For Cleopatra

  I miss you, kitty cat

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Teaser

  About the Author

  Copyright

  “What’s your favorite animal in the whole universe?” Olivia asks me dreamily.

  “A dog, obviously,” I reply, my eyes closed. “Like that’s even a question.”

  She’s asked me this before, lots of times. It’s our favorite topic of conversation. We’re in our neighborhood park, lying flat on a picnic table with our legs dangling down the sides. I’m in the middle. My best friend, London, is on my left side. Our new friend, Olivia—who moved to California a week ago—is on my right. All I can see is the blue sky above me, with puffy white clouds and a tiny airplane.

  What a perfect way to spend summer break.

  Our plan: to have the Most Awesome Summer Ever, full of food and fun and animals. Lots and lots of animals.

  I can’t believe that fifth grade is over, and so many exciting things have already happened. It’s all thanks to our new pet-sitting business, Must Love Pets. Last week, we took care of our first client, Sir Teddy, an adorable golden retriever belonging to our neighbor Mrs. Jarrett. Sir Teddy is my dream pet, but he’s also a devious escape artist. He made my little brother, Amir, sneeze and my grandfather Dada Jee super annoyed, and finally he got lost. Since we’re amazing pet sitters, we organized a neighborhood search party and found him.

  And then the three of us had our first ever sleepover, so I guess everything turned out pretty perfect. Right?

  Right.

  “Your mom still won’t get you a dog, Imaan.” This is from London, who’s known me (and my mom) since we were in preschool. She could be right. Mama has told me forty-four times that we will absolutely not be getting a pet. Ever.

  That’s not going to stop me from trying, though. “That’s why we started Must Love Pets, remember?” I say cheerfully. “To show my mom how responsible I am.”

  “You’re so responsible,” Olivia says in a soothing voice. “Who would doubt you?”

  I giggle. “Mama. And Dada Jee.” Then my smile fades a little. “And maybe even me sometimes.”

  London turns to look at me. “We don’t doubt you,” she says seriously. “We know you can do it. By the time summer ends, we’ll have taken care of so many pets your mom will call you Miss Responsible.”

  I give her a grateful look. London is always on my side, no matter what. “Thanks,” I say, trying to get my cheerfulness back. Sometimes I feel sad for no reason, like when I remember my dad, who died of brain cancer when I was little, or when I think of that perfect dog just waiting for me to bring him home. But the sadness never lasts too long. My friends are always there to push me back into happiness.

  Olivia nudges me from the other side. “Imaan the Responsible. Like a knight in medieval times.”

  I pretend to groan. “Seriously? That’s the worst name ever for a knight in shining armor.”

  “What? Being responsible is super important.”

  She’s right. I try to be the best big sister, the best granddaughter, and the best daughter a mother could have, even though Mama can be annoyingly strict sometimes. I clean up every day, and distract Amir when he’s in one of his hyper moods. I even help Dada Jee with his lemon trees.

  “Imaan the Responsible,” I repeat to myself. It’s not too bad. I could get used to it.

  I go back to smiling. Lying on this picnic table between my two friends, planning out the summer, feels so good.

  “I can’t wait to take care of another dog,” I say dreamily. “Maybe we’ll get a Chihuahua this time. They’re so cute!”

  “Or one of those mini dogs you can take around in your giant designer purse!” London says with a snort.

  Olivia shakes her head. “We already had a dog. I hope we get a different animal this time.”

  “Like what?” I ask. “A rooster? A piglet?”

  “Ooooh, maybe a snake!”

  I shiver in pretend disgust. No way am I pet sitting a snake. Then Olivia says, “Pigeons!” and London shudders like there’s one right next to her. She’s not a big fan of birds. We come up with more weird pets, laughing at one another’s guesses.

  Finally, London sits up with a little frown. “How will all these pet owners even know about us?” she demands. “We need to go put up those flyers we brought.”

