“I never saw Daddy fight with anybody before.”
“Like with the Marinos?”
“Yes. He never even gets mad, very much.”
Jesse nodded.
“You didn’t try to stop it,”
Candace said.
Jesse smiled. “He was winning,” he said.
“You wanted them to get punched up,” she said.
“I did.”
“Daddy boxed in college, you know.”
“I know.”
“Did you ever box?”
“I don’t box,” Jesse said.
“I fight.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Rules,” Jesse said. “How is it
for you at
school.”
“Sometimes Bo or Troy will, like, smirk at me when I pass one of
them. But they don’t say anything. A lot of the kids are great
about it. Some of the other boys, football players and stuff, they call me Centerfold.”
“Like Playboy
Centerfold,” Jesse said.
She nodded.
“That sucks,” Jesse said.
Candace shrugged. Jesse pulled off of Summer Street onto a narrow road that led down to Pynchon Pond.
Bob Valenti lived at the edge of Paradise in a small yellow house that backed up to the pond. The house was right next to the street, and the modest backyard had been enclosed with a wire fence. Jesse pulled his car up in front of the house. He parked without shutting off the engine, so he could leave the heater running.
“There’s Goldie,” Jesse said.
The vizsla was sitting in the back corner of the yard, motionless, looking through the fence. He saw the car and followed it with his eyes as it parked. He didn’t bark.
“Omigod,” Candace said. “The
poor thing.”
“Things will be better for him,” Jesse said.
“Yes,” Candace said. “I will
really take care of
him.”
“Remember,” Jesse said.
“He’s lost one owner, and is now
relocating again.”
“I never had a dog before,” Candace said.
“Your father said he did.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll be nervous for a while,”
Jesse said.
“But if I love him …”
“He’ll get over it,” Jesse said.
“I hope my mother isn’t mean to
him.”
“That would be a bad thing,” Jesse said.
