11:12 a.m.
“Safe!”
Alex casually knocked the dust off his pants, just like the pros did on TV. He didn’t really beat the tag; Rex had just dropped the ball at his feet. Still, a home run’s a home run. He glanced at the dugout to see if Nunu had witnessed his triumph, so she could vouch for his story at dinner; but she’d found his Gameboy and wasn’t paying him any attention. His teammates, though, treated him like a hero. As the game broke up, they pounded him on the back.
“Your dog rocks,” said Kwan, patting Rex on the head.
“Guys?” Doug suddenly looked worried. “Don’t tell my mom I had fun, okay? I don’t want her making this no-TV thing a habit.”
Alex’s cell phone started to ring. He dug it out of his pocket and checked the number: his mom. Uh-oh.
“Mom. Hi. What’s up?”
“I’m just checking in, wanted to make sure you guys are okay.”
“We’re fine.”
“No problems on the bus?”
“Nuh-unh.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“What’s all that noise in the background?”
“I’m, uh, messing around with Dougie and Kwan.” Alex held up the phone. “Say hi, guys.”
“Hi, Mrs. Douglas.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Playing with the Gameboy.”
“You didn’t turn on the TV did you? Remember what I told you—”
“Mom—”
“Alex, you promised me.”
“I know. We haven’t watched TV. Promise.”
There was silence on the line.
“When are you coming home?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. We might get busy.”
He silently pumped his fist. That meant he still had hours to go before he had to explain about the dog.
“I’ll call you later,” she said.
“Okay.”
“TV off, okay?”
“It IS off.”
“And it stays off.”
“O-kay.” He waited, hoping she was done. “Is that it?”
“I guess so. I love you, hon.”
Alex winced and looked at the guys. No way he could answer her back. “Uh, yeah, ’kay. Bye, Mom.”
As he hung up, Dougie grinned at him. “Nice. You totally lied to your mother about being home.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell her the whole truth.”
“Mayday Mayday Mayday,” Kwan urgently cut in. “Bogeys at two o’clock.”
Alex looked around. Jordan McCreevey was standing directly behind him, with Calvin and Deemer backing him up.
“Would you look at this? The Three Musketeers: a geek, a freak, and a crybaby.”
Alex heard shoes slapping pavement. Kwan and Doug were running away.
“A-Dawg! C’mon!” shouted Kwan.
But Alex stood his ground.
Jordan snickered. “Did he just call you a dog?”
“A-Dawg. It’s my call sign on Screaming Eagles IV.”
Calvin leaned forward, impressed. “You’ve got Screaming Eagles IV?”
Jordan turned his head slightly towards Calvin, who instantly knew he’d screwed up for speaking without permission. Calvin dropped his eyes to the ground, then folded his arms and glared at Alex like it was his fault.
Jordan jerked his chin at the shirt still tied around Alex’s head.
“What’re you supposed to be, some kind of rag-head?”
“I bet he’s one of them,” Deemer said.
“One of who?” asked Alex.
Deemer gave a crazy hoot. “You don’t know?”
‘They don’t tell crybabies,” Jordan explained.
Alex felt his face go red. “I’m not a crybaby,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you’re a jerk.”
Calvin’s eyes got wide. Deemer blinked in surprise. Jordan took a step towards Alex.
“And my dog thinks so, too,” Alex added.
Jordan stopped. “What dog?”
Alex reached back to put a hand on Rex’s head. And touched nothing.
He turned. No dog.
Alex took off like a fighter jet launched off an aircraft carrier. Halfway across the park, he glanced over his shoulder. Calvin was huffing and puffing and drenched in sweat as he struggled to haul his bulk after Alex. Deemer looked like his limbs were made of springs that sent him lurching ahead in a series of herky-jerky leaps and bounds.
But Jordan, tall and lean and long-legged, was closing fast.
Alex knew he couldn’t outrun them for long. He veered across an asphalt playground, vaulted over a seesaw, and dodged through a swing set. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Deemer angling to cut him off.
Up ahead, the playground came to an abrupt end at a railing overlooking a steep drop, where a long stairway led to a lower level of the park. He veered left, straight across Deemer’s path. Deemer saw him coming and closed the gap between them in three long strides. His hand brushed the tails of Alex’s shirt. But Alex felt a burst of adrenaline and sprang free, jumping onto the stairway rail and grinding down the pipe on his Heelys, leaving Deemer swinging at empty air.
Alex landed perfectly on the path at the bottom, dropped into a tuck, and zoomed down the asphalt. When he’d put some distance behind him, he angled toward a brick restroom building, hoping to duck behind it and hide. As he whipped around the corner of the building, he took one last glance behind: Calvin was yelling at Deemer. They weren’t watching him at all. Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
The hand caught him on the throat like a clothesline.
But his feet kept going. They shot out from under him as the hand tightened its grip and pulled him upright, until he was staring into the cold, blank eyes of Jordan McCreevey.
Alex tried to form a word. Nothing came out. He could feel the blood thudding in his head.
And then Jordan dropped him like a bag of trash. Alex landed on his knees, gasping for air. He staggered to his feet and noticed they weren’t alone anymore: Calvin and Deemer had arrived.
Jordan nodded at the goons. Alex was still trying to regain his balance when they grabbed him from behind and yanked his arms back hard. He heard his shoulder pop and saw a flash of white as pain shot through his head like lightning.
Jordan stood in front of him. Only his hand moved down by his side; his fingers flexed, then tightened. He drew his arm back and cocked his fist like a hammer.
That’s when the dog growled.
Jordan froze. He turned his head slowly, just enough to see Rex crouching behind him, back straight, ears swept forward, tail rigid and taut.
“Scat. Go away.” Jordan muttered.
The dog’s ears twitched. He drew back his lips and growled again.
“Stay,” said Alex. “Good boy.”
“He’s yours?”
Alex nodded. Rex growled at Calvin and Deemer. They let go of Alex and stepped back. The dog took a step forward.
Jordan flinched. “Call him off.”
“I don’t think I can. He’s wild.”
Jordan snarled at his goons. “What’re you mouth breathers staring at? Get over here!”
They didn’t move a muscle.
Rex took another step. Jordan backed into the brick wall. His eyes darted left and right, looking for a way out.
“Call him off.” Jordan jabbed his finger at Alex as he said it.
The dog read it as a threat and lunged at Jordan. Jordan turned and ran. He blew past a startled Calvin and Deemer, who fled right behind him. Rex paid them no attention; he bounded past like they were standing still and quickly closed the gap on Jordan, nipping at his heels and chasing him out of the park and down the block.
Alex followed them to the edge of the park. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.
“HERE, BOY!”
Rex immediately stopped running. He stared after Jordan until he was certain that the bully wasn’t coming back. Then he turned around and came loping back to Alex.
Alex knelt down as his dog sprinted the last few feet and jumped into his arms. Alex hugged him tight, but Rex squirmed and wriggled free, took a step back, and dropped something at Alex’s feet.
Alex saw it and grinned.
It was a back pocket, torn from a pair of jeans.
“You are the coolest dog in the world.”
He bent down to scratch Rex’s ears, but the dog jumped up and down, licking Alex on the face as Alex rough-housed with him, celebrating their daring escape. Rex was in mid-jump when Alex suddenly stopped in his tracks. The dog landed on all fours and held still, head tilted to one side, alert to the abrupt change in Alex’s mood.
Alex frowned and stared back across the empty park.
“Where’s Nunu?