She was right. I couldn’t even last one stinking week without forgetting, and she was always there to remind me.
“If you’re not responsible enough to make a bed, then how on earth are you going to take care of a livin’ creature?”
I screamed at her—told her I hated her—and slammed my bedroom door. Of course my dad made me apologize later. And I did, because I could never, ever hate Grams for long.
“When you’re older, I promise we’ll think about it,” she’d told me.
I stare at the slobbery beast in front of me. This is not what I’d had in mind when I wished for a puppy.
Nonnie and Saylor spend Sunday trying to teach him basic commands out in the backyard. Peach hangs outside with them and reads one of her romance novels in the hammock. She’s not wearing heels, but sheissporting a long magenta skirt paired with a cream-colored blouse. It’s very 1950s of her. I don’t know how she doesn’t suffocate from the heat.
I spend most of Sunday finishing my homework and texting Lin. She’s helping organize Earth Club’s first “Pick Up the Park” this Saturday at Winsor Lake. I was able to use my limited Photoshop skills to design flyers that we’re going to hang around school tomorrow morning.
Everyone gathered downstairs to watch a movie later in the evening. It sounded like a comedy judging by the amount of laughter coming from the living room. I knew I would be welcomed if I went downstairs to join them, but I didn’t. I still felt like a stranger in my own home.
On Monday, I get up extra early to get ready for school. It rained last night and clouds still hover thick in the air, which means it’s going to be a sticky, humid day. I pull on my favorite pale-yellow button-down paired with my floral purple skirt and slide into a simple pair of flats. Then I grab my book bag and keys before I step out of my room, grateful to have my own transportation to school.
I’m coming down the last few stairs when I hear the pounding of feet against the wooden floor. This is followed by a deepwoof!Before I can turn back around, Wallis comes barreling toward me. I back up a step, but that doesn’t stop him. He jumps up and tries to lick my face, his muddy paws staining the bottom of my shirt and the entire front of my skirt.
“No, down!” I stumble under his weight, grabbing the banister for balance. “Bad dog!”
Of course, he doesn’t listen. His tongue flops out of his mouth as he continues to paw at me.
Saylor and Nonnie rush into the hall. Saylor grabs Wallis by his new collar, but the damage is done. Mud prints and clumps of dirt are smeared down the front of my carefully chosen outfit.
I. Am. Livid.
“Sorry!” Nonnie says. She has those giant curlers in her hair and her pink zebra-print bathrobe wrapped around her. “I was letting him out back—it’s really muddy out there—but he barreled inside before I could stop him. He’s a big people person.”
My blood boils. I stare down at my ruined shirt. Saylor is struggling to hold Wallis back, but it’s clear he’s ready to lunge at me again.
“Just get him out of here,” I snap.
“He doesn’t know any better,” Saylor mumbles as he turns back down the hall.
Really? Thedogis getting sympathy? I suppress the urge to roll my eyes as I run back to my room. I find a clean skirt and a pale-blue top in my closet and cinch it with one of my brown belts. I adjust my lotus necklace in the mirror before heading back downstairs and out the door.
My mildly pissed off attitude spikes to high levels of annoyance as the day wears on. At lunch, Breck mentions having a party at his place this weekend since his parents will be visiting his older sister in Boulder. Then Jay says he can get these college girls to bring the beer because—and I quote—they are “obsessed” with him. This earns a well-deserved shove from Whitney, but he doesn’t apologize.
“What?” He feigns innocence. “Do you not want beer at a party?”
Whitney glares at him. “That’s not the issue.”
Jay shrugs it off, even though his tiny, overconfident smile reveals his awareness of the issue.
It’s weird. Even though he wears the same basketball tee and familiar pair of worn jeans, it’s like he’s grown into this new level of smugness that radiates some serious douche canoe vibes. I think back to when I’d caught him staring at Jana’s cleavage last week in history. I wonder if he’s still the type of guy who types out sweet late night texts or spends time building the classic model car kits he used to love.
I wonder if I even know him at all.
It doesn’t get better after lunch.
“Miss Seneca,” Mrs. Donaldson says as soon as I step foot into Algebra II. “Will you please join me at my desk?”
My heart sinks to my toes. I know this is about Friday. As much as I’d love to bolt again, I don’t. I adjust the strap of my book bag and walk over to her.
Mrs. Donaldson ignores the students filing in the classroom. She pushes a blue slip of paper in front of me. No no no NO. This can’t be happening. My dad willkillme if I have detention.
“You are not allowed to rush out of here before the bell or before I dismiss the class,” Mrs. Donaldson says. “Furthermore, you are not to be wandering the halls without a pass while classes are in session.”
