which sat in an empty metal bowl. She couldn’t help but congratulate herself. None of the other McBride children would come up with such a good plan, she thought. This way, I get to go to the bathroom, and Mr. McBride won’t be in trouble in the morning!

  Just as she was almost done, Bella felt a hard tug at her collar. Her leg was suddenly jerked away from the bowl.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Mr. McBride, who must not have been quite asleep after all.

  The lights flicked on, and Mrs. McBride strode in, wearing her nightgown. “Is Bella doing what I think she’s doing?” she said. And then, her voice climbing higher, “My rug! My best rug!”

  Bella looked down to see a small puddle of yellow spreading through the cream-colored threads.

  “BAD BELLA!” the McBrides yelled together.

  And before Bella even had time to curl her tail between her legs, Mr. McBride had scooped her up around the belly. He gave a grunt of surprise as he lifted her. In the months since Bella had arrived at the McBrides’, no one had noticed how big she had grown.

  Mr. McBride carried her through the kitchen into the garage.

  “You stay here tonight and think about what you’ve done,” he said, before closing the door behind him and leaving Bella alone in the dark.

  Two

  The Meaning of Christmas

  Bella did think about what she had done.

  All night.

  How did it go so wrong? I only wanted to help. That’s all I ever want to do.

  In the morning, Mrs. McBride let Bella out in the backyard and gave her breakfast. But she didn’t speak to Bella, and she took her straight back to the garage afterward.

  So Bella thought some more about what she had done.

  All day.

  But what, exactly, did I do? she wondered. She loved Mr. McBride, of course, but it seemed to her that if he hadn’t pulled her away so suddenly, Mrs. McBride’s rug would have been just fine.

  When Mr. McBride finally opened the door to let Bella back into the house, he fixed her with a stern look. “We’re giving you another chance,” he said. “But you really have to behave this time.”

  Bella let out a sigh that fluttered through her long whiskers. When was someone going to see that she always behaved?

  Still, she was happy to be out of the garage, which was starting to feel very damp and cold. Her stomach was rippling with hunger, but when she walked into the kitchen, her food bowl was empty. Mr. McBride must have forgotten.

  Bella followed him into the living room and then stopped short at the doorway.

  While she had been in the garage, the McBrides had done something to the tree. It was strung with little lights that blinked blue, yellow, and other colors Bella could not quite make out. Strings of beads were draped over the tree, as well as tiny figurines of dolls and animals and snowflakes, which glittered and winked from the branches. It was beautiful.

  And there was the most delicious, buttery smell in the air.

  Bella’s favorite smell of all.

  Popcorn.

  There was popcorn strung on the tree!

  “Why is Bella staring?” asked her sister. “It’s like she’s never seen a Christmas tree before.”

  “That’s because she hasn’t, stupid,” said her brother.

  “Don’t call your sister stupid,” said Mrs. McBride.

  Bella’s brother muttered something that sounded like “stupid” under his breath.

  “I suppose it’s a treat for Bella,” said Mr. McBride, “since it’s her first Christmas.”

  Bella’s tail began to thump.

  Finally she understood! Mr. McBride hadn’t forgotten to feed her. And the McBrides weren’t angry at her at all. They were giving her the tree as a treat. Mr. McBride had just said so himself.

  They must have figured out that she was trying to help them and had finally realized what a good dog she was. They had only put her in the garage so they could surprise her with her first Christmas (whatever that was).

  Perhaps, Bella thought, “Christmas” means when someone realizes they haven’t paid enough attention to someone else and arranges for a special surprise to make it up to them!

  And perhaps the tree was not so horrible after all. The popcorn had covered up the smell of squirrel, and the lights had softened its prickly bristles.

  “It’s dinnertime,” announced Mrs. McBride, picking the baby up and leading the rest of the family to the kitchen. Bella didn’t move.

  “Are you staying out here to enjoy the tree?” Mr. McBride asked her.

  Bella thumped her tail yes.

  “All right, then,” said Mr. McBride. He patted her twice on the head and gave her a little scratch behind the ears.

  A scratch behind the ears! Bella couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. It felt wonderful.

