100 Puppies
by: Zach
It all started at the fall festival…
It was small-town sublime, and exactly what you’d expect: the pumpkins, the corn stalks, food vendors, crafts, and just a touch of brisk air pushing out any traces of summer.
Lola couldn’t tell you why she was downtown at the city square. If you asked her, she’d say she was forced to be there. Hurled into a van. Strapped down. And told to stop screaming. Lola was four years old.
By the time her dad parked the van alongside the town’s small park, she had calmed down. Not because she grew exhausted—with Lola, that’s not possible—but because she negotiated a slushy from “that truck with the penguin on it.”
The first hour was delightful. Lola’s mom and dad enjoyed a local pumpkin brew while chatting with friends as Lola played tag in a courtyard of leaves with her older brother and sister. However, Lola’s half-life was shorter than most kids her age. Once the sugar buzz from the slushy wore off, tag became a bore. She needed something with higher stakes. She tried scaling the Edwin Stanton statue—but failed. One, it was too tall. Two, her mother told her no. And finally, three, her dad told her the nearby cop would arrest her “for life” if she didn’t get off of it. That worked. The thought of doing hard time always worked on little Lola.
After that mission had failed, Lola’s attention locked onto a random boy frantically searching for something. She asked him what he was looking for. He told Lola that he was searching for coins to throw in the city fountain. He said that he heard it was magical and granted wishes.
Her eyes had lit up.
“Daddy,” she screamed from across the courtyard. “I need a coin. Now!”
“No, dear,” he responded without looking (and likely without hearing what she had asked for).
“But I really need one.” She was now on his side, tugging at his shirt. “It’s a magical fountain, and I want to make a wish.”
Her dad looked up at the large fountain in the middle of the town square. It was built to honor Veterans and make their small town, even if just for a small area, feel like a big city. Lola was too young to understand this now, but as she grew older, she would eventually learn one very important detail about growing up in a small town: though towns may be small, they are never in short supply of big dreams. And that was what made this particular fountain special. It was a place to physically throw your wish out into the world.
“Here, Lola.” Her dad pretended to put something in her tiny hand. “Use this. It’s my imaginary coin. It’s extra lucky.”
She rolled her eyes and stomped on his foot. “Dad. Give me a real coin.”
“Nate, let’s go.” He looked up to see his wife on the way to the van with the other kids. “You have Lola.”
He reached down to grab her hand. “Sorry, girl. It’s time to go.”
But by the time he had reached Lola’s level, she was gone, booking it to the fountain. When she reached it, her momentum nearly carried her over the edge. She braced herself on the fountain’s concrete lip and reached into the water, scraping the bottom, attempting to grab any coin within her short reach.
Lola was fast, but her dad was too. This was not his first rodeo. He knew that when Lola was in public, he had to move swiftly. People looked on as he lifted her from the fountain and threw her over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. She screamed. And clawed. And cursed at him with innocuous little-kid words. People looked on. He didn’t care, though. He even took the time to wave to his friends on the way to the van.
“Sir…” Lola’s dad felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see an older man. He wore a veteran’s hat and leaned into his wooden cane. His face was grandfatherly, full of calm and warm, half-smiles. The old man continued, “Would your daughter like a coin? I have a spare.” The man reached into a tiny draw-string bag and pulled out a silver coin—but Lola’s dad never stopped moving.
“Thank you, sir. That’s a very kind offer. But for the sake of this festival, it’s best I didn’t release this animal back into the wild.” Her dad smiled, then nodded to the old man. “Thanks again.”
It wasn’t easy, but after wrangling her into her booster seat, Lola would soon be buckled in the van, dejected in full acceptance of her fate. Their family was now secured, and it was time to return home.
Lola noticed her dad looking at her through his rearview mirror, so she snickered at him, scrunching her nose in retaliation. He just shook his head. The moment he looked away, she looked down at her clenched fist and smiled.
When they pulled onto their street, Lola quietly unbuckled herself. The second their van parked in their driveway, she opened the door and darted into the house. Ran into her bedroom. And slammed the door shut. She didn’t bother locking it because, in her mind, who would open a closed door?
