Ron Collins
Ron Collins’ work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies, including Analog, Asimov’s and Nature. This winter saw the initial publication of stories that comprise the Saga of the God-Touched Mage, an 8-part serial of novella length stories that have been listed in Amazon's top 10 dark fantasies in both the US and the UK. Of “Goliath vs. Robodog,” he writes: “It’s interesting to imagine everything robots will be able to do in the not-so-distant future, but sometimes it’s too easy to overlook things that really matter.” You can find more about Ron at www.typosphere.com
It was 3:17 on a Friday afternoon in early May. Kids chattered in the hallway, and the sounds of slamming SUV doors filled the parking lot.
Kevin Robbins was thirteen and finishing 8th grade. Kevin was also standing under the elm tree at the back of the school, trying to get past Trevor Johnson and his band of merry men so he could walk home.
“You think you’re something special,” Trevor said, towering over him and enjoying the intimidating edge thirty pounds gives. “But you ain’t so hot now, are you, Robbins? You ain’t nothing but a freaking snotball hanging at the end of my nose. Everything about me is better than you. I’m taller than you. I play ball better than you. Hell, my robodog’s even better than that mangy mutt of yours.”
“Come on, Trevor,” he said, praying no one else heard the waver in his voice. “Let me through.”
“Ya scared?” Trevor pushed Kevin hard enough that his algebra book landed in a fluttering heap at Jimmie May’s feet.
Jimmie May snapped his gum and stared at him.
Kevin brushed thin bangs from his eyes and knelt to gather his book, cheeks burning with humiliation. He realized beyond doubt that he should never have opened his big, humongously fat mouth in Ms. Thompson’s class.
Kevin muttered to himself.
“What did you say?” Trevor asked.
“I said Goliath is better than any old robot.”
“Didja hear that?” Trevor called to his growing audience. “Kevy here thinks his mutt is a match for Robodog.”
“That’s because he is!” a female voice said. Meredith Michaels, book bag slung over one shoulder, marched into the area.
Kevin’s stomach dropped. Meredith was his neighbor and a good friend. A thick patch of freckles covered her nose, and her blonde hair was cut short in a way that usually made her look playful. Today, though, her cheeks were crimson with anger.
“Goliath can take your dog any old day of the week,” she said.
“Look, everyone,” Trevor called. “Kevin Robbins needs his girlfriend to take up for him.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Ohhhooohhhhoooo,” Trevor mooned back. “Thou protesteth too hard.”
“That’s supposed to be ‘doth protest too much,’ jerk,” Meredith said.
“Whatever.”
“Come on, Meredith,” Kevin said. “Let’s go.”
Meredith wasn’t done, though.
“You think Robodog is so hot,” she said. “Why don’t you prove it?”
Trevor stuck his jaw out. “Name it.”
“Fetch match. Here at the school in half an hour.”
Trevor gave Kevin a carnivorous smile. “What do you think, Robbins? Loser’s underwear goes on Mr. Calhoun’s desk Monday morning?”
Kevin squirmed. His mom expected him to be home when she and dad got back, but the ring of kids around them loomed with expectant leers. “Chicken,” he could hear them whispering.
“You’re on,” Kevin said before he could stop himself.
“All right, then. See you in a half hour, loser.”
…………………………
“Come on, Goliath,” Kevin said.
Goliath was a Belgian shepherd, eight years old, with dark black eyes and velvety tan fur. He was happy to see Kevin, and even happier when Kevin opened the fence and picked up his throwing stick. Kevin scratched Goliath behind the ears, right where he knew Goliath liked it best. Kevin glanced to the kitchen window to be sure it was still dark.
It had been another bad week. Mom had taken dad to the hospital for another round of tests this afternoon. If Kevin didn’t have his homework done before they returned, Mom would go off on him again. Dad was always tired, so he wouldn’t be any help. It would add up to an uncomfortable dinner and another evening alone.
They weren’t due home until five, though, and with luck, he and Goliath could be back before then.
“Let’s go, boy” he said.
Kevin lived in a suburb of small brick houses lined up in perfect little rows. Each house had a concrete driveway, and each driveway had a car parked out front.
As they walked, Goliath sniffed bushes and clumps of grass growing from cracks in the sidewalk. Kevin held Goliath’s throwing stick in one hand. It was over two feet long and maybe twice as thick as a broom handle.
Goliath ran up past the Carter place.
