chapter 3

We ducked into the garage and I rolled out my bike. The hill we lived on was so steep I had to brake all the way down. Jack jogged easily at my side; he didn’t seem to mind the leash at all. At the bottom of the hill, we turned right. I picked up speed and Jack ran faster, too. He looked like a racehorse. I pedaled as fast as I could, and he matched me.

We coasted around the bend, and I saw a couple of boys playing basketball in a driveway. I took a deep breath and slowed down as we got closer to them. My first new people. Having done this a million times, I knew how to make my approach—say hi; don’t act too eager; play it cool—but I still always got that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. One kid had wavy, light blond hair, and he dribbled the ball toward me. The other kid was average in every way—not fat, not skinny, a little taller than me but not like a giant or anything. He acted like I wasn’t there. I did notice he had kind of a big butt.

“Hi,” the blond kid said.

I gave him the head jerk, that quick kind of nod that means hello. I don’t like to act too friendly at first, because you can’t take any of it back if the other kid doesn’t like you. Still, he did walk over to me and that was a good sign. I squeezed my brakes and put my foot down. Jack stopped, too, standing at attention by my side. The mailbox read “Miller.”

The blond kid dribbled the ball in place a few times, then said, “I like your dog.”

“Thanks. His name’s Jack,” I said. Jack huffed a little when he heard his name. “I got him at the pound.”

The other kid shifted on his feet. “Come on, Ray.” He wiped his forehead with his arm. I saw he wore a leather wristband. Pretty cool. But he didn’t even glance at me, so I didn’t say anything to him.

Ray knelt down to pet Jack, but Jack backed away from him. “It’s okay, boy,” Ray said, holding out his hand for Jack to smell. Jack backed against my leg and looked at me.

“He just has to get used to things,” I said. I leaned over and petted Jack so he wouldn’t feel all alone.

The screen door wrenched open. A little girl leaned out and yelled, “Alan, Mom’s coming—oh! Doggie!”

New kid rule: always listen. The other kid’s name was Alan, and he must be the little girl’s brother. I filed that information in my head.

She skipped down the porch and right up to Jack. Jack didn’t even move away.

“Wow,” I said.

Still squatting, Ray said, “He likes you, CeeCee.”

It was true. Jack nudged his head into her hand, all the better for petting.

“I like him, too,” CeeCee said. She tipped her face up to me. “Are you his dog?”

“No,” I said, feeling the corner of my mouth lift into a grin. “I’m his human.”

Alan clucked his tongue. “Get away from him, CeeCee!”

I couldn’t tell if he was talking about me or Jack.

CeeCee acted as if she hadn’t heard him. “Hi, doggie!” She patted his head and scratched his ears.

“I said get away from that dog!” Alan said. “Plus, I thought you said Mom was coming.”

CeeCee stood and twisted her face at him. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“It’s okay, Alan,” Ray said and stood up. “This dog’s okay.” Then to me, “Is he a show dog?”

Before I could answer, Alan sighed loudly and dragged himself closer, but he stopped short of joining us. “Why does he have red around his eyes?” he asked, curling up the corner of his mouth. “Is he sick or something? He looks weird.”

My eyes narrowed. “He’s not weird.”

He raised his chin at me. “Well, he looks weird. What kind of dog is he?”

“A good dog,” I said, gripping my handlebars tightly.

The kid sneered, then shouted, “His nose is turning pink! Oh man! What a weird dog—you should’ve named him Rudolph.” He shook his head. “Wonder why the pound didn’t kill him.” Then he snatched the ball from Ray and ran down the driveway. “C’mon, Ray!” He shot the ball through the hoop. “Yeah! Two points! Later, kid!”

I wanted to shout—I don’t know what I wanted to shout—but my mouth and my brain got stuck.

“Come on, CeeCee!” he yelled. “That dog might bite you.”

CeeCee stared at her brother with her lip stuck out. Then she turned to me, her eyes big and blue. In a soft little voice, she asked, “He won’t bite me … right?”

I bent down to face her. “Of course not! He’s a nice dog. Plus, he likes you.”

She looked up at me and smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Joshua.”

“I’m CeeCee.”

Ray stood. “I’m Ray. Your dog’s cool.”

