“I already told you no.”

I put my hand on Lila’s furry white chest and push. Her front paws, which had been on the edge of the bed, slide backward, and she lowers herself to the ground with a little huff of annoyance.

“Don’t blame me,” I say, flopping onto the pillows. “Beth’s the one who says you ain’t allowed on the furniture.”

Lila gives a quiet whine and puts her head on the mattress, ears tucked back and big eyes staring at me. It’s like she knows how pathetic she can look, and that I ain’t blind enough yet to resist.

“Oh, all right,” I say, scooting over a bit to make room as Lila clambers up onto the bed next to me. “But if Beth asks, it ain’t my fault. Not that she ought to care. She says I gotta make myself at home here, and if that’s the case, this is my bed now. She don’t get a say if you get up here or not.”

Lila drops her chin onto the pillow next to my head. She doesn’t look at me anymore, though. Just stares at the wall. She does that a lot, I’ve noticed. Since we brought her here a few days ago, she ain’t done much besides lay around the house, staring at nothing, looking sad. Which is pretty much what I do, too, I guess. So at least I have company for it.

I reach out and start to stroke the back of her head and neck. She don’t really respond when I do this, but she lets me. Not Beth, though. Any time she’s tried to touch Lila, the dog’s turned and scurried off in another direction. Not like she’s scared of her. More like she just don’t want a thing to do with her. I think Vanessa was right. I should feel flattered Lila likes me. Even if I ain’t sure why she does.

My phone buzzes, and I gotta root around beneath the covers to find it. When I do, I see it’s a notification—my friend Joey has tagged me in a picture he posted. He and my other best friend, Maya, are in Gatlinburg. Joey’s parents take an overnight trip there every summer and always let Joey bring along two friends.

I’m supposed to be there right now.

babykangaroo42: Me and @MayaFairLady about to go shopping in Gatlinburg! So glad I saved up my birthday money. Wish you were here, @Hadleybean13. We miss you!

I know I ought to type a response—tell them to have fun, tell them I miss them, too—but instead I just push my phone away and bury my face in the pillow.

I ain’t talked to Joey or Maya since I left Tennessee. When I told them I was moving away and wouldn’t be there all summer—or even be starting school with them again in August—they’d wanted to know why. And, truth is, I was way too embarrassed to tell them the real reason. It was bad enough I knew what Mama had done. I didn’t want them knowing, either.

So I’d told them Mama got a new job and we were moving to be closer to my sister. And I hadn’t elaborated any more than that.

They’ve been texting me almost every day. And sometimes I’ll reply with a smiley face or a heart emoji or something. Just enough so they don’t think I’m ignoring them but so I don’t gotta answer, either.

I miss them a whole lot, and I’m still mad as a hornet that I ain’t with them right now. But I feel like talking to them will just make me feel worse. Because they’ll ask me all kinds of questions—about my new town and if I’ve made any friends or where I’ll be going to school. And I don’t wanna tell them the truth. That I’m miserable and scared. That seeing their pictures just makes me sad. That I’m worried I won’t make any new friends. Or that, even when Mama gets out of jail, I ain’t sure what will happen. Because we don’t have our house anymore. And I don’t trust Mama now. And everything is gonna be different and …

I bite down on my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. I ain’t gonna cry. Nope. Not gonna think about any of that anymore.

Through the wall, I hear the front door open and Beth’s muffled voice as she chats with Mrs. McGraw, the annoying older lady next door who’s been staying here with me while Beth’s at work. Even though I’m twelve and really don’t need a babysitter.

I still don’t have a real grasp on Beth’s work schedule. She always leaves around nine in the morning, but some days she’s home by midafternoon and others she ain’t back until nearly dinnertime. I don’t bother asking her about it, though. I don’t want her to think I’m interested.

A second later, I hear the front door close again and Beth hollers, “Hadley, I’m back from work! I bought takeout for dinner.”

I don’t answer. I don’t gotta. I know she’ll just walk on in here. Beth, I’ve learned, ain’t much of a knocker.

