Seven

“Wes, come take a look at this,” Hank calls. He scoots over, making room for me between him and Annie.

This is where Kat usually sits, and I don’t like taking her spot. I want to know what’s wrong with her this time, why she’s sleeping so much. But I don’t ask. Maybe I don’t really want to know.

Finally, I plop onto her spot because it’s better than where I usually sit, on the end next to Dakota. The air is still sticky hot, but it’s the coolest it’s been all week. I hope it cools down before my mom gets out of rehab. She hates the heat.

Dakota is talking to Popeye. “Winnie e-mailed me some tips on how to pull off soaking Blackfire’s hoof. I plan to use that old feed bucket from the tack room. Winnie says music should help keep Blackfire calm, so I’m borrowing Kat’s iPod docking station to play music out in the barn.”

She keeps babbling, and I recognize other tips that were on that list in her room. I should have known she got them from Winnie the Horse Gentler. All except the last item on her list, the one about me. Thinking about it makes my stomach ball up into a fist.

Rex trots up and sits next to me. His ears are back. I don’t want him to bark and give away how angry I am at Dakota. I lean back and stare through tree branches at a sky full of stars. Rex lies down too. It’s an average sky night. The moon is three-quarters, so its light wipes out the Milky Way. On some winter nights, the sky looks like a black sheet full of pinpricks, with light leaking through from the other side.

“Are you looking?” Hank asks me.

“I’m looking,” I tell him.

“Sirius,” Hank says.

“I’m serious,” I promise.

Dakota laughs.

Annie speaks up. “The name of that bright star is Sirius. S-i-r-i-u-s.”

Dakota snorts out another dry laugh.

“Sirius is the brightest star in the northern hemisphere tonight. We’ll be able to see it better in January though,” Hank explains.

Right. Like I’ll still be here in January. “And I care about this star because . . . ?”

Rex’s tail slams the grass, back and forth. He barks twice. I stroke him, and he stops.

Hank sits up and frowns at me. “Because another name for Sirius is ‘the Dog Star.’ It’s part of Canis Major. The Big Dog. Dad can make out the whole constellation, but I can just figure out pieces of it. Until December or January anyway.”

I kinda like that there’s a dog star. I squint up at the sky, but I can’t see anything that looks like a dog.

Popeye moves over by me and puts his head next to mine so we’re looking at the same thing. “There.” He points at the brightest star in the sky. “That’s the Dog Star. Now, those two stars above it are the shoulder and the eye of the Big Dog constellation.” His chubby finger traces the air, like he’s drawing on the sky. “Over there’s the nose. Below, you can make out two front paws. Then go back there, and that’s a hind leg, and two stars for the tail. Pretty soon we’ll get the Little Dog, too.”

I really do try to see what Popeye sees. I make out some of the stars he’s pointing to, but that’s it. “Popeye, you know I can’t fill in the blanks on this sky stuff.”

“Use your imagination!” Annie cries. Her voice makes the command sound like song lyrics. “I think the Big Dog resembles that skinny beagle you brought home from the shelter.”

I gaze at the stars and try again, but it’s a no go. No beagles in my sky. I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Try again, Wes,” Hank urges, getting a little too big brotherly. “You know how people talk about the dog days of summer? The Egyptians used to blame the Dog Star for the extra heat in summer. They figured it had to come from the brightest star in the sky, the Dog Star.”

“Give it up,” Dakota advises. “Wes doesn’t care about any of that. He just cares about his own little world.”

I’ve about had it with her. “Like you don’t?”

“I’m thinking about my horse. Not myself,” she says.

“Right. The big soaking plan. If you ask me, it’s all one big excuse to hang out in the barn all day. Or e-mail Winnie the Great Horse Gentler.”

“Winnie’s helping me take care of Blackfire!” Dakota shouts.

“That’s right.” My sarcasm is picking up steam now. “I’ll bet Winnie helped with your mighty list. Was it her idea to keep Wes as far away as possible?”

Dakota springs to her feet. “You read my journal!”

“Did not!” I get to my feet too. I didn’t touch her stupid journal.

“You did so!” she screams. “You were in my room!”

“You left the light on, like always!” I shout back.

“So I left the light on. So what? You’re not my mother.”

“Who’d want that job?”

We charge at each other until we’re nose to nose.

“Get out of my face, Dakota!” I warn.

“Make me!” she shouts back.

“That’ll be enough.” Popeye wedges his round body between us. “No more. You two have been at each other all day. This ends here.”

“But he—”

“She’s been—”

“No more.” Popeye says it quietly. Calmly. But his words have force. “I’ve come up with a punishment and a solution.” He grins at Annie, who smiles back.

This can’t be good.

Popeye turns to Dakota. “Dakota, Wes needs your help with these dogs. You’re going to help him.”

Dakota explodes. “That’s not fair! I have Blackfire to take care of.”

“Very true,” Popeye answers softly. He turns to me. “Which is why Wes here will be happy to help you with your horse.”