Then, she looked out the window. Her family was still filing out of the van. Now that she knew she was safe, she opened her balled-up hand. A smile, a very ornery one, materialized as she looked at all the coins she had taken from the fountain. One by one, she counted them.
“Forty-eight,” she said out loud in disbelief.
(There were actually only seven coins)
She was transfixed. Carefully examining each one, not knowing that most of the coins were actually quite rare.
Knock. Knock.
Her mom barged in.
“Everything okay, Lola?” asked her mom. “You never rush into the house like that.”
Lola jammed the coins into her pocket and froze.
“Lola? What’s going on?” her mom pushed on. “Are you sick? Sad? Hungry?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes. I’m hungry. Make me a bagel!”
The rest of the day carried on as usual: playing, fighting, and eating way too many snacks. It was unknowingly the calm before the storm, because starting tomorrow, her week was about to get weird.
A couple of weeks prior, the kids held an end-of-summer lemonade stand. Besides fresh-squeezed lemonade, they each sold items of their choice. Lola’s brother sold Pokémon cards. Her sister sold bracelets. And Lola, she sold all the worst Pokémon cards and bracelets her siblings had allowed her to have (and a few more she managed to take when they weren’t looking). After a few hours of open shop, they made a mint. Each kid brought home over twenty dollars. What Lola didn’t tell her mom was that she kept all of her money and a few other prized possessions inside one of her stuffed animals, a cat she named Marie. What her mother didn’t tell Lola was that she was donating that stuffed animal to the Urban Mission on the Monday after the fall festival. And with that, Lola’s week of disasters was set in motion.
When Lola got home from school, the instant she walked into her room, she knew something was off.
“Mom, where’s Marie?” Lola yelled from her room.
“Who?” her mom yelled back from somewhere in the house.
“Marie!” Lola yelled back.
After more yelling, her mom finally arrived. “What are you saying now?”
“Where’s Marie? She was here before I went to school.”
Her mother mumbled under her breath—“You gotta be kidding me”—sighed, then said, “I’m sorry. I thought you hated that stuffed animal. So, I gave it away to someone who would love her very much.”
Tears began flowing down Lola’s cheeks.
“Didn’t you say that you hated her?” asked her mother.
“Yeah!” She cried. “I said that so no one would play with her.”
After more hysterical sobbing, Lola’s mother finally got the truth out of her, learning that all of her money “in the world” was in that stuffed animal. Her mom assured Lola that she would pay her back, but that wouldn’t work; there was other “treasure” inside of Marie, including a mood ring from the beach, a two-dollar bill from her friend Charlie, and “stuff” she couldn’t tell anyone about. Her mom said she’d try to get it all back, but that did nothing to calm Lola. Her life was ruined. Lola couldn’t wait for the day to be over, but that’s only because she didn’t know how much worse her week was going to get.
Tuesday started off fine. School was uneventful, and her spirits rose higher as she ditched her school shoes for soccer cleats. Out of all the things in her world, soccer made Lola extra happy. Even though they were in different age groups, it was a chance to outshine her older brother. On a good day, she’d score around six goals, while her brother might only score three to four. But, for whatever reason, those metrics got flipped on this fateful Tuesday night.
It wasn’t just that her older brother had scored ten goals. It was that Lola did the exact opposite in her game. She missed at least ten goals. Got hurt at least five times. Her shoes had such a hard time staying tied that her dad had to tape them together. And after the game, before Lola had a chance to get her snack, the team ran out. Much like Monday, this day had become a disaster—and her string of bad luck was far from being over.
Before she left for school on Wednesday, Lola spent the morning playing with her best friend, Millie, her cherished hamster. While at school, Lola pocketed the vegetables the school gave her at snack time. But when she went to give them to Millie later that night, the hamster was nowhere to be found. The only clue—a gaping hole with chew marks through the tunnel on the outside of the cage.
On Thursday evening, they tried to go on a family bike ride, but there was just one problem—Lola’s bike was missing. They searched everywhere, but no luck. All of their other bikes, even her parents’ expensive ones, were at the top of their driveway as usual. Only when they looked at the security camera did they confirm the unthinkable—someone, in the dark of night, had stolen Lola’s bike.
