A sister can be seen as someone who is both ourselves and very much not ourselves—a special kind of double.

—Toni Morrison

When I got to the shelter on Monday, Isco came with me into Rocco’s kennel and showed me all the commands Rocco knew—sit, down, come, and stay. I was impressed.

“Did you teach him?” I asked.

“He came already knowing most,” Isco said. “He’s a smart dog, but it probably means he had a family once.”

“What happened?” I asked, feeling a pang of sadness.

“Who knows?” Isco said, leaning down to scratch Rocco behind the ears. “All these animals have so many stories we’ll never know. But he’s here now—and you’re here now—and that’s what is important.”

Rocco’s tail thudded against the concrete floor. He knew we were talking about him.

Isco smiled. “He bonds deeply. It will be a good thing when he finds the right match.”

“But he will find someone?” I asked.

“Someone will find him,” Isco said. “You wait and see.”

I hoped he was right. I knelt down and rubbed Rocco’s broad head. He watched me expectantly, and I gave him the little chew toy I’d bought for him the other day. He pounced on it eagerly.

“How old is Rocco?” I asked, watching him play with the toy.

“Don’t know for sure,” Isco said, “but we think he’s around eight years old.”

“How long do dogs live?” I asked.

“It’s hard to say. A dog his size might live until he’s ten or twelve.”

“But that’s not very long. Why would anyone adopt him when they know they might have to say goodbye to him so soon?” I tried not to cry, but the thought was so painful. There were too many goodbyes in my life.

“I guess that’s why it’s hard for older dogs to get adopted,” Isco said quietly. “But you have to look at things the way Rocco does.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing up at Isco.

“Look at him. He’s happy now. It’s not about yesterday or tomorrow. It’s about now,” Isco said. “We could learn a lot from Rocco.”

My eyes teared up, but I brushed them quickly away with the back of my hand before Isco could see. I looked over at Rocco and his chew toy.

“I forgot to bring something to read today,” I realized out loud.

“Well, let’s try something new,” Isco suggested. “Teaching Rocco hand signals would be a great way to improve communication. He needs to understand the association between the verbal commands and the hand signals.”

Rocco tilted his head to one side and looked at me like he agreed.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

“One finger pointing to the eye means watch me.” Isco demonstrated. “Then you can show him an open hand, palm up, when you tell him to sit.”

I tried it. Rocco learned quickly. “Should I give him a treat?” I asked.

“I think your praise is all he needs.”

I rubbed Rocco’s soft ears. “Good boy.”

After Isco left us to practice, we tried the commands a few more times, and it was clear Rocco was picking up on all of them. I decided to take Rocco outside as a little reward.

“It’s a beautiful day for a walk,” I said, and Rocco’s ears perked up.

The click of the leash onto his collar was like a lightning bolt. He leaned into my thigh, tail wagging. Somewhere in his past life, walks had been a very good thing.

I took him out past the front desk, and I waved to Isco. “Have fun!” he called to us, and Rocco’s tail wagged.

While we walked around the block, Rocco glanced at the people passing by, but never tried to pull or leave my side. We crossed the street at the corner and passed a hair salon.

I looked down at Rocco. “Do you think I should cut my hair?” I asked him. Getting the pink streak in my hair had been fun and freeing. Now I wanted something more. Sometimes the weight of my hair felt heavy, like a blanket full of boulders.

Rocco glanced up at me, and I was sure he was saying yes.

After the walk, Rocco lay by my side on the floor of his kennel and dreamed of running. His feet twitched in his sleep, and sometimes he made excited little yelps. I wondered if he dreamed of running in grassy meadows or swimming in lakes chasing a green tennis ball. I tried to calm him with soft strokes and mumbled words that everything was going to be okay, but then I just let him run.

It was getting harder to say goodbye, but eventually I knew I had to leave. I waved to Isco at the desk on my way out.

“Hey, Annie?” Isco said before I stepped out the door.

I glanced back at him, suddenly feeling a little nervous, although not in a bad way. “Um, yeah?” I asked.

I noticed Isco looked sort of nervous, too. He came around from behind the desk. “Would you, uh, want to do something sometime?”

I looked at him and blinked.

“With me,” he clarified.

I felt my heart leap.

“Like what?” I asked.

“I have my break in a few minutes. We could grab a coffee at Mugs or something.”

That sounded too much like a date, and I wasn’t ready for anything like that.

But …

I looked at Isco. He was undeniably cute. And sweet. And probably more thoughtful than Jameson had ever been. But was I even over Jameson?

“I have to be home for dinner tonight. My sister is having her fiancé’s family over.” I talked really fast, and my voice sounded high pitched even to me. “Anyway, it’s like a big deal.”

“No problem,” he said quickly.

Then I looked at him again. His eyes were so dark brown I almost couldn’t see the black of his irises.

“But I could walk with you over to Mugs,” I said. “It’s on my way to where I parked.”

It wasn’t.

He smiled.

We walked slowly back to the square through Trimble Court Alley. The zigzag string of lights overhead lit up the brick walls and the hanging flower baskets. Up ahead was an outdoor piano, painted with exuberant red and green dots. Brightly painted pianos were placed all over town, a partnership with local artists and the city. Isco walked over to an upright piano and sat down on the bench.

