Things were a little different at home once school began. For one thing, Ethan spent a lot of time in his room, talking on the phone. He kept saying “Hannah,” but I never did see or smell the girl, which was a shame. My ears could have used a really good rub.
The leaves were falling from the trees on the day that Ethan took me for a car ride to a place where big silver school buses came and went, and there was a stench of smoke and burned gasoline in the air. Standing beside one of those buses, waving when she saw us, was Hannah!
I don’t know who was more excited to see her, me or the boy. I wanted to play with her, but all the boy wanted to do was hug her. I wound my leash around their legs in excitement, and they had to stop hugging to get untangled, saying my name and laughing and stopping halfway through to hug again.
I was so glad to see Hannah that I didn’t even mind being a backseat dog on the way home, while she got to sit next to Ethan. “Coach says there will be football scouts from some colleges there to see me play tonight, Hannah,” the boy said. “University of Michigan. Michigan State, too.” I could hear the excitement in his voice, and also a little fear. I looked out the window to see what might be going on, but there was nothing unusual out there.
That night, I was proud to stay with Hannah while Ethan played football with his friends. I led her over to where Mom usually took me and showed her where to sit.
We’d only been there a little while when Todd came walking by.
“Hi, Bailey,” he said to me, his voice friendly. But something was still wrong about him. I sniffed the hand he held out but pulled my head away when he tried to pet me.
“Do you know Bailey?” the girl asked. I thumped my tail on her leg when I heard my name.
“We’re old pals, aren’t we, boy? Good dog.”
I did not need to be called a good dog by someone like Todd.
“You don’t go to school here. Do you go to East High?” Todd asked.
“No, I’m just visiting Ethan’s family.”
“What are you, a cousin or something?”
The people in the crowd all shouted, and I jerked my head around. More wrestling was happening out on the big lawn. I gave a little tug at the leash, but Mom must have told Hannah to keep a good hold of it. I wasn’t going to get to play today, either.
“No,” Hannah told Todd. “Just … a friend.”
“So you want to hang out?” Todd asked. “Some of us are getting together. This game’s going nowhere.”
“No, I … I’d better wait for Ethan.” I cocked my head toward the girl. I could sense her getting anxious, and I didn’t blame her. Maybe she could feel the anger inside Todd, just the way I could. It was always there, and now it was starting to build.
I remembered the way his hand had come down on my hindquarters. I moved a little closer to the girl.
“Ethan!” Todd turned and spat in the grass. “What, is he your boyfriend?”
“Well…”
“’Cause you should know, he’s pretty much going out with Michele Underwood. She’s one of the cheerleaders.” Todd pointed. “See, over there? With all the blond hair?”
“What?”
“Yeah. Like, everybody knows it.”
“Oh.”
Todd moved closer to the girl, and when she stiffened, I saw that his hand was touching her shoulder. Nervousness spiked inside her, and it brought me to my feet.
Todd looked down at me, and I felt the fur lifting on the back of my neck. Before I even knew I was going to do it, a low growl rose in my throat.
“Bailey!” The girl leaped up. “What’s the matter?”
Todd was looking at Hannah now, ignoring me. “Why don’t you tie up the dog and come with me? It’ll be fun.”
“Um, no.” Hannah tugged at the zipper on her jacket. “No. I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? Come on.”
“No, I have to take care of Bailey.”
Todd shrugged. He stared at her. “Yeah. Well, whatever.”
The anger inside him was a tide about to overflow. I growled again. This time the girl didn’t say anything to me about it. She didn’t say anything to Todd, either.
“Fine,” Todd said. “You ask Ethan about Michele. Okay? You ask him.” He jammed his hands into his pockets and walked away.
Hannah sat down and put an arm around me. I leaned against her. When the rest of the people around us shouted and yelled, she stayed quiet.
An hour or so later, Ethan ran up to us, sweaty and happy and excited. “Michigan State, here we come!” he shouted. I wagged and barked and danced at the end of my leash. Then Ethan’s happiness drained away as he looked at the girl.
“What’s the matter, Hannah?”
“Who is Michele?”
I put my paw on Ethan’s leg to let him know that I was ready to play with the football now, if he wanted. The other boys had left the big lawn, but I was right here.
“Michele? Who do you mean?” Ethan laughed, but the laughter stopped after a second, as if he had run out of air. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”
The boy and the girl walked in circles around the big yard, talking, talking, talking, while the other people left and the light faded and the air grew chillier. I trailed behind them, finding some worthwhile scraps on the ground—popcorn, crusts from a tuna sandwich, an ice cream wrapper. I wondered why people thought that making sounds with their mouths was more fun than chasing a football or running around on a field.
“I don’t know this girl,” Ethan said. “Who said that to you?”
“I don’t know his name. He knew Bailey, though.”
I froze at my name, and lifted my nose from the candy wrapper I was licking. But nobody seemed about to take it away from me. I went back to work.
“Everybody knows Bailey. He comes to all the games.”
More walking. More talking. But I’d already found most of the scraps worth eating, and I was ready to go home. Finally, the boy and the girl stopped and hugged each other. They certainly did that a lot.
“Want to go for a car ride, Bailey?” the boy asked.
Of course I did!
We went home, and there was more talking (didn’t they ever get tired of that?) and some more hugging on the couch. I went into the backyard, leaving them to it, and found something remarkable there.
Meat. A big piece of meat lying right in the grass.
I was about to gulp it down before any other dog could come along and steal it, but I hesitated. I put my nose down for a second sniff.
It didn’t smell quite right. There was a funny, bitter odor that I had never smelled on food before. Even more strange, Todd’s scent was all over it.
I picked up the piece of meat and carried it over to the patio near the back door. Then I dropped it. It didn’t just smell bitter; it tasted bitter, too. Foamy saliva rushed into my mouth and I let it dribble out onto the grass.
I sat down and looked at the meat.
It didn’t smell right. It didn’t taste right. But it was meat. Right here in my own yard. Maybe if I gulped it down fast, the bitter taste wouldn’t be so bad.
I poked the meat with my nose and then lay down next to it, staring at it. Why did it smell so strongly of Todd?