Then, on Friday, against all odds, Lola somehow woke up with chickenpox. It should have been impossible. Her parents asked AI how this happened. In a rare defeat, AI had no credible answer. Lola spent the rest of the day fevered, fatigued, and itching like a flea-ridden dog.
Lola’s chickenpox-covered head couldn’t process all that had gone wrong. If this week happened to an adult, they would either be eating, drinking, or praying their sorrows away. But what was a child to do when their world seemed to be falling apart? Defeated, she spent most of her time in her room, without her dog, and curled up on her beanbag.
“I don’t get it,” said Lola’s dad to his wife. “I understand having a bad week. But this is strange. Why’s everything just happening to Lola?”
His wife thought about it as she leaned against the kitchen island. “Well, to be honest, aside from all of this stuff, I’ve had a great week.”
“Me too. And the other kids seemed to be having a good week. When did it all fall apart for her? Was it after her soccer game?” asked Lola’s dad.
“Well, let’s see. Today was chickenpox. Before that, her bike was stolen, and she lost Millie. Tuesday was the worst soccer game in the history of the sport. Monday, she lost all of her prized belongings. What was Sunday?” She fiddled through her phone, looking at pictures. “Sunday was the fall festival.”
“Nothing bad happened then.” He paused to think a little harder. “I guess she had to be physically removed from the fountain. But before that, she seemed to have a great time.”
With her head still down, going through her phone, “Ah. I forgot to show you. Look at this video Terri sent me.” She held out her phone. A video played of Terri’s kids playing at the fall festival. Lola’s in the background with her hands in the fountain. She zooms in on the video. “Notice anything?”
Her husband grabbed her phone. Took a closer look. Then, he shook his head. “Was she taking coins from the fountain?”
“Yup! This was right before you snatched her and threw her into the van.”
“Ah, the joys of parenting,” said Lola’s dad, then laughed as he continued, “Only our kids would steal coins from a fountain.” He stopped laughing when he saw Lola eavesdropping from behind the corner of the hallway. “Lola, is everything okay?”
With long eyes, Lola looked back at her dad but said nothing. Then, she was gone. Just as her dad started to walk towards her room, Lola returned. She climbed on a stool, extended her balled-up hand across the island, then opened her hand. Coins rolled in all directions.
When she spoke, she kept her head down, refusing to make eye contact. “I took these from the fountain. After that, everything got bad. I’m sorry.”
A long silence followed. Her dad couldn’t help but smile, but he quickly swallowed it when he saw her chest huffing and puffing; she was on the verge of tears.
“Honey,” her mom put her arm around her, “it’s fine. No, you shouldn’t have taken them, but I’m happy you told us. You’ve just had a really, really bad week. It didn’t happen because you took the coins.”
Lola’s head shot up. She looked at her mom with electric eyes. “Yes, it did!”
While her mom comforted her, assuring her everyone has a bad week every once in a while, her dad ignored them. He was too focused on collecting all of the coins, examining each one very closely.
“Out of curiosity, why did you take them?” asked her mother. She likely knew the answer but wanted to hear it from Lola.
“Because I have a wish for the wishing fountain. But no one would give me a coin.” Lola threw her hands down, pouting as she stared intently at her dad.
“What was your wish, honey?” her mom asked.
As Lola started to respond, her dad interrupted, looking down at the handful of coins in his palm. “Lola, were all of these coins from the fountain? Or were some from another time?”
She bluntly responded, “Fountain.”
“Look at these.” He extended his hand to his wife, showing her the coins. “Most of them are from 1943. Isn’t that weird?”
His wife shrugged, then turned back to Lola. “How about this, sweetie. First thing tomorrow morning, we go to the fountain so you can return all of these coins. And then, I’ll give you another coin so you can make your wish. We can even get doughnuts after. How’s that sound?”
For the first time all week, Lola snuck a smile. She hugged her mom, then headed back to her room.
With his head buried in his phone, “Apparently, the 1943 coins are all steel cents. They made these pennies from steel since they needed the copper for WWII materials.”