“Do you play?” I asked, surprised. What else was I going to learn about him? He patted the empty spot beside him, and I sat down on the bench.

Isco laid his hands lightly on the keys, then slowly began to play. The melody was beautiful, but I had never heard it before. I was mesmerized as I watched his fingers moving lightly over the keys. When he stopped, we let the silence linger.

“That was beautiful,” I whispered. He looked over at me, and I felt butterflies in my stomach. Oh my God. Was he going to kiss me? No. It couldn’t be. Quickly, I shoved his chest, laughing and shaking my head to break the spell. “I’m sure you serenade all the girls.”

“Nope. I don’t use my obvious musical talent to win over girls.”

I rolled my eyes, still laughing, glad that the awkward moment had passed. “So what do you use?” I teased.

“Hmm.” Isco pretended to think hard. “I have some great opening lines. You want to hear them?” he asked with a grin.

“Sure,” I groaned.

“If you were a library book, I would check you out.”

I groaned again. “That’s terrible.”

“I know,” he said. “Wait. How about this one?” He straightened up on the bench, then made his face super serious. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

I burst out laughing. I couldn’t believe he said it with a straight face. “These are going from bad to worse.”

“Sorry,” Isco said, his eyes sparkling. “You asked.”

He looked directly at me again, and I stopped laughing. Why did he have to have such thick black hair that fell back down over one eye no matter how many times he brushed it away? His glance dropped down to my lips. Neither of us was laughing now. My pulse was pounding. Slamming.

I shouldn’t like him. Even if I did. I shouldn’t.

“Annie,” Isco said quietly. “Would it be all right if I kissed you?”

He slowly leaned toward me, and for a moment I leaned toward him, but I pulled away. No more broken hearts for me. Even if it meant missing out on stomach flutters and amazing kisses. Even if it meant missing out on what felt like a real connection with Isco. I had to protect myself.

Isco’s brow furrowed. I stood up suddenly from the piano bench.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I have to go.”

When Savanna walked into my bedroom, she stopped in her tracks. I sat in front of my mirror, with my scissors in one hand and a big chunk of hair in the other. The bright pink streak in front was now only six inches long.

“Annie, what are you doing?” she gasped. “Miguel and his parents are gonna be here in an hour—”

“Jameson and I broke up,” I blurted. Tears were running down my face continuously, but I wasn’t making any noise. I wasn’t sure whether I was crying about Jameson or the hair. Or everything.

“You did?” Savanna said, looking more shocked by that than by my haircut. “When?”

“A while ago,” I said. “I didn’t want to tell you because you were so busy with wedding stuff … and you wanted him to be an usher … and … and it happened over ChitChat, so that’s why I haven’t been going online, but I’ve been going back on now in secret, and … and …”

“Annie,” Savanna said. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me. That’s when I started to sob, big, ugly, gulping sobs. Savanna stroked my back and let me cry.

“Jameson never wanted me to cut my hair,” I said through my sobs. “He said it looked so pretty long. He didn’t even like it when I got a trim.” I caught my breath. “He didn’t have the right to keep me from cutting it.” I held out the chunk of hair, and Savanna took it out of my hand, not sure what to do with it. “It’s my hair.”

“It is,” Savanna said with a nod. “Is that why you cut your hair?” she asked after a while. “Because of Jameson?”

I ran my hand through what was left of my hair, the tears slowing. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” I sniffed. Savanna smiled, and I cracked a smile, too. “It wasn’t really because of Jameson. I actually think I’m over him.” I scooched over so Savanna could sit beside me on the chair. “At first, when we broke up, all I could think about were the happy memories. But you know, not everything with him was so great.”

“I knew that,” Savanna said wisely. “I wouldn’t have said anything, because you seemed happy. But I didn’t think you guys would be together forever.”

I shrugged. “I just wish things didn’t have to change. Everything is changing.”

Savanna nodded. “I know this may sound corny,” she said, “but sometimes things have to change. And it hurts. But it’s not always bad in the end. Like, I’m excited to get married and start a new life with Miguel, but I’m sad it won’t be the same here at home. A big part of my life had to change for something wonderful to begin.”

“But you’re leaving me,” I said with a big sob. There. I finally said it. I wasn’t happy about the wedding.

Savanna blinked. “I’ll never leave you, Annie. No matter where I am, I’ll always be your sister. That’s never going to change.”

Something inside me loosened just a bit. For the first time, I felt a surge of happiness for Savanna. She deserved her happy ever after, and I was selfish to think of only what I was losing.

“How does my hair look?” I asked, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.

“Well …” Savanna waited a few breaths before she answered. Now was not the time to lie. “It’s just hair. It will grow back.”

That was not a good sign.

“Besides, pixie cuts are really in style?” Savanna offered with a shrug.

I laughed. And then Savanna laughed.

“Let me see what I can do,” Savanna said, getting to her feet and reaching for the scissors. “I’ve been known to fix a hair disaster or two in my day.”

“Thanks,” I said as Savanna stood behind me to examine my hair. I wiped the remaining tears off my face and smiled at my sister in the mirror.