If they did, I'd have heck to pay. School was set to start back this Monday. I was already an outcast. I didn't need this hanging over my head. My confession had turned into a humiliation fest of epic proportions…
"But at least I didn't give him the letter," I said.
He obviously wasn't the one it was meant for. That was something at least.
Smiling, I said, "You know what, Hermione, you're a great listener."
A bark was my only reply.
"You want to get out of that cage and go outside?" Her tail was wagging before I even finished. "I think you deserve it for listening to all of my whining."
As I opened her cage, the big ball of fluff that was Hermione hurtled out of her cage and sat in front of me, waiting patiently while I attached her leash and gave her a scratch behind the ears. She was beautiful, a mix of brown and black brindle fur, smart eyes and a head full of crazy hair. She hadn't come with any papers. My boss had no idea about her parents, so mutt was as close as we could get to identifying breed. And I'd loved her right from the moment she'd come to the shelter two months ago. Despite her kind nature, she'd been here longer than most of the dogs, too long, and while I dreaded it, I kept hoping someone would adopt her and give her a great home.
After taking Hemione for a walk, I cleaned out some of the cages, re-filled water and food bowls, took a few more of the dogs out before saying goodbye to my boss and heading home. My work at the animal shelter was voluntary, but I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I loved animals, particularly dogs. My family didn't have any pets of our own. Mom was allergic to cats, and Dad was always on the go with the team, so usually it was just me at home. That was okay, though, because I got to spend time with the animals at the shelter, who'd just been dealt a bad hand. They were the misfits, loners just like me, and it was the highlight of my day taking care of them.
When I got home, the skies were a gorgeous mix of twilight purple, pink, orange and blue. I went immediately to shower—there were cats at the shelter, so this was my normal routine. Mom's allergies would flair up at the smallest sign of cat dander, so most days I took two showers, one in the morning, one at night. No big deal. It was necessary, and besides, the water relaxed me. Standing under the warm spray, I imagined the embarrassment of the day washing right off my skin and going down the drain.
Mom was in the kitchen when I came out dressed in my pjs.
"Hey," I said.
"Viola," she said, coming and enveloping me in a big hug. "How was your day? Anything interesting happen?"
I confessed my love to a boy—and it was a total disaster.
"Eh, not really," I said. "What about you?"
Mom smiled then led me to the table where dinner was already set up. Pizza. Yum.
"Well, I wrote a couple freelance articles that are due next week, got to edit some freshman papers in English 101 for grammar and formatting. It's always a party when you're an adjunct professor," she laughed.
I shrugged, pulling a slice onto my plate. "Were any of them good?"
"Yes actually, this one kid, Anton, wrote about Harry Potter and how Harry's life was drastically altered by his family dynamic with the Dursleys," she said. "His theory was that Harry might've never been the wizard we all know and love were it not for their cruelty toward him. If they'd treated him better, he wrote, Harry may have never wanted to go back to the wizarding world."
I thought it over. "Hmm, interesting idea, but I disagree."
"Ooh, I knew you'd have some thoughts about this." She raised her brows. "Go on."
"If they'd been nice to him," I said, "Harry still would've wanted to know the truth about his parents. He still would've insisted on finding out the truth about himself and the prophecy with Voldemort. Plus, what about the whole magical wizarding world? Can you honestly say that, even with a nice family, you'd be able to turn down the chance to go if your letter from Hogwarts came in the mail?"
Mom brought her hand up to her chin. "By owl express, you mean…"
We both shook our heads at the same time.
"See Mom," I said. "Harry Potter would've always been Harry Potter no matter what."
"Good point." Mom smiled and put her forehead to mine. "Have I told you lately that you're my favorite muggle?"
"I love you, too," I said.
Dad came in then and crossed his arms. He was still wearing his Durham High soccer shirt with the little soccer ball and "Coach Kent" emblazoned over his left chest.
"What's this?" he said with a frown, though I could see the twinkle in his eyes. The question was addressed to Mom. "If she's your favorite muggle, then what am I?"
Mom sighed. "Becks, we've talked about this. Viola is my favorite muggle. You're my Huckleberry. Always have been."
"And you're my girl, Sal. My heart. Always," he said simply, taking Mom's hand and kissing it.
I grimaced, but secretly loved when they were like this.
"So I guess it's okay that I'm no one's favorite muggle," he said, taking a seat between