“Get back here,” Kevin snapped.
The dog jogged back, his big black eyes wide as if to apologize.
“Don’t get too far ahead, all right? We don’t want Mr. Carter to come out and shoot you or anything, you know?”
Goliath gave a half-bark, half-whimper, then went to an evergreen in front of the Carter’s place and lifted his leg.
Kevin groaned as he waited for Goliath to finish, thinking he should just go back home and face the barbs that being a no-show would bring. Why did he let Meredith goad him into this?
A door opened from across the street. Meredith came out. She was a 7th grader, but taller than Kevin. She had changed to jean shorts and a T-shirt top. They had lived on the same street for as long as Kevin could remember. Kevin’s father worked for Meredith’s, and they had gone to all the same summer programs for years. He thought of her more as a sister than a friend.
“Jill called, and word’s out,” Meredith said. “Everyone wants to see Trevor’s robodog. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the school shows up.”
Kevin looked at the ground. Goliath barked, having run farther up the street. “Why me?” he groaned. “I’m just gonna to go home.”
“It’ll be worse if you don’t show up.”
He sighed. “It can’t get any worse.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Goliath will never beat Robodog.”
“Well, then,” Meredith said, “maybe you should have thought about that while you were making fun of Robodog in Ms. Thompson’s class.”
“I know.” He kicked concrete that had broken loose from the sidewalk. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. That stupid Robodog is all Trevor ever talks about – Robodog gets the paper. Robodog watches TV with me. Robodog’s favorite show is ‘Fallout Shelter,’ just like mine.”
Meredith laughed. “You do a good Trevor.”
“Just what I needed to hear.”
“For what it’s worth,” she said. “It really was funny when you asked if Robodog drank from the toilet, just like Trevor.”
Kevin grinned.
The class laughed, and Trevor’s face had gone red as Ms. Thompson’s nails.
“Yeah, I suppose it was. But I’ve been dreading this ever since I said it.”
They walked toward the schoolyard.
“How’s your dad?” she asked.
He shrugged. “They’re not due home until five.”
“You worried?”
Kevin nodded. His dad had dropped forty pounds in three months, and now spent all day in front of the TV. He didn’t golf. He didn’t play catch. He didn’t do much of anything else except read and sleep.
“They don’t talk like they used to,” Kevin said. “Mom and Dad, I mean. They used to get into arguments and stuff before, but it was always over quick, and things were ... I don’t know. Now nobody talks at all.”
“Why are parents like that?” Meredith said. “They tell us to deal with things, then can’t handle it themselves.”
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
Something didn’t feel right about that. He thought of the way Dad watched him now. He would stare so deeply while Kevin ate, or would watch Kevin while he did his homework or played ball in the front yard. It was a little creepy sometimes, but... Then there was Mom, who worked at the law office three or four times a week. She was always busy. But he would catch her staring at Dad with her lips tight and lines spreading over her face.
Kevin didn’t know what was wrong, and he didn’t know what to do to make things better. Worse, he had come to understand that neither of his parents knew any more than he did.
“I think they’re just scared,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Meredith replied.
“Nothing to be sorry for.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten you into this robodog thing.”
Goliath turned the corner and ran off into the open field.
“Maybe Goliath will win,” she said. “Maybe he could beat Robodog.”
“Ha!”
“Why not?”
“Well, dummy,” Kevin said, “in the first place Goliath’s no puppy. He’ll get tired in a flash, and that’ll be it. Then there’s the fact that robodogs use special alloys and composite bindings to keep them light. And they have computers that control balance and muscle movements. They can turn corners in the blink of an eye.”
“Sounds like you know a lot about ‘em.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve read a bit.”
Truth was, Kevin had wanted a robodog himself. He even asked for one for Christmas a few months back, but Mom and Dad said they didn’t have the money. Besides, what would Goliath do with a fake dog around? But Kevin knew that robodogs were sleek and cool and came in hundreds of breeds. You didn’t have to feed them like a real dog or deal with dung bombs when you wanted to play ball in the yard. Keeping a robodog going was just a matter of charging the batteries at night. It even took care of itself if you told it to.
Robodogs didn’t even slobber.
And you could program them to do tricks.
Once, when Kevin was eight or nine, he had tried to teach Goliath to roll over. He had gotten down on his hands and knees and shouted, “roll over,” while pushing the dog. Goliath just pranced around and licked his face with that rubbery tongue of his.