  She’s right, of course. We found our first client, Sir Teddy, because he lives right next door to us. Mrs. Jarrett had to go to the hospital for an emergency and left us in charge of Sir Teddy. I like to think of it as fate. Kismet. Meant to happen.

  I also know we can’t rely on things like that happening all the time. If we want to have more pet-sitting clients in the future, we need to let people know we exist.

  Olivia sits up too. “Good idea. My back is stiff.”

  We climb down from the picnic table. Olivia picks up her camera and starts taking pictures of the trees in the park. She’s always doing that, aiming at something very ordinary and taking dozens of pictures with a click-click-click. The pictures always turn out ah-mazing!

  I lean into her to look at the camera’s display window. “Oh, that came out really nice,” I tell her. It’s a picture of a squirrel on a low branch, eating an acorn. The squirrel’s eyes are huge and gleaming, and it looks close enough to touch.

  “Thanks.” Olivia shrugs and quickly puts away her camera. She’s not convinced of her talent yet.

  I roll my eyes at her and grab my backpack. It’s filled with flyers we, and Amir, made several days ago. We walk over to the big community bulletin board at the park entrance, and I find an empty space to tack on a couple of flyers. Must Love Pets. Best Pet Sitters in the Neighborhood! We’ll Care for Your Pets Like Our Own. Call Us Today.

  The number on the bottom is my home phone number.

  “I hope I get lots of calls,” I say. Our home phone hardly ever rings unless it’s a telemarketer selling Florida vacations or a new credit card. But now that we’re giving out my number for the business, I’m hoping it rings nonstop, making Dada Jee scowl at it.

  “I hope we get one call at a time,” Olivia replies. “Pets are a handful, you know.” She’s our pet expert, since she’s always pet sitting her aunt’s dog.

  London stands nearby, handing out flyers to adults who’re walking around the park with their kids. “We’re very affordable,” she tells a lady with a baby stroller. “And we have great references from Mrs. Jarrett, who lives down the street.”

  The lady smiles and takes a flyer. “What a wonderful idea for a summer project, girls!” she says. “I don’t have a pet, but I’ll pass this on to my friends.”

  “It’s a real business, not a summer project!” London calls after her, but she hurries away with a wave.

  As we leave the park, I remember what London had said a few minutes ago. “Affordable.” I repeat the word a few times, liking the way it sits on my tongue.

  London turns to me. “Yeah, so?”

  “I guess we still need to work out some things for Must Love Pets,” I reply. “Like how much we’ll charge our customers. And how we’ll divide the money we make.”

  Olivia snaps her fingers. “Oh, we also need to get a written testimonial from Mrs. Jarrett. Something about how great we were with Sir Teddy.”

  I know what that means. I head toward my house, also known as Must Love Pets headquarters. “We need another team meeting, pronto!”

  When we reach my house, it seems empty. Not for long, though. We’ve just collapsed on the living room couch when I hear the garage door open with a mighty groan. The next minute, Mama and Amir enter the house. Well, Mama enters like a normal person. Amir rushes inside like a hurricane with a mop of black hair and bright eyes.

  “We went to the doctor!” Amir shouts. “He stuck a thousand needles in me!”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Really? A thousand?”

  He nods proudly. “Yes, I counted.”

  Since he’s only six years old, I doubt he can count that high. I ruffle his hair as we all go into the kitchen. “Whoa!” I say, spying the big buckets of lemons lined up on the floor. Dada Jee grows lemon trees in our backyard and is a little bit obsessed with them. Still, he usually stores them on the patio outside.

  “Are those …” Olivia begins, her eyes round.

  “Don’t ask.” Mama glares at the buckets.

  I sigh impatiently. We have more important things to worry about than Dada Jee’s gardening habits. “What happened at the allergist?” I ask Mama.

  Amir had sneezed nonstop the whole time Sir Teddy was with us, and Mama thought he was allergic to dogs. If that’s true, it means really bad news for my pet-ownership dreams. I cross my fingers tightly behind my back and wait for Mama to tell us what the doctor said.

