The rest of the girls stand and, like a swelling wave, we move into the spotlight. I look out at the faces looking up at me. Some look curious. Some look bored. Some look like they’re trying to figure out why in the world they should listen to what I have to say. I hear Mama’s voice from this morning say, “Everyone loves a good story, Piper. Especially one with a dog in it.”

I feel my friends behind me. I relax a little. I take a deep breath. “Hi, I’m Piper Trudeau and I have a story to tell you.”

“What kind of story?” some kid in the front says.

“A story about a dog and an old woman and brownies and making a difference,” I say.

“Can you believe we ran out of order forms?” Fire says for the millionth time as we walk home in the snow.

“I purely can’t,” I say.

Karina grins. “You’re a born storyteller, Piper.”

A smile lights up all my insides. I’ve always said my superpower was selling Firefly Gourmet Brownies, but now I’m thinking it might really be in telling a story.

Daria does a happy little skip. “Your mom’s going to have to get more forms and more boxes of brownies.”

Karina nods. “I’ll let her know as soon as we get home.”

My heart is not quite light enough to skip, though.

“I just hope everybody gets their order forms and money back by the end of the week,” I say. “We’re starting to run short on time.”

“Aw, don’t be such a wet blanket,” Fire says. “Everything’s going great. Jewel’s going to move to Heartwell Manor, Baby’s going to be her special emotion dog, and they’ll live happily ever after.”

I kick at a plastic bottle. “Mama talked with Jewel’s caseworker yesterday morning.”

“And?” Karina asks, eyeing me.

“And,” I say, not looking at them. “The hospital has agreed to keep Jewel for one week while her medication starts working again.”

“But?” Karina asks, stopping.

I sigh. “But, that’s the longest they can keep her there. If she doesn’t have a place to go by Thanksgiving, she has to leave anyway.”

“Where to?” Fire asks.

“Most likely to the emergency shelter,” I say.

“But if Baby is her emotional support animal, he can go there too, right?” Daria asks.

“No,” I say. “The emergency shelter has different rules for emotional support animals than service dogs.” I sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“All the more reason to tell their story the best we can, then,” Karina says.

When Daddy gets home from work, he grins and hands me a big wad of money. There must be a million ones and fives and tens, even a few twenties!