She wouldn’t kill him. Putting a dog in the ground was just too much. But if she made him sick and upset … let him know he wasn’t wanted around here, and that it might be best if he left …

She reopened the window and scrolled down to the section about poisons.

“I made something for dessert!” said Amy later that night, walking into the dining room holding a tray piled high with brownies. Mom and Dad beamed, genuinely surprised at the gesture.

Katie watched silently, still a little unsure of Amy’s intentions.

“Well, isn’t this wonderful,” said Mom as she moved the spaghetti bowl to make room. “You made these all by yourself? You should ask for help next time, honey. The oven can be dangerous.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” said Amy, putting the brownies at the center of the table.

Everyone took a brownie and began eating.

“Blecch,” said Katie, picking a little black dot from the side of her brownie. “Raisins?”

“Oh no,” said Amy softly. “I thought they’d taste good! I read somewhere that raisin brownies are a hot new thing this year, and …” She hung her head. “I’m sorry, guys. I guess I do need to ask Mom for help next time.”

“It’s okay,” said Dad. “They’re great! I actually like raisins. See?” He made a big show of eating the rest of his brownie.

Amy smiled half-heartedly. “Thanks, Dad,” she said. Mom patted her on the arm, and she played at looking disappointed. In her mind, though, she felt triumphant. It was all going according to plan.

Now, to see if step two worked.

After dessert, she sneaked a brownie from the kitchen. She’d done her research carefully—since Rover was a big dog, a small dose of chocolate and a few raisins wouldn’t hurt him seriously, and they certainly wouldn’t kill him. But they would make him sick. Just like he’d made the girl at the rest stop sick, and Valerie at the science fair.

She’d measured very, very carefully. Only half a square of chocolate. Only two or three raisins.

It would only make him sick. But it would definitely make him sick. And, hopefully, that would be enough to make him look for another family.

It wasn’t a nice thing to do, she knew. But it had to be done. For her, for her family.

Amy made sure Stormy was in her kennel, and then she put the brownie on the floor, whistled loudly, and hid around the corner, in the hallway.

A few seconds later, she heard the click of nails on the floor, and then Rover was there. The dog looked around, confused … and then he sniffed the air, and his muzzle slowly moved down to the brownie on the floor.

Take it, thought Amy. Eat it. Nobody’s watching. Mmm-mmm, delicious brownie.