He smiled, despite himself. Those had been good days.
“Pif,” Meredith said.
“What?” Kevin replied.
“Do you believe everything you read?”
“Well, no.”
“And we’ve never actually seen a robodog, have we?”
“No. Not in person, anyway.”
“Well, then,” she said. “I’ve got faith in Goliath. I bet he’ll beat Robodog.”
Kevin straightened up. Meredith could be right. Maybe he was giving Robodog too much credence. Goliath was a good dog, and he had been penned in his yard all day. He was obviously excited about being outside. He looked ready to run.
Kevin felt better.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No problem, dummy.”
They turned the corner. There must have been fifty kids around the schoolyard. Goliath was squatting down in the grass, quite obviously taking a dump.
Meredith laughed.
Kevin’s face flushed.
This, he realized, was going to be bad.
…………………………
Kevin stood in the middle of the field with his back to Trevor, their dogs each at their heels.
Robodog was a black lab, the young adult model. Its coat shone in the sun and its tongue hung in a fake pant that gave its cooling system access to the air. Goliath sat still, also panting. His own pink tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, a long sliver of dog saliva dripping molasses-like toward the ground.
The schoolyard was an open field with empty soccer goals at each end, some swings, and a few sparse trees here and there. The grass had worn patches where team practiced.
Goliath whined. His gaze was focused with intense longing on the throwing stick.
“Twenty-five tosses, right Robbins?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin replied, “You have to throw the stick at least past Mr. Kennedy’s gingko trees for the toss to count. I have to make it past the line that runs across the swings.”
Trevor nodded acceptance. “We need someone to count down.”
“I’ll do it,” Meredith said, stepping forward.
Trevor glared at her for a moment, then smiled.
“On three,” she said, raising her hand.
The crowd grew silent.
“One.”
Kevin twisted to get leverage for his own toss.
“Two.”
Trevor cocked his arm.
“Three!”
Kevin threw the stick, and Goliath took off, his collar jangling with each stride.
Voices from the crowd rose.
The first toss was farther than Kevin wanted. Goliath chased it down, grabbed it, and lumbered home. “Good boy,” Kevin said as he winged the stick back into the schoolyard.
It was a good start. He took a backward glance at Robodog, who was just returning his stick. Great! Maybe Goliath could beat this machine. The mob’s voices receded into the distance as the game wore on. Kevin cheered for Goliath with each throw, and the dog barked for the pure joy of chasing the stick. By the eighth toss, though, Goliath was slowing, and by the twelfth he was nearly sauntering after the stick.
“Come on, boy,” Kevin yelled. “You can do it!”
“Twenty-five!” Trevor called.
“What?”
Kevin looked at Meredith, who nodded morosely.
“But Goliath was ahead after the first toss,” Kevin complained.
Trevor cackled. “Hear that? He thinks his fleabag was ahead.”
“I saw it. Robodog was just returning when…”
“Robodog was on his second stick when you looked back, Kev,” Meredith said quietly.
“Can’t wait to see the look on Calhoun’s face when he sees your underwear spread out all over his desk,” Trevor said. “I expect it’ll be there first thing Monday morning, right Robbins?”
The kids laughed and gathered around Robodog, asking a barrage of questions.
Kevin hung his head. Goliath gave a plaintive whine and stepped up beside Kevin. Goliath’s wet nose nuzzled his hand.
He pulled it back.
“I’m sorry, Kev.” Meredith put her hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “At least Goliath is a better friend than Robodog will ever be.”
“Don’t take that to the bank,” Trevor said.
Robodog sat at his heel.
“Shake hands!” Trevor said. Robodog raised a paw. “Roll over.” Robodog did a crisp barrel-roll in the grass.
Kevin’s face burned.
“Come on, boy,” Kevin said to Goliath. “We’ve got to get home.”
…………………………
Kevin trudged home. Goliath ambled beside him, his tags rattling, looking as defeated as Kevin felt. The spryness of their step was long gone. The muscles in Kevin’s jaw clenched, and he made fists so tight his nails bit into the meat of his palms. All he wanted to do right now was scream. He punched the air. Right, left. Right, left. He kicked the fire hydrant at the corner of the street.
What good was a real dog anyway?
What good was school, or friends? Or, when it got down to it, what good was he? Maybe Mom and Dad should just go out and get a roboboy and be done with it. At least then they would have someone who finished his homework, and cleaned up, and didn’t get pushed around in school.