Sure enough, I hear the doorknob jiggle, and my older sister steps into the guest room she’s been calling mine since I arrived. She stands in the doorway for a second, then sighs real loud.

“I thought I said she couldn’t get on the furniture.”

“I told her that,” I say, my voice still muffled by the pillow. Reluctantly, I roll over so I can look at Beth. “But she didn’t listen. Besides, it’s my bed. She can be up here if she wants.”

“She didn’t listen because she’s not trained,” Beth reminds me. “Which is what you’re supposed to be working on. Have you even been out of bed today, Hadley?”

“Yeah. Of course I have.”

It’s true. Kinda. I did get out of bed a couple times. Once when Mrs. McGraw knocked on the door about half an hour after Beth left for work. I’d intended to let her inside and then go straight back to bed, but Mrs. McGraw insisted on making me breakfast, telling me I was too skinny and asking me a million questions about how I was liking my new neighborhood.

Lila had stayed in my room the whole time. I was jealous. It was easy to be antisocial when you had four legs and couldn’t speak. I’d gone back to bed after eating, though, so she didn’t get my room to herself for long.

The other times I’d gotten up were to take Lila out into Beth’s backyard so she could do her business. I thought that’d be a little harder—talking her into peeing outside—but she did it right away. If I bothered with this training thing, at least housebreaking her would be easy. Even if it did mean picking up her poo with a plastic bag. Ick.

Beth clucks her tongue like she don’t believe me, but she changes the subject. “You got a letter in the mail today.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out something small and white. “It’s from Mama.” She takes a step closer to the bed, stretching her arm out, making to hand me the envelope.

I don’t take it, though.

After a long moment, she lowers her hand. “Do you want me to read it to you? I don’t know how well you can see to read—”

“I can read fine,” I snap, even though that ain’t exactly true. I can read—I’ve just gotten real slow. My field of vision has gotten narrow enough that I can only focus on one or two words at a time. Meaning it takes me forever to read even a page. But I’m sure as heck not telling Beth that.

“Oh … Sorry. I wasn’t sure.”

“I just don’t wanna read it,” I say. “Throw it out.”

“Hadley …”

“And when she calls tonight, I don’t wanna talk to her then, either. Or ever. So don’t bother asking.”

“Hadley.”

“What?” I demand. My voice is getting too loud, because Lila lets out a grumble before climbing off the bed and moving to the corner of the room. “I don’t gotta read it if I don’t want. And you can’t make me talk to her. You ain’t one to judge anyway. You don’t even like Mama.”

“That’s not true.”

“You didn’t talk to her for years,” I remind her. “We hadn’t seen you since you left home. If you can just go like that, leave us for good, then I can ignore a letter and a phone call if I want to.”

Beth doesn’t say anything for a long moment, then quietly moves toward the little desk across the room, placing the envelope on it. She sits down in the chair but turns so she’s still looking at me.

“I know you’re angry,” she says, voice soft. “I know you don’t want to be here. And I can’t say I blame you. What Mama did … it wasn’t right. And you’ve got every right to be upset with her. But she does love you. A lot. Be as angry as you need to be, but don’t forget that, okay? And that’s all I’ll say on that for now.”

“Good,” I mutter.

But another minute passes, and Beth still ain’t left the room. I sigh, loud and pointed, but it doesn’t budge her from the chair. Only now she’s looking over at Lila, curled up in the corner.

“Have you started reading any of the dog training books I left out for you?” she asks.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why? Because you ain’t a dog person?” she asks. “You keep saying that, but then I come home and find you all cuddled up with Lila.”

“She got on the bed. I told her not to.”

“Uh-huh.” Beth sounds like she’s about to laugh, which just aggravates me.

“I never said I wanted to train her. That was all you and your girlfriend’s idea.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Beth says, real quick. She pauses then. “I mean … why would you think Vanessa’s my girlfriend?”

“You want her to be,” I say. “I may be a kid, but I ain’t clueless.”

