She ruffles my hair. “You’re wearing running clothes.”
“Yeah, I am.” I bite my lip. It felt so good to run. And I miss being part of a team. My teammates were okay, even if the coach insisted on jamming me into a label that didn’t fit. But I’m rethinking this whole “labels” concept. And anyway, like Mom said, things are different at Oakmont. “I might be considering that cross-country thing after all. If it’s not too late.”
“I’m beyond glad! I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“You said that.”
“Get used to hearing it. You’re awesome times infinity.” She kicks off her boots.
“Argh, no! Put ’em back on!” I cover my nose.
“I made a resolution on the way home. I’m gonna quit trying to drive your life for you so much.” She stands and picks up the boots. “You’re figuring it out on your own. You don’t need my help.” She smiles, but she looks sad too.
“I’m sure I’ll still need advice.” Especially about boys. One boy specifically.
“Then I’ll try to give it without telling you what to do.” She squeezes her stanky boots and does a little happy dance. “What do you want for dinner? There’s leftover soup.”
I glance at my dark phone screen. “I don’t think I’m hungry yet.” I’m not so wild in the head about Daniel’s mystery text anymore after feeling like I figured out an important part of being human. I don’t feel like I need Daniel to answer.
But I sure would like him to.
My stomach growls. “On second thought . . . can we split a pot of mac and cheese?” It’s been my favorite meal since I was old enough to hold a spoon. No matter what gender I am, that salty, gooey, all-natural fluorescent orange goodness hits the spot. Especially after a run.
“With grapes and Goldfish crackers. You got it.” Mom gives me one more hug. “Phew, go take a shower while I cook. You have onion pits.”
“You have vinegar foot.”
“The family that stinks together sticks together!” She laughs. “That’s my next cross-stitch.”
I tug a strand of her green hair and follow her out of my room.
28
Doofy Floof
Daniel
Time busts a freaky warp maneuver while I wait for Tina to call me back. Every minute lasts a thousand years. I walk Chewbarka behind the strip mall and gas station, staying out of sight of traffic. Wishing I’d grabbed a coat because good lord, it’s cold. Mom texts and calls incessantly until I text back, I’m sorry, I need some time to deal with this, then temporarily block her. By the time Tina finally calls two hours later, I feel like a grizzled old man, only moving so I don’t keel over and die of angst and coldness.
“They finally got hold of Iris, their lady who fosters medical rescues,” Tina says. “She’s at work and couldn’t answer her phone. She can take Chewbarka. But she’s not gonna get home till midnight. Can you keep the dog that long and get her to Iris’s house over in Greenboro?”
“Yes,” I say immediately, even though I have no idea how I’m going to get to Greenboro at midnight. It’s on the outskirts of the suburbs, at least a twenty-minute drive—way too far to walk, and there’s no way I can go home for the bike and trailer.
“Great,” Tina says. “You got something to write with? I’ll give you the address.”
“I’ll put it in my phone.” I open my notes and tap in the address Tina gives me. “Got it.”
“I’d give you a lift but I told my friend Carla I’d drive her to work at the Ford plant. They might have a third-shift spot till I can find another vet job.”
“Good luck. I hope it works out.”
“Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes at Iris’s. I’ve met her a couple times at adoption events. She don’t take any crap, but she loves dogs more than anybody I know.”
“I will. And thank you. Times a million to the millionth power.”
“Don’t thank me, kid. I got you stuck in this mess in the first place.”
“But you saved Chewbarka. So thanks for that. From her.” And me. Even though I’m in the hottest water of my life on this cold night, about to be in even hotter water with Mom and Dr. Snyder, it’ll be worth it if I can save this dog.
And I’m so close.
We end our conversation and hang up. “Well, fuzzball, looks like you get to live,” I tell Chewbarka. I scoop her into a hug. “You get to live! Living is the best!” I laugh and spin in a circle with her. She licks my neck and pees on me. Which makes me remember I forgot to tell Tina that detail, so Iris doesn’t know either.
Maybe if Iris fosters medical rescue dogs, she’s used to health problems.
I stop spinning. I’m not sure what “medical rescue” means, but it sounds like I’ll see some dogs from Very Bad Situations. It might be sadder than the shelter where Dad had them read Chewbarka’s microchip.
“It’s okay, though,” I tell Chewbarka. “They’re rescued. So they’re saved. Like you.” I set her on the ground and we keep walking. Her limp gets worse as we traipse past the back of Papa John’s for the hundredth time while I rack my brains for a transportation solution.
Maybe Cole’s brother could help. He’s sixteen and has an old beater car he’s always looking for an excuse to drive.
But I don’t have his number. I’d have to get it from Cole.
Well. I suppose now’s as good a time as any to test the waters.
Hey, I text Cole as I walk with Chewbarka. I hope stuff with you is good. Could you give me your brother’s number please?
Three dots appear right away, but then they disappear, and it’s a long time before they show back up. Long enough that I figure I’m out of luck. But then a phone number comes in.
Well. I guess I’m not surprised this is all