  Mama gives the lemons a last glare, then turns away. “What should we have for lunch, girls?” she asks, opening the fridge door. “I can ma ke pasta if you’re all staying.”

  “Mama!” I say loudly. “What happened at the allergist?”

  “Yeah, Mrs. Bashir,” London adds, giving me a warning look. “We’re all dying to know if Amir got a thousand needles or not.”

  “I did!” Amir protests, looking offended.

  “Well, then, did you cry like a big baby?” I tease.

  That annoys him in a major way. “Mama!”

  “Imaan, don’t be mean to your brother,” Mama’s voice floats out from the fridge.

  “I’m just stating facts,” I protest. “He always cries when he gets his shots.”

  Olivia gives Amir a hug. “They’re just being silly, cutie pie,” she tells him. “I’m sure you were really brave!”

  Mama finally comes out from the fridge. She’s got a jar of Alfredo sauce and a packet of shredded cheese in her arms. “He was very brave!” she tells us. “The doctor did a skin test. They just scraped the surface of his back a tiny bit.”

  “And?” I prompt. I’m practically jumping up and down with the need to know. Why can’t she just tell us?

  Mama gives me a disapproving look. “It was inconclusive.”

  “Inconclusive?” I repeat. What does that mean?

  “That means they’re not sure,” London adds helpfully.

  “Thank you, London.” Mama smiles slightly. “The skin test came back negative,” she continues. “Which means no allergy.”

  My heart jumps in my chest. I want to shout with joy, but I make do with a gigantic grin. This is awesome news! Amir isn’t allergic to dogs. That means one day—maybe—I can get a dog of my own. Of course, I still have to convince Mama and Dada Jee, but at least they have one less reason to say no.

  London and Olivia are also grinning. We give one another little high fives behind our backs.

  Wait, Mama looks stern, though. “Why aren’t you happy?” I ask suspiciously.

  She puts the sauce and cheese on the counter and leans forward with her elbows. “Since Amir was sneezing so badly, the doctor thinks maybe he’s really allergic in some way. If not to the dog, then to something on the dog, like pollen or dust.”

  Olivia frowns. “So how will you know?” she asks. “It could be anything in the world.”

  Mama nods. “You’re right. I suppose we just wait and see if it happens again.”

  Our grins fade. I want to stomp my foot. This is so not helpful. I wish I could find out right away. Not knowing is way worse than knowing something bad.

  Amir pulls at my arm. “Want to see where I got the thousand needles?”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” I reply. But I give him a quick hug. “Good job on being brave, buddy.”

  Amir hugs me back, then runs out of the kitchen, shouting, “Hey, Dada Jee! You know how many needles I got today?”

  “Tell your grandfather to move these lemons out of my kitchen!” Mama calls after him.

  Olivia giggles. Mama sighs and straightens up from the counter. “Lunch, everyone?” she asks, waving the Alfredo jar in front of us.

  London nods quickly. “That’s good, Mrs. Bashir. We all love pasta.”

  I’m not sure that’s true, since we haven’t known Olivia long enough to know her list of favorite foods. But she gives a thumbs-up and a big smile, which makes Mama smile a little too. “Pasta it is, then,” she says. “Come down in thirty minutes, please!”

  “Do you need help?” I ask, remembering how I’m supposed to be Responsible Imaan.

  Mama literally pushes us out of the kitchen, saying, “I just need some quiet time.”

  We head to my bedroom and settle on the shaggy rug on the floor. I’m still thinking about what Mama said. “Ugh, allergies suck.” I sigh. “Especially if you don’t even know what’s causing them.”

  London taps a finger on her chin. “We can use Must Love Pets to check different allergies. Whenever we get a new pet, we’ll just note if Amir’s sneezing or not. We can even compare which animal makes him sneeze more or less.” She snaps her fingers. “We’ll make a report.”

  London is a big fan of reports. She watches a lot of Shark Tank and she’s already half a businessperson at age ten.

