10:21 a.m.
Alex stared out the window of the city bus, hardly noticing the familiar landscape as a series of images rolled through his head: Jordan, wishing him happy birthday with a smirk; the crushed cupcakes he’d left behind; his dad’s pants, the light catching on a faded crease; Mrs. Hamlin, her face as gray as ash; his mom, kneeling down to him, eye-to-eye.
Nothing made any sense today. And his birthday was officially ruined.
He caught a glimpse of himself in the window reflection. He looked like a pouty pre-schooler.
Yuck.
He looked away and tried to shake off his sulky mood. Then he noticed the strange silence on the bus. The other passengers all seemed to be staring at the floor. It was almost like his mood had infected the entire bus.
He heard a soft mumbling nearby. An old lady in the row behind him had her eyes closed while she counted her rosary, her lips moving silently as her trembling fingers pushed through the beads. A word of her prayer drifted to his ears.
“Father,” she whispered.
Alex shivered. He checked out the window; they weren’t even halfway home yet.
The light ahead turned red. The bus slowed to a stop.
He sat up a little straighter as he realized where they were: right next to the abandoned gas station where he saw the stray dog that morning. Behind a fence of jagged metal, the lot was covered in broken glass and rusty barrels. It was an ugly, dangerous place, and it made him feel bad to think of the dog all alone out here.
Then a new thought struck him: maybe that’s why the dog ran after him this morning. Maybe the dog needed him just as much as he needed that dog.
He closed his eyes tightly and made a frantic deal with the universe.
“If I close my eyes and count to ten,” he whispered, “he’ll be there.”
He counted to ten, forcing himself to go slowly. Then he opened his eyes.
There was no sign of the dog anywhere.
Alex slumped. For a brief moment, he had believed, really believed. Now he just felt stupid.
Outside the bus, a dog barked.
Alex jerked up straight and looked out the window.
The stray dog sat outside, staring up at the bus like he’d been waiting there all morning. Waiting for Alex.
Alex locked eyes with the dog. The dog barked again.
Alex pointed at himself and asked, “Me?”
The dog nodded. Alex was a hundred thousand percent sure of it.
The light turned green. The bus pulled away from the intersection.
But half a block down, the bus made a noise like someone had punched it in the gut and knocked its wind out.
Phhhhhooooooosssshhhhhtttttt.
The air brakes hissed as it jerked to a stop at the curb. The doors sprang open, and Alex popped out like a cork shot out of a bottle. He remembered to grab Nunu by the hand as he checked for traffic and sprinted back across the street.
“Alex? Where are we going?” Nunu panted, trying to keep up.
The dog watched them approach, his head cocked to one side.
“Alex?”
When he got ten feet away, Alex stopped. It was his first chance to see the dog up close. The mutt had an ice cream wrapper stuck to his back paw like a shoe; his other paws were covered in mud. There was a dark patch above his muzzle that made him look like he had a black eye. One of his ears stood straight up, while the other was turned inside out and flopped over backwards. And he was missing a bit of fur from his left haunch, where a patch of skin showed through, the same shade as the wad of bubble gum stuck to his tail. The dog shook his head, knocking the second ear back into place. His big pink tongue hung out of one side of his mouth, and as his head moved, it swung from side to side, flinging slobber.
He’s the most beautiful dog ever, Alex thought.
Alex dropped to one knee and put his hand out.
“Hey there, boy.”
The dog took one step forward.
Nunu knelt next to Alex, watching carefully.
The dog took another cautious step.
Then another.
Alex held perfectly still.
“That’s a good boy. C’mon.”
Alex didn’t take his eyes off the dog.
“Alex?” Nunu whispered. “What’re you doing?”
“Looks like I just found my birthday present,” he said quietly. Nunu’s eyes went huge.
The dog inched closer. He strained his neck forward to sniff at Alex’s outstretched hand. Alex didn’t move a muscle. The dog stuck his tongue out and tasted Alex’s palm. It tickled. Alex held his breath as he slowly reached out to scratch the dog’s ears.
The dog pounced, knocking him flat on his back. His heavy paws stood on Alex’s shoulders, pinning him to the pavement. Alex started to panic.
Then the dog licked Alex up one side of his face and down the other with that gigantic pink tongue.
“Good boy! Down boy! Down boy!”
The dog leaned over and licked a kiss across Nunu’s face, too, then stood back, his tail wagging like crazy. Nunu giggled as Alex burst out laughing. He rolled to his feet, and the dog let out a happy bark.
Dogs don’t talk; Alex knew this. But at that moment, he could almost believe that this dog—his dog—was speaking to him.
He was wishing Alex a happy birthday.