by Donna Cooner
When I was a kid, I remember lying on my back on the living room floor with my feet a couple of inches above the carpet. I held my feet up, until my legs shook from the effort, while my dad sat beside me with a stopwatch to measure my progress. Eventually my legs grew stronger and I could hold them up longer and longer. My father was so happy with me.
“That’s better,” he’d say with satisfaction as he clicked the button on the stopwatch. “But it’s not good enough.”
And then one day, as I was almost about to break my all-time record and was feeling unusually satisfied, my father took a dictionary off the bookshelf on the living room wall and balanced it carefully on top of my suspended ankles.
My feet immediately fell to the floor with a thump.
I was good. But I wasn’t good enough.
Cait
You know what’s silly? I miss posting GIFs. And funny videos. Like the ones where a cat is trying to jump on something and they fail miserably. But they keep trying. Isn’t that what life is supposed to be about? What else is there?
One time I saw a video of a donkey that was losing his freaking mind when he saw his owner come to the fence. It made me cry. Not like sob or anything, but I teared up. Over a donkey I didn’t even know!!
This vow is so hard to keep.
Luna
The heart will break, but broken live on.
—Lord Byron
The next day after school, Caitlin texted me and Luna to meet her in Mugs. We knew she’d had her football team tryout today, and obviously she wanted to tell us the news in person, whether it was good or bad.
While we waited for Caitlin, Luna and I sat at one of the tables by the window. Luna was working on another article on her laptop, but she wasn’t making much progress. I sat doodling in my notebook and sipping a latte.
Finally, Caitlin burst into the café, her hair still damp from the shower and her face glowing with big news.
“I made it,” Caitlin announced, running over to me and Luna. “The football team!”
“Congrats!” I exclaimed, and jumped up to join in the hug Luna was already giving Caitlin.
“This is amazing,” Luna said. “You are the first girl ever to play varsity football at Fort Collins High School.”
“I knew you could do it,” I said quietly. I leaned over and put my head on Caitlin’s shoulder. “When do you start?”
“I start practice with the team right away, but I get to suit up and be on the field for the next game. The one right after the pep rally!”
“You’re going to be a star,” I proclaimed.
The three of us sat back down at the table, making room for Caitlin.
“I don’t know about being a star.” Caitlin frowned. “I’ll probably spend most the season sitting on the bench. I’m still only the backup kicker.”
“You won’t be a backup for long,” I assured her, sipping my latte.
“Do you want to know something?” Caitlin said after a moment. Luna and I nodded. “As happy as I am, all I want to do is post the news all over ChitChat.” She shrugged, looking disappointed in herself. “But I haven’t broken the vow again. And I won’t. I promise.”
“I know you won’t,” Luna said. “But I get it. I’m missing ChitChat a lot, too.”
“I almost broke the vow last night,” I told Caitlin. “I wanted to share your news, too!”
“I had an idea after I got back from Annie’s place last night,” Luna said. She glanced from Caitlin to me. “Remember how the meditating helped us? And writing in the notebook helps me, too.”
“Yeah, the notebook is kind of growing on me,” I admitted, and Caitlin nodded.
“Well, I think we need to try more things like that,” Luna declared. “Things we can choose to do instead of going on ChitChat.”
“Like … sports?” Caitlin offered.
I shook my head. “It should be something different from things we normally might do,” I said, feeling suddenly inspired. “Like, I don’t know, volunteering someplace?”
“That’s cool,” Luna said. She opened a new document on her laptop and started typing. “What else?”
Caitlin pulled her feet up onto her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Maybe we could even just … play. In our backyards. Like when we were kids.” She blushed. “Is that stupid?”
Luna tapped at the keyboard. “I’ll put it down anyway. Remember, no ideas are bad. We’re just brainstorming.”
“Okay,” I said, thinking for a minute. “Maybe we could take a lesson of some sort? Like an art class?”
“That’s a good one.” Luna typed furiously.
And that was how the list took shape. Simple things. Hard things. Silly things. Until the page was full of ways to spend time doing something—anything—except going online.
When it was done, Luna turned her computer around and showed it to us:
Things to Do Offline
Volunteer
Play
Take a lesson
Write a poem
Read a book
Go on a hike
Organize your closet
Call someone you love
Watch a favorite movie
Be a tourist in your own town
Dye your hair
Go on a picnic
Fix something that’s broken
“I think we should pick one that we all do together,” Luna said. “And then we can each do our own things, of course.”
“Okay, but which one should be our first joint activity?” Caitlin asked.
“We’ll never agree on one,” I said. “There’s only one fair way to do this.”
I closed my eyes and pointed to a spot on the screen at random. I heard Luna squeal and Caitlin gasp. I opened my eyes.
Dye your hair.
Uh-oh. I loved my blond hair. “Let me pick again,” I said.
“No, this is perfect,” Luna said. “I think we need to go bold with something that symbolizes our vow. Something that reminds us every day that we are in this together.”
“I don’t know,” I said dubiously.
“On Saturday morning, we dye our hair bright pink,” Luna declared.
“Pink hair? No way,” Caitlin said emphatically.