She groans. “My God. I’m so obvious even a twelve-year-old can tell I like her. Bet that means Vanessa knows, too.”

“She definitely knows.”

“Okay, okay. That’s not the point here.” Beth clears her throat. “We’re talking about Lila.” She shakes her head. “I can’t make you train her if you don’t want to. But if you’re not going to even try, I have to take her back to the rescue.”

“Fine,” I say, pulling the blankets over my head. I want to stop talking.

“Is it?”

The mattress sinks, and Beth pulls the blanket off my face. I glare at her.

“Hadley … Lila can’t stay at Right Choice forever,” she explains. “There’s only so much room there. If we can’t adopt her out, then we’ll have to find her somewhere else, so we can make room for dogs we can find homes for.”

“Somewhere else?” I ask, even though I don’t think I want her to answer.

“A shelter, probably,” Beth says. “They take in dogs from different places—dogs they think they can work with—and try to adopt them out. With Lila, she was at a shelter in another town. I think she’d been moved around a bit. But Vanessa pulled her out of the shelter and brought her to Right Choice. Lila’s never been aggressive, just distant. Vanessa thought Lila would be easier to work with in our setting, where she’d get more time and attention, but unfortunately … well. Anyway. The rescue doesn’t have a lot of space. And keeping Lila there, when they can’t find her a home, means one less kennel they can give to a dog we can find a home for. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“What’s so bad about a shelter?”

“Nothing, necessarily,” she says. “Some animal shelters are no-kill shelters. Meaning dogs and cats can live there as long as they need. They’re not that much different from the rescue Vanessa runs. But … those are often already overcrowded. I can’t promise that’s where Lila would end up, even though they’d try very hard to get her into one if they can’t keep her.”

I don’t need to ask her what the other shelters are like. If some shelters have to specify that they’re no-kill, then … The reality of what she’s saying makes my stomach hurt.

“That’s why Vanessa was so excited when she saw Lila letting you pet her,” Beth tells me. “We’ve been trying to train her since she came in. But she won’t respond to me or any of the volunteers. Barely lets us touch her. No one is going to adopt her if they can’t even pet her, especially if she isn’t trained. You’re the first real hope we’ve had for her. I’m not saying that to make you feel bad or pressure you if you really don’t wanna do this.” She sighs. “Honestly, it’s a ridiculous idea anyway. But Vanessa seems to think that between Lila’s liking for you and my experience training dogs, we might make something work. I hope she’s right. But if you don’t want to do it, I can’t force you.”

I look over at Lila, still lying in the corner. She’s watching me now, though. Eyeing the bed like she’s just waiting for Beth to leave so she can reclaim her rightful spot.

Beth might not have said it in so many words, but I know what she’s trying to tell me.

I’m Lila’s only hope.

But I can barely stand to be around people myself these days. How am I supposed to train this dog and get her to be friendlier? It kind of feels like we both need some training, if you ask me.

“Just … keep all that in mind, okay? You never know. Y’all might end up having fun. There’s a dog park a block from here. Maybe y’all could go there? You’ll wanna do some leash training with her, but it could be good for you both. Even just getting out of the house to take a walk around the neighborhood together. Or practicing with her in the backyard?”

I don’t say anything.

“Fine,” Beth says, with an irritated sigh. The mattress shifts again, and she stands up and moves toward the door. “If you’re hungry, I brought home KFC. Sorry. Too tired to cook tonight. But you’ll have to come in the kitchen to eat it. I’m not serving you dinner in bed.”

My stomach grumbles at the thought of fried chicken. And loud enough I can’t even pretend I ain’t hungry.

“I’ll be in there in a minute,” I mumble.

“Good.”

She’s already back in the hallway before I call out to her.

“Beth?”

Her blonde head pokes back into the room. “Hm?”

I sit up slowly, pushing the blankets off. I’m still in my pajamas. I ain’t changed all day, but Beth doesn’t seem surprised by this.

“About Lila,” I tell her, glancing back over at the pit bull again. “I’ll … I’ll think about it. Training her, I mean. I’ll think about it.”