As Avery and I wait on the steps at the Lewises’ old house, we hear noises from inside. The sounds of a baby—or babies—crying and a TV blaring. I hope they can hear us knocking.

I’d ring the doorbell, but there’s a small sign written in marker taped right above it: Baby sleeping. You wake him, he’s yours. Neither Avery nor I want a baby right now.

Last night, I could hardly sleep, I was so excited at the idea of seeing Hank again. But when I woke up this morning, I remembered that kind of thing happens only in fairy tales or the movies. Could I really be lucky enough to find Hank this way?

“Should we knock again?” I ask.

Avery leans his ear against the door. “I’m not sure they can even hear the doorbell in there anyway.”

I chew on my lip. We’re this close. They’ve got to answer the door.

“What if we try calling them again?”

Avery pulls out his cell phone. “I think I still have their number in here.” He holds the phone to his ear. “It’s ringing.”

I cross my fingers.

“Hello? Hi, uh, I’m at your front door right now. I knocked a few times, but nobody answered and—”

Just then the door opens. Standing in the doorframe is a guy with messy blond hair. He has a crying baby in one arm and another little guy clinging to his leg.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “This place can be kind of a zoo sometimes.” He laughs. “On our good days. How can I help you kids? You selling something for school?”

I clear my throat. “Actually, no. Not today. It’s about my dog, Hank. He went missing during the tornado, and my mom found his collar on the side of the road by your house. We were wondering if maybe you’d seen him.”

“Your dog, huh?” He scratches at his head and passes the baby off to his wife, who waves at us before heading up the stairs. “You’re from the neighborhood?”

“We live further down Hollow Road,” I say. “I’m Maddie Evans.”

“And I’m Avery.” He reaches out his hand.

“Nice to meet you two. I’m Isaac, and my little guy, that’s Cooper. We just moved in here a few weeks ago. Came out from Illinois—you know, where the tornadoes are supposed to happen. I still can’t believe one crossed this street! That’s just—it’s crazy.”

“Yeah,” Avery says. “Pretty unbelievable.”

“So, back to your dog…you say he went missing during the storm?”

I tell him about how I was supposed to feed Hank his supper but couldn’t find him. And how Mom and Dad didn’t see him again after that. How it was like he vanished, except, well, he couldn’t. He was a real dog. His body had to go somewhere.

“Now, I don’t want to get your hopes up, not just yet. But when Emma, my wife, and I moved in here, she was sneezing up a storm. We don’t have any pets—trust me, the kids are enough—and she’s always been allergic to dogs. But the weird thing is, the folks we bought the house from, they said not a problem, their tenants weren’t allowed to have pets. You know, so we took them at face value—we bought this place sight unseen.”

“So, you think they did have a dog?” Avery asks.

“Well, based on how sick Emma was when we moved in here…it seems awfully likely.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone. “You know, I have their number from when we were trying to coordinate utility switchovers. Let me give them a ring. You guys want to come in for a minute?”

I glance over at Avery, who nods. “Sure.”

We find our way over to the couch, pushing a few board books out of the way. From upstairs, we can hear Emma singing a song to the baby. Cooper finally lets go of his dad’s leg and plays with a puzzle on the floor.

Isaac turns down the TV and paces with the phone to his ear. “Hey, yeah, sorry to bother you. I’ve got this kid here from down the street. Said she lost her dog around the time of the tornado. You folks didn’t happen to— Whoa, no way! Okay. Yeah. Uh-huh.” Isaac flashes me a thumbs-up.

I grab Avery’s shoulder, not even thinking. “Oh my God! They have him!”

Isaac gestures for me to get on the phone, and I leap off the couch. My foot crunches on some stray Cheerios, and I grab the phone from him.

“Hello?” My voice shakes, but in the best way possible.

A woman’s voice is on the other end. “I’m so sorry—his fur was all matted and he didn’t have a tag. I thought for sure he was a stray. We were a few days away from moving to Springfield and everything was all mixed up. We thought we were rescuing him.”

“But he’s okay? He’s not hurt? Are you sure it’s him?”

“Your dog’s a sweetheart, honey. Just as sweet as can be.”

“His name’s Hank,” I say.

“Hey, Hank!” she shouts, and then lowers her voice back to a normal volume. “You should’ve seen the look on his face when I called him that. He never did like being called Oliver.”

I laugh and wipe a tear off my cheek. I don’t even care if Avery sees me crying.

“Now for the important question: When do you think you and your mom or dad can come by to pick him up? Hank sure looks like he’s ready to go home.”