Life doesn’t make sense. No matter what happens, people crawl out of bed and go on living. Our place is a madhouse on Saturday. Grandma has gotten worse and Mom has to go talk to the doctor. Beth is getting ready for work. And Rosie is underfoot, as usual.
“Why don’t you go see Bailey? She needs to finish your costumes.”
“All done, and they’re bee-yoo-ti-ful.”
“Yeah, right.”
Though Bailey has lost weight, she still isn’t what I would call skinny. And something tells me getting thinner hasn’t made her a better clothes designer.
It’s after lunch before the house clears out. All last night and this morning, I haven’t been able to stop thinking, If only . . .
If only Justin hadn’t called me a loser.
If only he’d left me alone.
If only he’d become Bruno’s alpha person.
I close the door to Mom’s office and dial the number I’ve memorized. Numbly, I give Ms. Kendall the news about the puppy.
“I’m so sorry, Sam. As luck would have it, someone came in last night who’s interested in the puppy. But . . .”
I’m not sure I want to hear what she has to say. Is she going to tell me she’s reconsidered? That she’s decided to do layaway? That she’ll accept a nonrefundable deposit? Now that it’s too late?
“Well, I think it was wonderful that you tried earning the money yourself. And we’ll have a new puppy for you when you do get the money. But . . .”
That but again.
“Well, next time I expect you to come out and see the puppies. You know, a dog chooses the person as much as the person chooses the dog. We want our puppies to go to the right person.” A pause. “I’ll call the people and tell them the puppy is theirs.” Click.
It’s real. My puppy belongs to someone else.
I can’t eat at supper.
“You coming down with something, Sam?” Mom feels my forehead. “Maybe you caught a chill in that thunderstorm. Your mattress is probably dry enough to bring back inside now. You sleep in the house tonight.”
“Can’t.”
Mom, Beth, and Rosie look at me. “What do you mean?” Mom says.
“I mean, I want to sleep outside.” I get up from the table. “I’m going to go feed Max and Birdie now.”
But when I reach the backyard, I don’t head for the old barn. Instead, I straddle my bike and head down the county road. I ride toward CountryWood but don’t stop there. I push my legs round and round. As my legs spin, the anger builds up inside me. Not at Justin this time. At myself.
Why did I tease him that way? Why didn’t I just ignore him? It’s all my fault.
Words pound in my head like a drum.
Failure.
Washout.
Bust.
Dud.
Loser.
The last word gets stuck.
Loser. Loser. Loser . . .
I screech to a stop. Legs putty. Shirt soaked. Skin wind-burned. Putting my rage dictionary back on its shelf, I turn my bike for home. My legs are burning by the time I reach Country-Wood, but there’s still three miles to go. No choice but to keep pedaling.
It’s almost dark when I put my bike in the garage. At the spigot back of the house, I wash my face with cold water. Drink a gallon as it streams onto the ground. Go to the barn to feed and water Birdie and Max. Birdie’s chicks are growing fast, a couple even putting on pinfeathers. Before long, they’ll be leaving the nest. Max empties his food dish and drains his water bowl. I refill it, watch him empty it again, and listen to him belch.
“Dumb old dog.” I rub his head.
My body feels empty, like some monster leech has sucked the energy out of it. Dropping down on the ground, I lean against the barn. Exhausted. Max drops down beside me, grunting like dogs do when they’re with their owner. Their alpha person.
I push stringy hair away and look into chestnut-brown eyes. He’s here for me. He’s always been here for me. Waiting.
“I’m sorry, Max.”
I know he’s just a dog, but a part of me believes Max understands.