It was the hottest day that summer. Mama and Daddy were both at work, and old Mrs. Dewberry was supposed to be watching me, but really she was sitting in a chair in front of the television, snoring up a racket. I didn’t mind when she slept, though. She was real annoying and smelled like cats. Henry and me - that’s my dog, Henry - were sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the sidewalk, waiting for something to happen.


Henry wasn’t a small dog. He was real hairy and his tongue was always sticking out. He was a friendly dog. He loved people. And he followed me everywhere, just so he could see everyone.


But Henry’s favorite thing was ice cream. He loved any kind of ice cream. And that’s what we were waiting for. The ice cream truck.


I could hear Mrs. Dewberry’s snoring through the screen door getting extra loud when the ice cream truck finally came. Henry and I hopped off the steps and ran to the truck, but I guess that’s what all the other kids in the neighborhood we’re doing, too, because there was already a line by the time we got there.


Like, I said, it was the hottest day that summer, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when I asked for one lemon popsicle and one chocolate cone that Mr. Johnson said there weren’t any lemon popsicles left. Henry got his chocolate ice cream in a cone, but when I found out there were no more lemon popsicles, I felt downright depressed and decided not to get anything.


I was sitting on the porch steps again with Henry when someone started walking towards us. This person was a boy and he looked to be about my age, maybe a little shorter than me. He was holding two things, something in each hand.


When he finally reached Henry and me, he held out his left hand and said, “Here.”


It was a lemon popsicle. And in his other hand, a lemon popsicle.


“How did you get these?” I asked him when he sat down beside me on the steps.


Henry stared at him for a bit, then went back to licking the chocolate ice cream cone I was holding for him.


“I bought two. I was first in line.”


“Why’d you buy two?”


He shrugged. “I figured I’d take one home and save it in my freezer for later. But I saw you and thought you needed it more.”


“Well, thanks,” I told him, and we both went to licking our popsicles.


“My name’s Jon Miller,” he said.


“I’m Ellie.”


And maybe it was just because it was the hottest day that summer, or because it was the first time I met my best friend, but it was the best popsicle I ever tasted.