“You don’t have to dye all of it,” Luna said. “Just a streak. And it’s not permanent. ”
“I’ll think about it,” Caitlin said.
“I’m in,” I said. Maybe a new look would help me get a new perspective. “My sister’s favorite salon is in Old Town. I’ll make us all an appointment. If we’re going to do this, we might as well get the help of a professional.”
And since I was feeling brave, I decided I’d tackle another option on my own. It was the first thing I’d suggested for the list—volunteering someplace. And I had just the place in mind.
Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?
—L. M. Montgomery
The boy behind the desk at the animal shelter when I walked in on Wednesday looked vaguely familiar. He had a gray stocking cap pulled low over his dark eyes. I realized he went to Fort Collins High School. A senior? Just my luck. After selecting a volunteer opportunity that was supposed to be full of animals—not people—I immediately run into someone I know. Sort of. The tag on the ribbon around his neck said his name was Isco.
“That’s unusual,” I mumbled, suddenly worried he would recognize me from the ChitChat video. I couldn’t escape no matter what I did.
He looked up from watering the ivy behind the counter. “The plant?” he asked.
“No.” I blushed. “Your name.”
“It’s short for Francisco. Like the Spanish soccer player?”
I stared hopelessly at him.
“Not a soccer fan?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“That’s okay. I don’t play soccer. And I’m Filipino, not Spanish,” he said.
I momentarily forgot my purpose. “Do you speak … Filipin
o?”
“My parents speak Tagalog, and no, I don’t speak it well,” he answered. “What about you?”
“Me?” I was confused.
“Your name?”
Whew. Maybe he didn’t recognize me?
“Oh,” I said. “I’m Annie. I’m named after my grandmother—Annie Macleod. She was from Scotland.”
“Do you speak Scottish?”
“Touché,” I said. “Point made. It was a stupid question.”
He put down the watering can and perched on a barstool behind the counter.
“How can I help you, Annie?” he asked.
“I’d like to volunteer,” I told him.
He leaned over the counter, resting his elbows on the knees of his faded jeans.
“Wonderful. There’s an orientation Saturday.”
I bit my lip. Saturday was the salon appointment with my friends. I couldn’t bail on them.
“I don’t think I can make it Saturday,” I said sadly. Maybe volunteering wasn’t in the cards for me.
“Well.” Isco looked at me. “We don’t turn volunteers away. If you’re determined to do it today, you could read to the dogs.”
“Read?” I asked. “Aloud?”
“It gets them more comfortable with people. All you have to do is sit outside the kennel and read. You can do that, right?”
“I’m not sure I even like dogs,” I blurted. Probably not the best idea to admit that out loud. But the truth was, I didn’t know what I did and didn’t like anymore.
“If you don’t like it, you can come back up here and we’ll try something different. Don’t worry,” Isco said, with a warm smile. “There’s plenty of jobs to do around here. Some with dogs, some without.”
“Thanks,” I said. “What should I read?”
“Anything you want. Your homework. Your favorite novel. A picture book. It doesn’t matter. It’s about the dogs getting used to people’s voices. Do you have something in there?” He gestured toward my backpack.
My phone was in there, but I also had plenty of schoolbooks. I nodded.
“Okay,” Isco said. “I’ll show you the way.”
I took a deep breath, then followed him through a heavy door and down a wide tiled walkway. Most of the kennels were occupied. There were jumpy, barking dogs eager to meet anyone walking down the corridor. Little dogs. Medium dogs. Fluffy dogs. Finally, we stopped at a kennel at the end of the hall. The dog inside was a big Labrador mix, curled into a ball on a bed in the corner. When I stopped in front of the fence, his eyes immediately looked up at my face, questioning. But he didn’t get up and come to the gate.
“This is Rocco,” Isco said. The dog lifted his head slightly at the sound of his name, but he still didn’t move from the bed.
“Is he all right?” I asked.
“He will be. With your help.”
“He looks sad,” I said.
“He’s going to be fine,” Isco told me. “He’s just grieving. Dogs feel loss, too.”
“Do I have to go inside the pen?” I asked nervously.
“Not if you don’t want to. But he’s not aggressive,” Isco said. “He likes you. I can tell.”
There was nothing in Rocco’s deep brown eyes to indicate he even noticed me, much less liked me. “Why would he like me? He’s never even seen me before.”
Isco shrugged. “Maybe it’s something about how you smell. Maybe you remind him of someone. Who knows?”
I looked at the dog. He looked back at me. “What’s wrong with him?” I asked.
“He’s fine, physically. I think he’s just sad.”
I know how he feels, I thought.
“Here’s a blanket for you to sit on.” Isco spread it out in the hallway in front of the fence gate. “I can stay with you awhile if you want.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“If you need anything, just come back up to the front desk.” He turned and started up the hallway, calling over his shoulder. “I’ll be there.”
I settled down on the blanket, laying my backpack beside me. Still Rocco didn’t move. I fidgeted, trying to think about what I should read. Finally, I unzipped the backpack and dug around inside. Chemistry didn’t seem interesting enough to read even to a dog, nor did geometry or even history. But then my fingers touched a small paperback at the bottom of the bag. I forgot it was there—a guidebook to Paris. Savanna had given it to me as a gift for my last birthday, and I’d started carrying it around in my bag.
