When Beth gets home that night, after my disastrous walk with Lila, I come out of my room to talk to her. She’s real surprised by this, I can tell. She don’t do a good job hiding it from her voice.

“Oh, Hadley!” she says, looking up from the pot she’s stirring at the stove. “Are you hungry? Sorry it’s taking me a bit to get dinner going. It was a long day. And I’m not used to making food for two people just yet.”

“I ain’t hungry,” I tell her. “I mean, I could eat, but that ain’t what I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh.” Beth finishes stirring the pot, then leaves it to simmer before coming over to sit at the tiny table. “Why don’t you sit down. What is it you need to talk about?”

I don’t sit. “It ain’t a big deal,” I tell her real quick. “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“Make what a big deal?”

I sigh. “That thing you talked about. That … that movement training, or whatever it was called. To help me get around better because of my … because my eyes are getting … you know what I’m talking about.”

“Orientation and mobility,” she says calmly. “It would help you as your vision gets worse. What about it?”

“Right, that.” I catch myself chewing on the inside of my cheek and force myself to quit. “Um … could you get me signed up or something? So I could … start classes or … training or whatever it’s called.”

“Of course,” she says. She sounds even more surprised now. “I thought you weren’t interested. What made you change your mind?”

I shrug. I sure as heck ain’t gonna tell her I fell and lost Lila today. She’d get all freaked out and lecture me, probably, or ask me if I’m okay a hundred times. I’m wearing my long pajama pants right now, even though it’s hot, so she can’t see my scraped knees. Mrs. McGraw probably told her about them, but I don’t wanna remind her and risk any questions. “I dunno. I just figure … it’s boring around here. Might as well have something to do.”

“Hmm.”

She don’t believe me. Before she can ask any more questions, though, I say, “Also can you buy some baby carrots?”

“Baby carrots?”

I nod. “Not for me. I don’t like carrots. But they were in that salad Mrs. McGraw brought over the other day. I gave mine to Lila and she really liked them. More than she’s liked the dog treats you brought from work.”

Beth sighs. “Hadley, you’re supposed to be training her. Not giving her table food.”

“I know, I know.” I wave my hand. “But it ain’t table food if the carrots are just for her. And … and if she likes them so much, it might help me train her. It’s worth a try, ain’t it?”

“Hmm. Well. If she does like them more than the dog treats, then … sure. I’ll pick some up.” She goes to check the pot on the stove before she asks a question. “So have you thought more about it, then? Are you going to try and train her?”

“I …” I’m chewing on my cheek again. “Maybe. Yeah. I guess.” I shrug. “I started looking stuff up on the computer this afternoon. There are a lot of YouTube videos about dog training. Watching those is easier for me than reading a bunch.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that.” She turns off the stove and starts opening up cabinets, grabbing dishes and utensils. “Videos being easier for you, I mean. It’s a good idea. Do you need help finding more? I can do some digging and—”

“I got it,” I snap. I don’t mean to. I know she ain’t doing anything wrong, really. But she’s just so eager to help all the time, and it makes me feel kinda bad. Like she don’t think I can do anything on my own.

“Okay, okay,” Beth says. And now she sounds irritated, too. Clearly I’m trying her patience real hard. “Dinner will be done in just a second, but how about after, I can maybe show you a few things that might help? We can do a bit of training with Lila together.”

“Sure,” I mutter. “I guess.”

Mama calls right after dinner. As she does every night. And, as I do every night, I refuse to talk to her. So while Beth spends fifteen real awkward minutes talking to her—catching her up on her own life—I wash the dishes, grab Lila, and head into the living room to wait. When my sister is off the phone, she comes to join us, a bag of dog treats in her hand.

“We’ll have to wait on the baby carrots,” she says. “These will do for now, though. First, make sure she knows you have them. Give Lila a treat so she knows what she’s working for.”

I take one of the treats from Beth and offer it to Lila. She sniffs it for a long moment before taking it. And nearly swallowing it whole.

“Careful,” I tell her. “You’re gonna choke on one of them if you keep that up.”

Lila just tilts her head at me, like she’s expecting more.

“Good,” Beth says. “Now she knows what she’s working for. Let’s start with teaching her to come when called. That’s a pretty simple one.”

But it sure doesn’t seem simple. Every time I try, Beth tells me I’m not doing it right.

“Lila, come?”

“A little firmer,” she says. “Not a question. You gotta let her know you’re in charge.”

“Lila, come!”

