“Sorry to hear it.” I know she’d rather curl up on the couch with a book and a mug of tea.
“At least I don’t have to volunteer at a swim meet this weekend.” She glances guiltily at Mitchell’s closed door. “Don’t tell him I said that.”
“I won’t.” Tempting, after how bad he always tries to make me feel for spending time with Dad without him. But I don’t need to play his game.
Mom runs her hand over her black ponytail with its gray streaks, fills a glass with water, and glances wistfully at the coffeemaker. Dad’s the coffee drinker, not her, but she loves the smell of it. Now the kitchen smells only of the lemony bleach wipes she cleans with every day.
Sadness leaks out of the silence. I wonder what shape it is. How Ash would draw it.
I take the bag of food and leave.
9
Punk and Pricey Diapers
Ash
I wake up like a shot with a dog tongue so deep in my ear it’s practically licking my eardrum. “What the cuss!”
Chewbarka seems to translate this to Yay, it’s playtime! because she does that bark-and-turn-in-a-circle thing again. A little spray of pee shoots out around her.
“All right, outside with you.” I shimmy out of my sleeping bag and discover the whole edge of it is damp. Looks like I’m doing laundry later.
The cool morning air smells sweet and fresh when I open the tent. It makes me realize how bad it smells inside, even with all the windows open. I set Chewbarka on the ground. She waddles over to a tree, dripping pee all the way. I yawn and tie my hair back. I look like a dude this way, but there’s no one around and I want it out of my face.
Chewbarka returns and sniffs at a plastic bag next to the tent door. I pick it up and find it’s full of food. I check my phone and find a text from Griffey asking what the heck I’m doing that needs a cover story, and one from Daniel from 8:41. It’s almost ten now. Brought you some breakfast, Daniel’s text says. I’m at the kennel. If you need to go home, go ahead. I’ll let Chewbarka out when I’m done. THANK YOU AGAIN, you’re the all-time greatest ♥
I stare at the purple heart for way too long. Then I pocket my phone and dig into the food, trying to push away my dread about lunch with Dad today.
Mom’s been on me about going to a PFLAG meeting with her tomorrow and I know she’ll bring it up the minute I get home. I leave my sleeping bag in a patch of sun to dry, then slip Chewbarka’s leash around her neck and head out to the road. It seems weird that she doesn’t have a collar or tags. I’m sure there’s a good reason, though. Maybe Tina took them off while Chewbarka was in the cage at the vet so they didn’t get stuck on the bars.
There’s a PetSmart in the strip mall out on the main drag where we got Booper’s food the week we moved to Oakmont. I check my pocket and find six bucks, all that’s left of the twenty Mom gave me for lunch a week ago. I don’t know how much dog diapers cost. Probably more than six bucks.
As soon as we’re out of the woods, a text from Mom comes in. Noticed when I went out for groceries that Sir Reginald Bevis isn’t in the bike rack. You and Griff out terrorizing the town?
More like terrorizing the Frisbee golf course at the park. I bite my lip. I don’t like lying to her. I’ve done it way too much since yesterday.
Your helmet’s still in your room. Make sure you wear it next time, please.
Oops. Sorry.
I keep an eye on my screen as I walk, but she doesn’t say anything else. I sigh in relief and pocket my phone. After a few minutes of walking, I notice Chewbarka has a limp. I pick her up and carry her. By the time we’re at the store, my arms feel like lead, so I put her back down.
It takes two seconds of shopping to confirm that dog diapers are out of my budget. I find a bin of discount treats wrapped in plastic, take one, and head for the checkout.
A German shepherd on a retractable leash comes around a shelf and Chewbarka freezes. I quickly scoop her up to avoid another dogfight. The shepherd is followed by a girl from my English class who’s wearing a Snarky Carcasses shirt. I’m pretty sure her name is Zoey.
“Rex, quit pulling!” she says as she attempts to reel her dog in. She looks up and sees me holding Chewbarka away from Rex’s sniffing nose. “Sorry, just a sec!” She tugs Rex back in and finally gets the leash locked. “Sit, Rex!”
Rex obediently sits next to her foot. He raises his paw like he wants to shake my hand, but I can’t really take his paw. Chewbarka is shaking like a leaf.
“Good boy,” Zoey tells Rex as she pushes her blonde hair out of her eyes. She’s one of the few girls at Oakmont who has short hair, and she’s a total dude magnet because of her, uh, build. “What’s your dog’s name?” She tries to pet Chewbarka’s head but Chewbarka ducks away.
“Booper.” I mentally facepalm. “I mean Chewbarka. Booper’s my beagle. This dog isn’t actually mine. I’m—uh, dog-sitting.”
Zoey laughs, but not in a mean way. “So is this one Barka or Chewbooper?”
“Chewbarka.” She’s trying to climb up to my shoulder. “She’s not great with other dogs.”
“Aw, poor thing. Rex is big, but he’s really chill with other dogs.”
Chewbarka scratches my neck with her frantic paws. “Can you translate that into dog and tell her?”
“Arwoo-arf bark bark awooo!” Zoey says. “Good dog,