  After the family had gone, Bella stared at the tree for a few minutes, trying to soak up its beauty. She heard the TV in the kitchen, which she knew meant that the family was eating. Finally she padded toward the tree, looking up at all the pretty lights and sniffing its wonderful new aromas.

  It wasn’t just popcorn on the tree. There were striped candy sticks, too, and chocolates stuffed into shiny wrappers. Bella wasn’t usually allowed to have chocolate, but regular rules probably did not count at Christmas.

  Her stomach growled again, and she couldn’t wait any longer. She balanced on her back paws and rested her front paws against the tree branches. She started by biting at a candy stick, which made a good appetizer.

  Then she moved on to the popcorn. She savored each delicate morsel and licked the salt from her lips afterward.

  It was like a game, trying to follow the fluffy trail that wound around the tree. Crisscrossing higher and higher.

  Until finally, Bella had to wobble on the very tips of her toes to reach.

  And then—

  CRASH!

  The tree toppled over.

  “What in the—”

  “Aaaarrgghh!”

  Bella turned to see the whole McBride family standing in the kitchen doorway. Mr. McBride let out an astonished yelp, and Mrs. McBride’s hand flew to her mouth. Bella’s brother was laughing, but her sister had started to cry.

  “Bella killed the tree!” she wailed. “Bella ruined Christmas!”

  “This is the last straw!” yelled Mrs. McBride. “We can’t deal with her anymore. Especially not when the little one comes.”

  Bella’s tail curled between her legs. What are they talking about? What’s “the last straw”? What is “the little one”?

  “We never should have let your brother bring her here!” Mrs. McBride continued, turning to Mr. McBride. “He’s the one who let his dog have puppies, but we’re the ones stuck with this mess.”

  She cast an arm out at the living room—which was, in fact, a mess.

  “You’re right,” said Mr. McBride. “I thought it would be a good idea, but—”

  Bella had already stopped listening. Nothing anyone was saying made any sense anyway. Her stomach had started to churn, and she wished she hadn’t eaten quite so much popcorn quite so quickly.

  “Do something!” Mrs. McBride yelled over the baby, who had also begun to cry. “Do something right now!”

  Mr. McBride reached for his coat and thrust his arms through its sleeves. He flung out a hand, grabbed his car keys, and then marched straight toward Bella.

  Bella tried to disappear under the tree.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Mr. McBride said. He reached through the scratchy branches and pulle
d Bella out. Then he picked her up and strode back through the kitchen, past Mrs. McBride, who was trying to calm the baby.

  “Where is Bella going?” her sister asked.

  But nobody answered. Her brother had gone back to watching television.

  “Eat your dinner,” Mr. McBride said wearily. “Bella and I are going for a little trip.”

  Mr. McBride carried Bella into the garage, but he didn’t put her down. Instead, he unlocked his car and bundled her into the back seat. Then he got in, slammed his door, and backed the car out of the garage.

  Bella let out a whimper of fear.

  “I’m sorry, Bella,” he said. “But this is the only way. It’s for the best. You’ll see.”

  What’s the only way? thought Bella. The best for who?

  Mr. McBride punched the radio on, and they sped away into the night. Cheery lights bobbed in the yards they passed, but they did little to comfort Bella. Her heart had begun to feel very funny indeed, all strange and splintery.

  Like it was starting to crack.

  Three

  The Pound

  When Bella awoke the next morning, she kept her nose tucked neatly into her tail and her eyes tightly closed.

  I wish that yesterday was just a terrible dream.

  I wish that when I open my eyes, I’ll be back home with the McBrides.

  It was possible, wasn’t it? The cold concrete underneath her could be the McBrides’ garage floor. The metal clatter she heard in the distance might be Mrs. McBride preparing breakfast for everyone.

  Bella allowed one eye to flutter open.

  And found six eyes staring back at her.

  The fur on her neck bristled as she scrambled to her feet. Three dogs watched her in silence.

  One was scruffy and round with crooked whiskers. A second had droopy ears, droopy eyes, and a droopy belly. And the third was the size of a small horse.

  Bella’s gaze darted back and forth, taking in her surroundings.

  She remembered that when Mr. McBride had left her in this awful place last night, a woman she didn’t know coaxed her into a small crate and left her there for a long time. Such a long time that Bella had finally fallen asleep. It had been a very long day.