Kevin turned the corner and froze when he saw his mother’s white car parked in the driveway. He was late.
There went dinner.
Kevin hung his head and bit back tears. Might as well get it over with.
“Come on, boy.”
He tugged on the dog’s collar.
Goliath, who had taken advantage of the pause to sit down, came along without a whimper. Kevin let Goliath into the yard, and ran him some water from the hose.
…………………………
Music was playing as he stepped through the door. Old stuff, the stuff his parents listened to when they were kids. Was it Cold Play? Who could tell?
“Mom?” he called.
“We’re in the living room,” she yelled, her voice muffled.
He walked through the house. They were dancing, if you want to call it that, pressed together arm-in-arm and swaying to the music. Mom’s head was buried in Dad’s shoulder. Dad’s eyes were closed. He looked tired, but he held her tightly to him.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Mom turned her head, leaving a damp spot on dad’s shirt. Her eyes were soggy.
“It’s cancer,” Dad said, swaying a little further.
Kevin was stunned. He sat down on the couch.
“So ... why are you dancing?”
They stopped, and Dad gave a half shrug and a thin smile. “Because I feel better just knowing?”
“What?”
His mother put her arm around his father’s waist.
“It’s in his kidney,” she said. “And it’s in the early stages. Its good news because there’s an approach that should get rid of it.”
Kevin sat, listening, trying to hear it all.
“The treatment is fairly new,” Dad said. “They remove a bit of the tissue, and take proteins from it.”
His mother followed, “Then they tailor a drug to hunt out the cancer cells.”
They were talking like they did in the old days, Kevin noticed, bouncing sentences back and forth. It was kind of like watching a ping pong match. Was that good? Was it not good?
“The doctor was optimistic,” his dad said.
“They already took the baseline tissue,” his mother added.
“I’ll get the procedure in two days.”
“Sunday?” Kevin finally said something.
“Yes,” Mom replied.
“That’s quick.”
“They want to move fast.”
Dad took a visible breath. “It’s going to be a tough few weeks, though.”
“Pish,” Mom said, patting his chest and pressing her lips into a hard line. “Now is not the time to be Debbie Downer.”
The song ended, and the three of them stood there, Kevin more than a bit dumbstruck.
“I better get dinner ready,” Mom said, looking at Dad. “You lie down and get some rest.”
Dad nodded and sagged into the recliner, kicked the leg support, and laid back.
He did look tired. In fact, Kevin thought, he looked like a balloon deflating before his very eyes.
“And you, young man,” Mom said, “can feed the dog.”
She went to the kitchen to put something together. Kevin looked at his father.
“You heard your mother,” Dad said.
Kevin nodded, suddenly afraid. He wanted to ask Dad how he really felt. Was he as tired as he looked? Did it hurt? Was he as afraid as Kevin was?
Instead he put his head down, went to the mud room to fill Goliath’s bowl, and stepped into the back yard to feed him. He put the bowl down on the concrete slab that served as their patio, and sat on the bottom of the four steps that led back to the house. The breeze was cool against the late afternoon sun. He smelled clover from the yard. A car rolled down the street across the back way. Tears welled in his eyes. Why, he thought. Why now? Why me? He hadn’t cried about anything for a long time, but now he had just listened to his mom and dad talk as if everything was so promising. He saw the way they had been holding each other so close, as if it could be the very last time that might ever happen. And now he cried.
He didn’t understand.
Or maybe he did understand and it was all just too much.
He wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeves, and drew a cleansing breath.
Looking down, he saw Goliath sitting quietly next to him, his tail twitching every so often. Goliath had to be hungry after their earlier adventures, but his bowl was untouched.
Kevin scratched Goliath behind his ears.
The dog gave a gentle whine, and rested against Kevin’s knee.
“You’re a good boy,” Kevin said. “But I’ve got to go in.” He stood up, and pointed to the bowl. “And you’ve got to eat.”
Goliath waited, staring back as Kevin climbed the stairs. Kevin watched him from inside. Once the dog was certain he had left, he gave a grumbling growl, then went to his bowl.
Kevin smiled despite himself.
It wasn’t until he was falling asleep that night that he realized his mother hadn’t said a word about him getting home late.
…………………………
Saturday was an endless process of waiting while Kevin’s dad underwent a barrage of tests.
