Gladys

Mrs. Marsh’s house already had a colorful fall wreath on the door. She was the kind of teacher who really got into seasonal decor. Gladys zipped past the house, then hopped off her bike and leaned it against the chain-link fence.

The lawn chairs were gone from the driveway. The curtains were gone from the windows. Not only that. The tree lawn was heaped with trash bags. On top of the pile sat a motorcycle helmet. In the grass lay a murdered cigarette butt.

She was moving out.

Or she already had.

In her confusion, Gladys thought she heard True barking in the distance. Which was impossible. Nerves—it was her nerves. It was all the emotions tumbling through her one after the other: surprise, confusion, worry. And now, knowing True really belonged to her and Jude: relief, elation, the satisfaction of being proved right.

But out of nowhere another feeling rolled in. A feeling so big and powerful, it squashed all the others.

Fury! How could that woman do it? How could she, too, leave True behind?

Gladys’s green hat lay in the dirt beside the doghouse. She couldn’t stand to see it there, and she hooked her toe in a chain link and started to climb the fence. But now she heard another painful bark, this time definitely not her imagination. Gripping the fence she turned, and her brain could not process what her eyes saw.

Down the street and headed this way, a kid who looked like he was made of pipe cleaners led True on a rope. True was straining backward, practically dislocating his arm. They were still half a block away, but it was clear True recognized where they were headed. Gladys watched in disbelief as True went up on her hind legs, skittering around. The boy tried to tug her forward, but she flattened herself on the sidewalk, popped back up, wrapped herself and him in her rope. True’s eyes rolled. She growled, fangs flashing.

“Help!” the kid yelled over his shoulder. “Jude!”

Gladys lost her grip and tumbled. Falling falling falling...nothing and no one to catch her till...thud.

Sprawled on the ground under the monstrous pine tree, Gladys heard more footsteps come running. And then, thank goodness, she heard Jude to the rescue.

“It’s okay, girl,” he said. “It’s okay!”

“Gaa! Don’t let it bite me! Gaa!”

“You’re scaring her! Quit yelling! It’s okay, girl! It’s okay. You all right?”

“You asking me or the dog? What the—? It peed my new kicks! Gross! Disgusting!”

“Jabari. Listen—”

“If this is a five-hundred-dollar dog I’m LeBron James.”

“I changed my mind. Give me the rope.”

Gladys sat up. Through the fence she could see the boys from the knees down. Poor True cowered behind Jude, tail clamped between her legs.

“I can’t take her back there. Look how freaked she is.” Jude’s voice was low and calm, his talking-to-True voice.

“Dude!” Jabari’s voice was a turkey squawk. “We agreed!”

“I know. But I can’t.”

“Yeah you can!”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t punk me! After all this? After I almost got bit two times and my school shoes got peed?”

Gladys darted a look back at the house. If the woman was still there, she’d have come out by now.

“Five hundred bucks!” Jabari said. “Five. Hundred. Bucks.”

“You need hearing aids? I changed my mind. Give me the rope.”

“You’re breaking your word again, just like with the fortress! Why’d I even trust you?” Jabari stamped his foot. “Your word—you know what? It’s not worth spit!”

That got Gladys on her feet. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

Both boys whirled around, faces slack with astonishment. Jabari stumbled back and almost fell over True, who gave a piercing yelp. His head swiveled from the dog to Gladys.

“Who are you?”

“No, who are you?” Gladys started to climb the fence, but her shoe got stuck in one of the links. “What do you think you’re doing to our dog?”

“Gladys!” Jude cried. “What...how...”

“Give me a hand,” she said.

“This is messed up,” Jabari said. “This is beyond messed up.”

“Hold the freaking rope!” Jude ordered, starting toward Gladys.

But no sooner did Jude hand over the rope than True bolted, yanking free from Jabari and charging into the street, colliding with Mrs. Marsh, who toppled against a parked car with a shrill cry.

“No!” she commanded, in the ringing voice reserved for her worst-behaved students. “Bad dog! Bad dog!”

Mrs. Marsh only scared True more. The dog flew down the street, trailing the rope. As Jude helped Gladys over the fence, she felt the chain link dig into her lower leg. Her shoe caught on the top rail and fell off, but the second he set her down, they both raced after True.

“True!”

“Pookie!”

The dog rounded the corner onto Front Street.

“Munchkins!”

“True!”

“Pookie!”

A car honked, brakes squealed.

But by the time Jude, the world’s worst runner, and Gladys, limping, finally reached the corner, True had vanished.