I sleep in Thursday morning, because why not? It’s an overcast gray day and it took me forever to get to sleep again. I kept thinking the same thing, over and over again: Why didn’t I just call? I thought biking over made sense yesterday. It seemed like the kind of industrial-strength relationship repair work that needed to be done in person. Plus, I tried to call a few times this summer and nothing. But if she knew I was back, she’d probably answer. She’s going to see me at school in a few days. Anyway, I don’t think I got to sleep before three or four.

Mom is gone by the time I get up, but I’m pretty sure JR will let me put the leash on him now. I’m actually looking forward to it — another mile or so of scaring the crap out of this town’s squirrels — but I don’t see him downstairs. It’s not until I go to get the milk out of the fridge that I see the note: Let dog in. I get the marker and write Who let the dog out? underneath. I figure I’ll do it after I eat, but midway through the bowl, I hear something going on out back.

It’s just one bark and a shout, but right away I have a really bad feeling. I recognize the voice. I’m up, out of my chair, and through the back door in about four seconds. Sure enough, there’s Mars.

He’s standing right outside the fence, and I’m about to ask him what the noise is about. But then I see his right hand. He’s holding it in close to his body, and there’s blood on it. I look over and see JR hunkered down against the back corner of the fence.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Mars looks up and sees me standing there. “He bit me,” he says. “He bit me!”

“What’re you doing here?” I say, trying to maybe turn this back on him.

“You said I could see him today,” he says, and I guess that’s technically true.

“I didn’t really mean … right now,” I say, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

I know right away that this is bad. The blood is deep red and dangerous looking, and as I’m watching, a fat drop falls from the tip of his middle finger right into the crisscrossed laces of one of his fake Jordans. This is bad, bad, bad. Not many people lose their lives to dog bites these days. But lots of dogs do.