Kevin read a book in one waiting room. He walked up and down the halls at another. He watched television. For a while he looked at other patients being wheeled around, but it felt like he was prying, and he didn’t like that. His mom and dad chatted briefly at times and read. Mom brought her crochet but didn’t spend much time with it.
Hospitals made Kevin anxious. They seemed so cold and so stark. Everyone talked in big words and with such practiced professionalism. It created a distance that made Kevin feel alone. The doctors and nurses strode with purpose. You could hear their voices, but their rubber-soled shoes muffled their footsteps and made it seem like they weren’t really there.
It was dark by the time they got home. Mom was cranky, and Dad was so tired he conked out within seconds of hitting the recliner.
…………………………
They had to be back at the hospital at 8:00 on a Sunday morning, which flat-out sucked.
Meredith offered to look in on Goliath through the day, so Kevin fed him early.
Doctor Schivitz came into the waiting room after a few hours to let them know the procedure had gone “just beautifully.”
He took a seat across from them and explained.
“We placed a half-dollar-sized wafer alongside his kidney,” he said, making his thumb and finger into a round shape to indicate the size. “It will dissolve over the next week and release the counter-drug directly into the cancer.”
They planned to get Dad up and moving today, and he would be released tomorrow if all went well.
“Any other questions?” the doctor asked.
The words came out of Kevin’s mouth before he could stop them. “When will we know if he’s getting better or not?”
“Kevin!” his mother said.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Robbins,” Dr. Schivitz said. “It’s a darn good question.”
He leaned over and looked at Kevin straight on.
“Your dad’s a trouper. We think he’ll do fine.”
“But you don’t know, right? I mean. It’s not certain.”
“You’re right,” Dr. Schivitz said. “Nothing is ever certain. But we’re doing everything we can, and the procedure has been successful in other cases.”
Kevin chewed his lip, and the doctor sat back.
“You’ve got a dog, right?” the doctor said.
“Yeah.”
“You might be interested to know that one of the very first patients they tried this on was a dog. A Belgian shepherd, I believe. Lived a good long life in Hawaii.”
“A Belgian?” Kevin said. “That’s what Goliath is.”
“Well,” Dr. Schivitz replied with a grin that was more honest than the one he had pasted on earlier. “What do you know about that? Maybe that’s a sign, then, eh? We’ll just hope for the best, and see what happens, all right?”
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
Then they were alone in the waiting room, and Kevin actually did feel better.
“Thank goodness for dogs, eh?” his mother asked.
Kevin nodded. “Yeah, thank goodness for dogs.”
They had an early lunch, then went up to see Dad.
Dad looked awful. He was drugged out, and, for a long time, could barely raise his hand. Dad lay on his side to keep pressure off the incision, which was wrapped in enough gauze to bandage the entire Civil War. The beep of a heart monitor pinged every second or so.
Later that night Dad was able to get up and walk and eat his mashed potatoes and his meat-something-or-other. It seemed to help. By the end of visiting hours, there was color in his face, and he was laughing at the television. It was enough to make Kevin think there was real hope.
Goliath was hungry when they got home, and pranced around the yard when they arrived. He nuzzled Kevin’s leg as he put the bowl down.
It was dark out, and Kevin was tired enough for bed, but he watched from the window as the dog ate, lapping chunks of food, and huffing breaths between bites in his rapid-fire dog way of eating. There was something about Goliath at that moment, something about this dog with his slobber and his dog-breath and his fur all tufted up ... he thought about Goliath running against Robodog, and he choked down a breath.
Goliath paused to scratch himself just like he had been doing since about as far back as Kevin could remember. Actually, Kevin couldn’t actually remember a time without Goliath, just like he couldn’t really imagine a future without the mangy beast, just like he couldn’t imagine...
He had been such a dweeb, the darkest, dumbest, lowest form of dweeb that could ever exist.
How could he ever think Robodog was better than Goliath?
…………………………
Trevor Johnson pressed Kevin up against his locker.
“So, Robbins, where’s the underwear?”
With everything going on, he had truly forgotten the bet until he saw Trevor coming down the hallway. For an instant he hoped Trevor would give it a pass, that the humiliation of losing would have been enough. But that was silly. Trevor wasn’t going to let up.
Kevin wasn’t going to give him anything here, though. He wasn’t going to break down. He wasn’t going to cry. For a flickering instant, he imagined himself punching Trevor in the face, his fist connecting and Trevor flying skyward like Superman had launched him.