“Thanks.” I tried to look friendly, but I had a hard time concentrating on it. “Who’s that kid?”

“Do you know Prater Lumber?” Ray asked. When I shook my head, he said, “Well, he’s Alan Prater.” Ray made it sound important; I added a mental note to my file.

I watched as Ray pulled a yo-yo from his pocket, throwing it down hard, then flicking it up to wind the string around his fingers in a web. It should have knotted, but then he slapped his hand and the yo-yo spun down and back up into his hand.

“Nice.” I’d only seen that kind of stuff on TV.

Ray grinned and spun the yo-yo absentmindedly while he talked. “I’m working on a combo for the July Fourth festival. Hopefully, I’ll have enough saved up for the Groove-it by then.”

“What’s that?”

He caught the yo-yo around his back. “It’s a better yo-yo for string tricks.”

Closer to the garage, Alan bounced the basketball from side to side. “Ray! Put the stupid yo-yo down and let’s play already.”

An expression passed over Ray’s face so quickly, I almost missed it—he pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes. I glanced toward the hoop, where Alan Prater made easy baskets from the side. Probably thought he was a big shot. If I called him Alan, he’d think we were friends or something. I’d call him Prater.

Ray slipped the yo-yo into his pocket.

“So he doesn’t live here?” I asked.

“He’s my brother,” CeeCee said. “He’s twelve and I’m five. I’ll be in kindergarten next year. Alan’s scared of dogs.” She fished in the pocket of her shorts. “Do you like candy?”

Whoa, scared of dogs. I fixed my eyes on Prater. “Yeah …”

“Want one?” She held out a butterscotch to me. It looked kind of grubby, and lint stuck to the parts that weren’t wrapped, but I took it anyway. Every new kid knows that rule: never say no to friendliness.

She popped one into her mouth and started talking about Missy, her best friend who she saw every day, and they liked to play dolls, except Missy has the most important one, which is the Ken doll, and everyone knows the girl doll needs a boyfriend, but CeeCee doesn’t have one and—

Prater’s afraid of dogs. I wanted to get back to that but didn’t know how.

“Come on!” Prater shouted from the hoop.

We watched as Prater threw the ball but missed. Guess he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. He looked up and caught me staring. “Take a picture, why don’t you?”

I would, but it would probably break the camera. That’s what I wanted to say. Instead, I stood there like an idiot.

Ray asked, “You want to play?”

Yeah, but not with Prater around. Sometimes you have to break your own rules. I shook my head. I wasn’t saying no to friendliness—I was saying no to Prater. “I have to take Jack for a walk.”

I couldn’t wait to get away from there. Jack and I rode back the same way we came. Prater the pear. Prater the crater. Prater the hater. Ray was okay, but Prater was a jerk.

I pedaled furiously. Jack galloped at my side. My heart pounded and I gulped huge lungfuls of air, but the pace was nothing to Jack. His powerful strides easily matched my pedaling. His ears and nose looked red, like someone blushing, and his skinny tail curved stiffly over his back.

When we got to our road, I struggled to pedal straight up, but the hill was too much. I got off the bike and pushed it.

Wonder why the pound didn’t kill him.

I decided I hated Prater. Worse, I hated that I froze and didn’t stick up better for Jack.

That night, I lay on the bed with Jack curled next to me. I was supposed to be asleep, but we were both restless. A cool breeze drifted in from my windows, and Jack kept lifting his snout to it, sniffing and nodding. That’s how dogs collect information.

If humans could get information that way, being a new kid would be so much easier. You’d smell people before you even saw them, and the smell would tell you everything you needed to know. Some people’s smell would say, I am an idiot. You’d tell yourself, I don’t want to meet that kid, and then you could just avoid him. You wouldn’t have to worry about what you should have said or what you should have done.

Jack shuffled around on the bed, moving closer to the edge. Then he jumped off and rested his muzzle on the window. Kneeling beside him, I gazed beyond our driveway to the woods. A wall of darkness. Dark, but not quiet. A breeze rustled the treetops and it sounded like the ocean. Crickets chirped. I even heard a bird.

I don’t know what Jack could see, but his nose twitched like crazy. He was a good boy. I’d be prepared for Prater next time. No one was going to cut my dog down.