Chapter 12

Austin

A drawing of a metal rake with a wood handle.

Maggie looks older. Different. I was kind of scared of her when she found Harvey, but that was because I knew I’d been wrong to keep him. I should have tried to find her. A year later, I’m not sure what I’m feeling when I look at her.

She’s wearing a uniform and her hair is glossy. I’m in an even grungier outfit than usual because Grandpa said that if I was going to Brayside, I may as well rake the leaves in the courtyard because he didn’t get to it on Friday and it’s supposed to rain.

Maggie opens the car door and Harvey jumps out. He starts sniffing and it’s all I can do not to run over and crouch down with open arms. He’s not your dog, I remind myself. But man, am I glad to see him.

The nurses at the front desk crowd around me. “He doesn’t look any bigger,” Mary Rose says.

“Remember how you had to give him a bath?” Artie asks. “He looked like a dirty little rat when you found him.”

I remember.

“What’s all the commotion?” Mrs. Fradette has only been here a few days and she’s become the talk of Brayside. The other residents don’t seem to know what to make of her. Don’t get me wrong; everyone is friendly to her. Mrs. O’Brien baked her muffins and Mr. Singh made a place for her at his dinner table.

But she doesn’t seem like the other old people. In fact, I don’t think she wants to be like them. She doesn’t care if she’s doing things differently. I mean, she drives a 1958 Bel Air. To the other residents, this gives her rock star status. Mr. Singh even stopped bragging about his Cobra GT4 around her.

She’s still waiting for an answer about why we’re all standing around staring outside. “That’s Harvey,” I say. “He lived here for a while last year and he’s come back to visit with his owner, Maggie. He’s a therapy dog.” Therapy dog is a bit of a stretch. Harvey has no special training, but everyone feels good being around him. I mean, look at Mr. Pickering. It was because of Harvey that he told me all his stories.

I don’t have a chance to explain anything else before a ball of white fur runs straight at me.