Instead, Trevor bellied up to him, and Jimmie May and Kal McDaniels stood to either side, blocking his escape. Jimmie May cracked his gum.
Kevin glanced up the hallway.
“What’s the matter?” Trevor said. “Looking for your girlfriend?”
“No,” Kevin said. “I just...”
“You just chickened out is what you did.”
“No, I didn’t,” Kevin said, using the wall to help him stand a little taller. “I just forgot. I’ll do it tomorrow, I promise.”
“He forgot!” Trevor said, his voice rising. “You hear that, girls? Kevy Robbins just forgot that his sorry-assed dog got his sorry-assed butt whipped by Robodog.”
“I said I’ll do it tomorrow,” Kevin said from between clenched teeth.
The one-minute bell buzzed its warning, and kids scurried for class. Trevor leaned in so close Kevin could smell the sour odor of Trevor’s breath.
“You better, if you know what’s good for you.”
…………………………
They released Dad around noon, and he was on the couch when Kevin got home. There were flowers on the side stand and a row of cards open on the coffee table, arranged around a potted plant with another card from Meredith’s family.
“How you doing, Champ?” Dad asked as Kevin sat on a patch of couch.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one to say that?”
Dad chuckled. “Yeah, maybe so.”
“So?”
“I’m sick and tired of lying on my side, I can tell you that much.”
“How long do you have to do it?”
“Nurse said three days.”
“Are you getting better?” He said it straight out this time. No beating around the bush. “I mean, really better? That’s what I really want to know.”
Dad shrugged. “You and me both, kid. I’m sure it’s too early. But I’m thinking good thoughts, you know? And I’m trying hard to fight it. I think about it all the time – taking my meds and telling my body to focus.”
Dad moved a bit, taking pressure off his back. “No idea if all that ‘think good thoughts’ crap works, but if I don’t get better you can bet your behind it won’t be because I’m not doing everything I can.”
Kevin nodded.
“That’s all you can really ask for, right?” Dad asked.
“Maybe you can’t ask for more,” Kevin said. “But I can ask for you to be all-the-way better.”
Dad laughed and gave him a gentle punch on the arm.
“I love you, Kevin. You’re a good kid.”
“Thanks,” he said.
Kevin looked at Dad.
“Would it be okay if Goliath sleeps in my room again?”
They had stopped that a year or so ago because dog hair got all over the place and both Kevin and Goliath had grown a few sizes since they were a kid and a puppy.
“Fine by me,” Dad replied. “And if you do your sheets I don’t see that your mother would mind.”
Kevin smiled.
“Thanks.”
…………………………
There was no getting around it, Kevin realized. There was business he had to take care of, so he got up extra early and rode his bike to make sure he got to school before most everyone else.
It was strange to be there with the hallways so empty and silent. His footsteps echoed forever as he passed rows of lockers. It wouldn’t take long, but he was nervous enough he had to wipe sweat from his palms three times before he got to Trevor’s locker. He hoped he wouldn’t get caught.
He put his book bag on the floor, and pulled out a glue stick and the pack of pictures he printed last night. One-by-one he put them in place. The first showed Goliath when he was a puppy and Kevin was five. They were playing with the garden hose in the front yard, and both of them were drenched to the bone. The next showed Kevin at eight. He had just had his tonsils out, and Goliath was sprawled at the foot of his bed as Kevin ate ice cream. In all he pasted up twelve photos. When that was done Kevin took a marker and wrote a sprawling string of text that snaked all around the locker, “What Robodog would dream ... if he could.”
He stepped back. It was good. Perfect. He snapped a picture, and sent it to Meredith because he knew she would get a kick out of it.
There would be a price, of course. Trevor would hunt Kevin down, and Jimmie May would crack his gum. But that was okay. He was going to have to deal with Trevor Johnson sometime, and Goliath was worth it – every day of the week and twice on Sundays, as Dad would say. In a strange way, Kevin even looked forward to the confrontation. It didn’t matter about any stupid fetch match or whether robodogs could do a hundred roll-overs at a time. Goliath was the best dog in the entire world, and more. If no one else saw that, well, that wasn’t his problem.
Kevin pocketed his phone and shouldered his book bag.
He glanced once more at Trevor’s locker, then he stood up straight and walked down the hallway toward his home room.