I pulled the book out, and it fell open to a section about the Arc de Triomphe. It seemed like as good a spot to start reading as anywhere.
I took a deep breath, then started reading aloud softly. “ ‘The Arc de Triomphe de l’Étoile is one of the most famous monuments in Paris, France, standing at the western end of the Champs-Élysées at the center of Place Charles de Gaulle …’ ”
I finished that section quickly, then moved on to read a section about Luxembourg Gardens because surely any dog would love to hear about the lawns, tree-lined promenades, and flower beds at one of the most beautiful gardens in the world. When I finally looked up from the book, I was surprised to see Rocco lying by the gate just inches from my knee. He was a big dog, probably eighty pounds, but I hadn’t heard him move.
His eyes were like milk chocolate, and he looked at me like he was memorizing my face. Slowly, carefully, I put my fingers through the fence. His eyes followed my movements, but he stayed completely still. I patted him gently on the head, and slowly Rocco closed his eyes.
“I know some people say it’s overrated, but we should read the part about the Eiffel Tower, don’t you think?” I asked Rocco, and was rewarded with a tiny twitch of his long brown tail. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I settled in a little more comfortably and turned another page, holding up the picture for Rocco to consider. “ ‘The Eiffel Tower was named after the architect Gustave Eiffel and completed in 1889. The tower was supposed to be a temporary arched entrance for the World’s Fair, but the French fell in love and insisted it remain standing. Now it is one of the most famous monuments in all the world. Every night on the hour, twenty thousand lights twinkle for five minutes.’ ”
I closed my eyes for a minute, remembering the ChitChat video I saw once of the lights on the tower. Magical. A soft nuzzle against the fence brought me back to reality. Rocco looked worried, his furry doggy eyebrows lowered in concern.
“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’m still here. I was just thinking of places far away from here. It’s kind of my thing.”
His ears rose a little, and he tilted his head like he was thinking about what I said. I suddenly realized while he might not dream of the Eiffel Tower, he might know what it felt like to want to be away from here. He might be thinking of faraway places he only dreamed about—like fields of grass and cozy couches.
I closed up the book and stuffed it back into my backpack. Rocco seemed to know I was leaving and moved silently to the bed in the corner of the kennel. It was like he couldn’t bear to see me actually walk away.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered through the fence. But when I left, a part of my heart stayed behind in the kennel at the end of the hall.
Outside in the parking lot, the wind had a cold nip of a Colorado fall, and I dragged the folds of my forest-green coat around my body. The gust of wind blew me in the direction of my car. Stopping in front of the blue Honda, I struggled to untangle my windblown hair from my face so I could dig in my purse for the car keys.
I slid inside and turned the key. Click. Something was not right. I tried again. Click. No. No. No. I put my head down on the steering wheel.
The tap at the window made me jump.
“You need some help?” Isco stood outside.
I rolled the window down. “I could call someone.” Even as I said it, I knew it sounded lame.
“Or you could just let me help.”
“I know how to use jumper cables.”
“I figured you
did,” he said. “But the thing about jumper cables is that you need a car on the other end.”
“I know that.”
I knew I was being snippy with my answers. It wasn’t his fault exactly, but I didn’t want Isco to be nice right now and I certainly didn’t want him to be the one on the other end of the jumper cables.
After a minute, Isco pulled a black Jeep around to the front of my car, then slid out and opened his hood. I got out of my car and walked over to him with my jumper cables. He took them and fastened them onto his battery.
“How did it go with Rocco?” he asked, his eyes still on the connections.
“Fine.” I opened the hood of my car and attached the other end of the cables.
He walked back to his car and slid into the driver’s seat, gunning the motor. “You can try it now,” he called out the open door.
I know that. I got in my car, turned the key, and the motor roared to life. I was almost disappointed. I hadn’t wanted Isco to have the spark that saved the day, but what were my options? To sit here in the cold out of pure stubbornness?
Isco was already out of the Jeep and pulling the cables off the batteries.
“Thanks,” I said.
He wrapped the cables up and handed them to me. “Sometimes it helps when I’m stuck to talk about it,” he said. “So I’m up for hanging out sometime and talking about it.”
I didn’t feel like hanging out or talking with anyone.
“I’m good,” I said, slamming the hood of my car down for emphasis and walking back to the driver’s seat.
Do you know what my favorite part of the game is? The opportunity to play.
—Mike Singletary
I sat on the grass watching as Caitlin shook her hands out in the chilly night air to warm them up. This was just her first official practice with the team, but I could tell she still felt the nerves. She bounced up and down on her toes, then sat down on the grass beside me to stretch out her legs. I wasn’t used to seeing her in the football uniform, with the padded shoulders and all. But she looked good. Really good.
“I’m proud of you,” I said, thinking it was the least I could do to keep her company on the sidelines. Luna had wanted to come, too, but she was off chasing a new possible story for the paper.
