“Grace, can you get the door?” Regan called from her room. She was taking pictures of herself in different outfits and texting them to her friends. Even without Sheena, Regan’s bench of besties was deep. I pictured frantic fingers flying across tiny keyboards, rushing to tell Regan how cool she looked. I wondered how many times the word “amazing” had been used.
Me, I was in my room doing actual homework, draped in a long, amazingly not-cute Jupiter Hammerheads T-shirt. Its logo was supposed to be a hammerhead shark, but instead it resembled some sort of red-and-black-beaked bird not found in nature.
The doorbell rang a second time.
“Grace!” Regan yelled again.
“On it,” I called back as I hauled myself off the bed. It was Monday night, only a day after Regan had agreed to let me pull Rex from the program. I had to be nice to her. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was after ten p.m. My mom was out to dinner and a movie with her support group—for a panicked second, I pictured a policeman at the door with bad news. My stomach twisted. It actually relaxed when I saw JJ Pico’s physique illuminated under the porch light.
Was he here to tell me in person to stop harassing him with texts? Had he brought backup? I glanced over his shoulder for any sign of a car, but saw only JJ’s rusty bike sprawled sideways across the driveway.
JJ himself seemed a bit disoriented. His foot was doing a nervous tap dance, his forehead beaded with sweat, yet he was rubbing his palms together as if he were chilled. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was some terrorized kid instead of a gang trainee. I wasn’t inviting him in.
My “what are you doing here?” and his “I have to tell you something” overlapped, canceling each other out. Rex took that moment to brush past me and plant his bristly backside atop JJ’s sneakered feet. As if the boy was giving off a needy vibe.
“I know it’s late, but I need to say this.” JJ’s eyes were downcast.
“Articulate.” I cannot believe I just mimicked Regan.
“I went to the cops, to the police station …” He hesitated, as if trying to decide how to proceed.
“They brought you in for questioning?” Instantly, I was alert, anticipatory.
JJ shook his head. “I went on my own.”
My heart clutched. Was it possible? Had he—?
“I told them,” he confirmed. “I told the cops.”
Blood rushed to my ears, pounding loudly. Easy, I told myself. This might not mean he confessed everything. I stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind me.
JJ planted himself on the porch ledge. I remained standing. “What did you tell them?”
“I gave up Hector.” JJ paused, then swallowed. “He had the gun. He was the one who shot Detective Abernathy.”
“And the others?” I asked, my heart racing wildly now.
He nodded. “Yeah, Chris and Tony. And maybe Chris was trying to stop Hector, at the last minute, like, to swipe the gun away.”
I frowned, less inclined to give the brute credit for good intentions.
“So anyway,” JJ continued. “They asked me stuff. Like, was it a drive-by? Why so close to the precinct? Didn’t we know we’d get caught?”
“What did you say?”
“Like I told you, I wasn’t in on the planning. Even now, I still don’t know if Hector meant to shoot the tires, like he said. Or …” He trailed off with a shrug.
“Why did they do it so close to the police station?”
“Maybe they were just showing off for me, like, look what we can get away with, right on the cop’s turf. ’Cause if they could chase Detective A away from me, that was the point.”
I blinked. A dumbass gang of teens thought they could intimidate my dad? My eyes fell on Rex, who gave me such a sad look, I nearly lost it. Dogs, all of them, have compassion.
“So anyway, I figured you’d want to know,” JJ said.
“Are you scared?” That came out before I could stop it—why should I care?
“Every freakin’ second,” JJ admitted ruefully, “but that’s nothing new.”
I scrunched my forehead, unsure what he meant.
“They never trusted me, Hector or any of them. If I was listening to Detective A, then I wasn’t one of them. And if I wasn’t with them, Hector used to say, ‘Big mistake, man. Your bro would not be happy.’”
“But you stayed in my dad’s program anyway,” I said, just starting to see how hard it must’ve been for him. The gang had a strong pull—in a twisted way, they were like his family. Then my dad came along, seeing something worth saving in JJ. Maybe JJ telling the truth, finally, was the proof that Dad had been right.
“You’re the one who really pushed me to do it.”
“With all those texts?”
“Nah. Those were stupid.” He waved me away. “It’s what you said. It stayed with me.”
“All the work he put into you will have been for nothing?” I guessed.
“You said that if I was really grateful to him, I should honor him. I should do what he always told me. If I knew something was the right thing to do, I should be brave and do it even if I was scared—”
“Especially if you’re scared,” I finished for him, my voice anything but triumphant. JJ had made his choice. I still had one of my own to make, and it scared me to death.
I watched JJ ride away, staring as the reflecting light on the bike seat got smaller and smaller, until it was just a pinprick, and the night swallowed him.
It’s over. Nothing can bring my dad back, but Detective Gregory Abernathy will finally get the justice he deserves. And I played a big role in that. So why wasn’t I dancing on the ceiling, jumping for joy?
And what would happen to JJ now? Did doing the right thing make him a target for the thugs?
Or would he eventually end up back with the gang anyway? Is it possible that he would stay strong and continue on the path my dad started him on?
I turned it over in my mind. There was only one conclusion I could come to. My dad believed in JJ. That’s enough for me.
I should call my mom. I should race to Regan’s room. But all at once, I felt so very, very tired. All I wanted to do was sleep.
It wasn’t until I’d reached my room that I realized Rex hadn’t followed me. I called his name, but got no response. Had I accidentally locked him out? I retraced my steps and opened the door. No dog. “Rex! Where are you?” I called. “It’s time for bed.”
No answer. I checked the kitchen, but the chowhound wasn’t there. Nor was he in the living room, bathroom, or any of the bedrooms. I finally found a pooped-looking pooch the last place I looked, belly-down in the tiny mudroom.
“Come, we’re going to bed,” I said.
“I think I’ll hang out here. It’s cooler.” His tail brushed the floor.
“I’ll open the window in my room and turn the overhead fan on,” I offered.
“That’s okay, Francie.”
Not okay. Rex hadn’t spent a night in any room but mine since he got here. Was he upset about something? He’d heard JJ’s confession. Maybe the dog … who certainly was not just a dog … needed his space?
“Do you want to talk about it?” I knelt and scratched behind his ears.
“I’m good,” he assured me, closing his eyes.
“You know you can stay with us, right? I already told you we’re pulling you out of Canine Connections. You don’t have to go live with someone else.”
Rex flicked his eyes open but didn’t say anything.
“Are you sick?” I asked.
His head jerked up. “Sick? No way! I feel great! The tiles here are so nice and cool on my belly. Besides, it’s closer to the kitchen.”
I gave up and started down the hallway. “If you change your mind, you know how to tug open the door to my room.”
“Wait,” Rex called.
I spun on my heel. “What is it, Rex?” The dog was looking at me with big, soulful eyes.
“Aren’t you going to say good night, Gracie?”
I stopped breathing.
Say good night, Gracie.
The dog had called me every name except my own—and now he comes out with it? Only my dad called me Gracie. I thought I’d never hear those words again.
I began to take short, rapid breaths. I felt my chin tremble, and though I bit my lip, it quavered, too. Acid tinged my throat, my eyes watered, stinging. I could feel my entire body welling up like a balloon being filled with air—only it kept going, bigger, bigger, and bigger, and I couldn’t stop the explosion. I did not cry prettily like Regan, or weep discreetly like Mom. I burst into a sobbing, snot-dripping, hiccupping mess. My whole body shook so badly, I dropped to my knees, wrapped myself around the pound dog, and wept loudly enough to wake the dead.