“Strange. I wonder why they were all in the fountain,” his wife responded. Her husband started to speculate, but she didn’t care and interrupted him, “But more importantly, how about that? Our poor little girl thought that stealing the coins made her week turn bad. In a way, I don’t mind that. Shows she has a good heart.”
“What does it show about me that I want to keep these cool coins for myself?”
She wasted no time responding, “It shows I married a child.”
He smiled back. He’s okay with that assessment.
When they returned to the fountain the next day, the same old man was there from the fall festival, sitting on a small table drinking coffee. This time, he wore a Weirton Steel hat. He sat quietly, watching as Lola walked to the fountain and threw all of the coins back into the water.
Then, her mom handed her a quarter. She closed her eyes. Squinted until her head started to hurt. Smiled. Then threw the quarter into the fountain. Without saying anything, she grabbed her mom’s hand and walked back towards the van.
“That looked like a whole lot of wishes for a little girl,” said the old man.
“Actually, she was returning most of them,” said her dad. Then, he lowered his voice. “She took a handful out of the fountain the other day.”
The old man perked up. “Did you get a chance to look at the coins?”
“Yep. There were actually some cool ones I wanted to keep.”
The old man’s face grew wide with unease, then he half smiled. “Let me guess. You’ve had an eventful week, haven’t you?”
“What?” Her dad grew confused. “How did you know that?”
The old man looked around, confirming no strangers were within earshot. Then, he took out a small drawstring bag. “Were these what you returned?” He reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of pennies, all made of steel, all from the year 1943.
“Yes!” exclaimed her dad. “But I don’t get it.”
The old man took a deep breath. “Listen, I know this is about to sound crazy, but will you bear with me here?” Lola’s dad nodded. The old man continued, “Again, I know it sounds crazy, but these steel coins are magical. They’re tied to the workers who worked in the mill during the war. When someone uses them for a wish in this particular fountain, that wish comes true in some way, shape, or form. And when, say, a little girl,” he pointed to Lola, “takes a bunch of them out of the fountain, well, I’d presume she’s taking other people’s wishes. And based on a few curious past experiences, when someone takes someone else’s wish, the opposite of that wish happens.”
Lola’s dad looked at the old man as if he were the town’s crazy person. But her mom looked at Lola and immediately gasped. “Oh my goodness. Your chicken pox. They went away.”
The old man nodded. “Yep. Because she returned the coins. I’m guessing the original person wished for something like good health. So, your little girl got the opposite of that.”
With narrow, searching eyes, Lola’s dad looked at the man. “You don’t look crazy. I’ll give you that.” The old man smiled. Her dad continued, “But, hypothetically speaking, if what you are saying is true…why? Why here?”
“Beats the heck out of me. Do you think I speak fountain?” The old man laughed. “My best explanation is that this fountain was a way to help out the locals in a downtrodden town after the mill mostly shut down, as a gift for all their help during the war.”
Lola’s dad kept pressing. “And you say you don’t speak fountain, but how do you know all of this? Are you some special protector of the fountain?”
“Oh, no. I’m just a retired steelworker and veteran who likes helping people. Long ago, my deceased buddy, Oggie, God rest his soul, passed away. And at his funeral, I made a wish with one of these coins. A very specific wish. And lo and behold, it came true.”
Lola’s dad started to talk, but the old man interjected. “I’d love to tell you what my wish was, but I’m afraid that’s between me and my friend. I’d also love to give your daughter a wish,” he held out the steel penny, “but based on what I saw from her the other day, you may not be ready for what she wishes for.”
Everyone laughed—except Lola. She smacked the coin out of his hand. Her parents tried grabbing it, but Lola was too small and fast.
With the steel penny now in her hand, she took one step toward the fountain and threw it as hard as she could.
Her parents yelled, “Nooo!”
Even though they were over ten feet away, it was undeniable. The water splashed as the coin flew into it.
The old man, now with a stone-cold face, bent over to Lola. “Sweetheart, what did you wish for?”
Lola, with a menacing grin, turned to him and said, “One hundred puppies!”