  “Good idea,” I reply. If anyone can get to the bottom of Amir’s mysterious sneezing, it’s London.

  I reach into my desk and grab some paper and pens. In a few minutes, we’re deep in planning. And giggling. And talking.

  I start to get that happy feeling in my chest again. No matter what anyone says, I’m taking Amir’s negative allergy test as a win. At least he wasn’t sneezing because of me and my pet dreams.

  Yup, this summer is definitely going to be awesome.

  * * *

  We’re eating a delicious Alfredo pasta lunch when the phone rings. Not Mama’s cell phone, but the landline in the hallway that nobody ever uses.

  We all freeze and look at one another. “Just ignore it,” Dada Jee growls. “Nobody interesting calls on that phone.”

  London stands up. “That’s our business line,” she says.

  I grit my teeth. It’s not like Must Love Pets is a secret, but Mama and Dada Jee both get identical annoyed looks whenever we mention it, so I try not to.

  “Business line?” Mama echoes faintly.

  “We gave that number to a few people,” I reply vaguely, thinking of all the flyers we’d made last week.

  “Then you better answer the phone before we all lose our hearing,” Dada Jee grumbles, going back to his pasta. He’s put red pepper flakes on it and lots of garlic powder. Yuck.

  Olivia kicks me on the shin. I move so fast, my chair almost falls over. I jump over a bucket of lemons and charge to the phone, turning slightly as I pick up the receiver. London and Olivia crowd right behind me, eyes wide open. Mama and Dada Jee peek from the doorway. Amir is the only one still sitting at the kitchen table, eating his pasta.

  “H-hello?” I whisper. I’m 99 percent sure it’s someone selling car insurance. Or maybe a wrong number. I tell myself not to get my hopes up.

  London elbows me. “Louder,” she whispers. “Customer service, remember?”

  I clear my throat and stand up straighter. “Hello?” I say brightly. “This is Must Love Pets. How can I help you?”

  Over the phone, I hear a loud crash, followed by meowing. Then a man’s voice in my ear growls, “Come down from there!”

  Mama is staring at me like she’s never seen me before.

  Dada Jee’s leaning on his cane, eyebrows bunched over his eyes like he’s trying to understand what’s going on.

  Olivia and London are on either side of me. They’re literally leaning forward until their ears touch the phone.

  I push them a little, and they get the message. “Sorry,” Olivia whispers.

  The man comes back to the phone. He sounds young and stressed out. “Sorry about that,” he says. “My name’s Carl. I’m calling about your pet-sitting service.”

  I swallow. I know nothing about answering business calls. This is too weird. Then I remember how Mama talks on the phone when she’s in her home office. “Yes, how are you?” I ask. “My name’s Imaan and I’m in customer service.”

  Next to me, Olivia giggles a little under her breath.

  “I’m fine,” Carl says. He takes a deep breath, then lets it out in a whoosh. “Well, actually, I’m not fine, because I have to travel unexpectedly for work. It’s last-minute, and I have a plane to catch tomorrow.”

  He sounds really worried. “Let me guess,” I say. “You have a cat that needs taking care of while you’re gone?” We can do this, I remind myself. This is easy.

  Carl coughs. “Not one cat,” he says. “Three.”

  “Three?” I squeak. The sounds I’d heard on the phone make more sense now.

  Mama’s eyes grow big, and she starts to shake her head frantically.

  I turn away from her. I know what she’s thinking. We had enough trouble with a single dog last week. There’s no way we can take care of three pets. Her panic couldn’t be more obvious if it were a neon sign over her head.

  Carl continues. “Yes, three kittens. They’re eight weeks old, and I’m fostering them. Please, can you help? My mom’s friend Cora Jarrett told my mom you girls took great care of her dog.”

  “Oh, that’s nice of her.” I’m still thinking. Eight-week-old kittens don’t sound too bad.

  “Kittens are so fun,” he says. “Cute and cuddly and really no trouble at all. You’ll have fun, I promise.”

 

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