In the photography classroom, Daniel’s at our table with his head resting on his crossed arms. Fiona and Braden aren’t here yet. I sit next to him. “Hi,” I say quietly.
He doesn’t look up.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“What’s . . . where’s Chewbarka?”
“My basement.” He sits up and rubs his face, not looking at me. “Mom’s making me take her back to the vet as soon as I get home.”
I didn’t think my stomach could sink any lower. “Oh.”
“Tina left a voice mail saying to call her. But there’s no point calling back. Mom said Dr. Snyder . . . well. I guess he’s going to make sure Chewbarka’s really . . .” He swallows like he’s trying not to hurl. “Actually dead this time.” His voice is flattened out. He drops his head back onto his arms.
I want to touch his shoulder, to say he did everything he could and at least Chewy lived longer than she would have. But he’s so closed off, and I don’t know if it even matters that Chewbarka got to live an extra week, since her days were spent in a stinky tent. There’s nothing I can say that will unbreak Daniel’s heart, or mine. “Maybe . . .” I fold my hands under the table. “Maybe you could call Tina back, though?”
“No point.”
He’s probably right. He—well, we—did so much to try to save her, and none of it worked. We’ll just be disappointed again. “But . . . I don’t know. You could try?” I know hope is dangerous. But I can’t help feeling it.
I don’t think Daniel feels it. He shifts in his chair so he’s farther from me.
I touch his shoulder. I don’t mean to do it. It just sucks to see him so sad. I want to pull the pain out of him so he doesn’t have to feel it.
Fiona comes in and sees us. She gets a weird look on her face that I can’t read.
I drop my hand from Daniel’s shoulder and hug my stomach since I can’t hug him.
26
Heads on a Platter
Daniel
For the first time in my life, I’m too sad to cry.
It’s a tight fit in Frankie’s crate with Chewbarka. I’m folded up like a pretzel. But I feel 2 percent less bad crammed inside here. I can still smell Frankie in this flattened old dog bed. A little. When the breeze blows through the open basement window and stirs up the air.
My phone rings. I ignore it. I keep my eyes on the door that leads out to the patio under the deck.
I can’t go through that door. I’ve tried everything I can to save Chewbarka, and it came to nothing. Mom will be here in less than ten minutes. We’ll get in her car and she’ll drive me to Dr. Snyder’s office and . . .
Well. Maybe I’ll feel Chewbarka’s heart stop under my palm too. Like with Frankie.
Or maybe Dr. Snyder won’t let me be in the room when he does it. Probably he won’t.
Chewbarka licks my neck. It tickles like mad, but I’m so jammed into this cage that there’s nothing I can do to stop her. She licks her way up to just under my ear. I can’t help the laugh that comes out. It’s a tortured laugh, not a happy one.
The sound only encourages her. She wiggles up my shoulder, licking all the way, until her tongue is in my ear.
I twitch and bang my head against the crate bars. “Chewy, stop. Please.” I try to get her off me but I’m so tangled up that she steps on my face. Her paw slides off and her claw rakes my nose. My eyes smart at the sting.
I unfold and emerge from the cage like a jacked-up bat waking from hibernation. Chewbarka follows me out with a hopeful expression.
I look at my phone on the floor. The missed call was Tina. There’s another voice mail.
I feel the warmth on my shoulder where Ash’s hand was. He wanted to make me feel better. Even after I was a jerk at the tent and told him to leave. He still cares about Chewbarka.
About me.
He felt so bad about telling Bella that he let her out him so she wouldn’t find out where I was hiding Chewbarka.
I guess . . . the least I can do, maybe, is what Ash suggested and call Tina back.
It won’t do any good. But Ash thinks it might.
I listen to Tina’s second voice mail: “I’m sorry things happened the way they did. I’d really like to talk to you.”
I take a deep breath and hit the callback button. It only rings once before she answers. “Daniel?”
“Yeah.” My throat immediately closes up.
“Oh lord, I’m glad you answered!” Her raspy voice is comforting to hear. “Kid, I’m so sorry I left you in that mess. Are you okay?”
“No,” I choke. I want to tell her I’m sorry I got her fired, but my voice isn’t working.
“I realized a couple hours into the drive that I forgot the dog. I was so focused on getting to my girl, everything else went right out of my head. But I didn’t have your number and I was more concerned about what was in front of me than what was behind me.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeak out. “I got you fired.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who lied and tried to hide the dog.” She clears her throat. “Truth told, I was embarrassed to call you once my daughter got out of ICU and I realized a whole week had gone by. I felt so guilty for leaving you in that mess. You didn’t deserve to get stuck with my impulsive choice. You didn’t deserve for me to ignore my conscience and not call you. I’m real sorry about that, Daniel.”
“I—” I don’t know what to say. I think this is the first time an adult has apologized to me and meant it. “Aren’t you—you’re not mad at me that you don’t have a job now?”
She laughs her raspy smoker’s laugh. “Truly, it’s not your fault. Anyway, I been through a lot worse