“Not so harsh,” she says. “You don’t wanna scare her.”

“Lila, come.”

“Louder.”

“Lila, come.”

“Softer.”

And through all of it, Lila doesn’t get off her butt and come over to me even once. She just stares at Beth and me, like she thinks we’re ridiculous. Even when I hold out the treat to her, trying to lure her over, she just stares at it. Like it ain’t enough to convince her, and she don’t got a clue why I’m not just bringing it over to where she’s waiting.

Eventually, she gets bored with Beth and me. She stands up and walks right out of the living room, back toward my bedroom.

“Ugh!” I throw the dog treat in my hand onto the ground in frustration.

“Calm down,” Beth says. But she sounds frustrated, too. Except I’m guessing her issue ain’t with Lila. She picks the treat up off the floor before saying, “I’ll go get Lila, and we’ll try again.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t wanna try again. This ain’t working. I’m done.”

“Training dogs isn’t always easy,” she says. “It takes time. Especially with stubborn dogs like Lila. You’ve got to keep working at it.”

“I will, then. But not with you,” I snap. “You’re just confusing me more. The people in those YouTube videos are way better teachers than you.”

“You are being so rude right now,” Beth snaps back. “I’m just trying to help, Hadley.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“Fine, then!” She drops the bag of dog treats onto the coffee table. “Figure it all out yourself.”

“I will.”

“Whatever, Hadley.”

She walks away from me then. She sits down on the couch and grabs the remote. I watch her for a second, but she ain’t looking at me. I know I ought to apologize. I know I’ve been rude, even though she was trying to be patient with me. But the more patient she acted, the more irritated I got. And I just couldn’t stop myself from pushing those buttons.

It’s obvious that living with me right now ain’t easy. I’ve overheard Beth, on nights when she thinks I’m asleep, talking on the phone with her friends. About how she’s having to watch her budget more because she’s got an extra person to take care of now. About how she can’t go on any girls’ weekend trips because she’s gotta be here for me. About how she feels like she can’t say anything right around me. She ain’t said anything mean, just … that things are hard.

I’ve made things hard.

So I know I ought to apologize.

But I don’t.

Instead, I walk out of the living room in a huff and go back to my room.

Lila’s lying on my bed again. She might be getting too spoiled, being allowed up there, though she ain’t tried to get on any of the other furniture. Mostly because she hardly leaves my room unless I’m taking her outside. Or, like tonight, Beth and I make her.

I sit down on the mattress next to her. After a second, she lifts her big, boxy head and puts her chin on my knee with a sigh. I reach down and stroke from the top of her head down her back. Again and again.

When I talk to her, it comes out in a whisper.

“We’re gonna keep working on all that stuff, you know. Just you and me. But you gotta actually try, okay?”

She closes her eyes for a second, and I imagine she’s trying to pretend she’s asleep. Like she can’t hear me.

“I’m serious, Lila. But … if it makes you feel better … You ain’t the only one who’s gotta get some training.”

I get a funny image in my mind then. Some faceless lady introducing herself as my mobility instructor, holding up a leash and a book called How to Train a Blind Girl. I don’t think that’s quite how it works, though. Pretty sure. The thought don’t quite make me laugh, but it does make me smile a little.

“All right, Lila,” I say. “I’ll make you a deal.”

Might just be my imagination, but I think the dog turns her nose just a little toward me, eyes flicking open as I talk. Whether it’s real or not, I pretend she’s paying attention.

“I’m gonna actually give this orientation and mobility or whatever—this training thing—I’m gonna give it a try. But if I do it, you gotta work on your training, too, okay?”

Lila doesn’t move.

“I mean it,” I say. “If I gotta be trained, so do you. If I can’t train you, Beth’s gonna take you back to the rescue. And I ain’t sure you’ll ever get adopted. And if they have to send you back to a shelter … I don’t even wanna think about what might happen to you, okay? So do we got a deal?”

I hold my hand down toward her, like we might shake on it. I don’t really expect her to move, of course. So when she does it surprises me.

She doesn’t put her paw in my hand or nothing like that. That’d have been way too impressive. But she does lift her head up off my knee, look at my hand, and bump her nose against it. I’m so surprised by it, I do actually laugh this time.

I’m pretty sure she was just trying to tell me to pet her again, but that’s all right. I’ll take it.

I grin down at her. First time I’ve grinned in a while, I think.

“Good enough. Looks like we got a deal then, Lila.”