Dylan opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He couldn’t even think of a good excuse.
Grace’s face fell, and she pressed her lips into a flat smile. “It’s cool,” she said. “Go sit with your friends.” She clutched her lunch bag to her chest. “I’ll see you on the ranch after school.”
“Right. Yes—see you there,” he said. Grace had set him free, but somehow that only made Dylan feel worse.
He watched her walk to her lunch table and set her stuff down. Her friends started talking to her excitedly, and she joined in their conversation without a glance back at him. Dylan hurried to his usual table with the guys. As he slid into his spot at the end, the guys were staring at him strangely. Dylan’s skin prickled. He got the sense that they’d just been talking about him.
“What’s up?” he asked.
No one answered. Jaxon sat directly across from him but avoided making eye contact. He took a bite out of his sandwich, chewing slowly while staring down at the table. The rest of the guys were silent. They seemed like they were waiting for something, but Dylan had no idea what.
Finally Jaxon spoke. “Why didn’t you text me back last night?” he asked Dylan. “Too busy with that dog?”
Dylan gulped. He’d meant to reply to Jaxon, but he’d gotten so distracted after finishing work and getting Brave home and catching up on his homework. Plus he hadn’t had the stomach to watch the video Jaxon had cut together of them throwing the balloons over the bridge.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry—”
“It’s cool,” Jaxon said, though the tone of his voice made it sound like it was anything but. “So really. What were you up to?”
Dylan’s face felt hot. The guys around the table were still staring at him. Why was he suddenly feeling like he was in trouble—like he did when he could tell his mom was mad at him but he wasn’t sure why? His gut told him it would be a bad idea to tell his friends the truth about what he’d been doing all weekend. They didn’t need to know about how he’d helped Grace and started training Brave. They would never understand.
He scrambled for something—anything—they’d believe. “Dude, my mom grounded me,” he blurted out. Getting in trouble was definitely something they could all relate to. “After I came home from throwing water balloons.”
The guys nodded. All except Sammy, the joker with curly hair who hung out with Jaxon almost as much as Dylan did.
“Why’d she ground you?” Sammy asked. It sounded more like a challenge than a question.
“I didn’t clean my room. She took away my phone and I couldn’t leave the house. It was brutal.”
Dylan squirmed under Jaxon’s steady gaze. Was Jaxon trying to see if he was telling the truth?
“You know how tough my mom is,” Dylan said to Jaxon.
After a moment, Jaxon nodded. “That sucks, dude.”
Dylan exhaled, relieved that Jaxon seemed to believe him. Once Jaxon had accepted Dylan’s story, Sammy and the rest of the crew nodded all around, throwing some pity his way.
“What did you want to tell me, anyway?” Dylan asked, happy to change the subject.
“That slo-mo video I made of us throwing the water balloons?” Jaxon was bursting with pride. “Did you watch it yet?”
Dylan shook his head.
“What?” Jaxon looked genuinely disappointed. “Oh right—your mom had your phone. It’s so cool—somebody pull it up on YouTube and show him!” The other kids scrambled for their phones.
“YouTube?” Dylan said. He swallowed hard. Dropping water balloons onto unsuspecting cars hadn’t felt exactly right—or legal—and Dylan was surprised that Jaxon had gone through with posting the stunt online, where anyone could see it. Wouldn’t that lead straight to trouble?
Their friend Bowie pulled out his phone and his eyes went wide. “Jax! You’ve got five thousand two hundred twenty-four hits!”
Jaxon let out a whoop and raised his arms in triumph. “Epic. Told you so.”
Dylan’s stomach wriggled as he watched the video. It was an instant classic—the balloons blowing to smithereens in slow motion.
“Now play it at regular speed—Dyl, you won’t believe how fast they hit,” Jaxon said.
Bowie started the video again. This time the balloons were a blur onscreen, and they landed with a Whap! Whap! Whap! Dylan started at the sound. It was familiar, but it took him a second to place it. The exploding balloons sounded like fireworks going off—and he couldn’t imagine what they sounded like from inside the cars.
Dylan watched his friends cheer and high-five each other, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the cafeteria monitor shooting them a stern look.
There was something about the whole situation that made him feel a little queasy.
He felt Jaxon’s eyes on him, and he turned to see a strange look on his friend’s face.
“What’s the matter?” Jaxon asked. “You don’t look psyched.”
“Nah, of course I am,” Dylan fumbled. “Are you gonna do it again?”
“Maybe.” Jaxon shrugged.
“Do it! Do it!” the group chanted.
“Okay, you convinced me.” Jaxon smirked. The cafeteria monitor started toward them, and Jaxon quickly shushed the table. He waited for the monitor to move away before whispering, “We’re definitely doing it again. But this time I want to make it even bigger and better—and even more dangerous.”
Dylan’s blood went cold, but he didn’t say anything.
“It’ll be beyond cool,” Jaxon said. “Everyone around after school today? We can start getting supplies.”
The group nodded enthusiastically. Dylan nodded too, hoping no one could see on his face that he was faking it. He was racking his brain for any reason to get out of joining them when he realized he actually couldn’t go—he had to be at the ranch after school. There was no way he was telling Jaxon that, though.
“Oh, bummer—” Dylan started to say.
“Don’t even tell me—” Jaxon interrupted him.
“I’m still grounded,” Dylan lied. He hated doing it, but he thought of Brave and knew it was the right thing to do.
“Dude, your mom sucks.”
“It’s not her fault. It’s mine for not doing my chores.”
“Correction then. You suck.”
Dylan looked down, stung by Jaxon’s words.
“Oh well,” Jaxon said with a laugh, looking around at the other guys. “We’re doing it with or without you.”
The guys at the table cheered, and the cafeteria monitor threw them another dirty look. But this time, they didn’t even seem to care.
Dylan felt strange, like he was watching the scene from above. He was sitting next to his best friend, at the same table they sat at every day, but he suddenly felt like he was on the outside. While the other guys were watching the balloon video again, he scarfed down the sandwich his mom had made. When he was sure Jaxon wasn’t looking, Dylan glanced across the cafeteria at Grace sitting with her friends. One of them was up on his feet, acting out a funny story while the others cracked up.
Dylan wondered what the kid was saying. Maybe he’d ask Grace later. His friends hooted and hollered as the video ended, and Grace looked up at the sound of the commotion. She caught Dylan’s eye, and he gave her a small wave and smile. She nodded in return and turned back to her friends.
Dylan cringed and wondered if Grace was mad at him for not wanting to sit with her. He wished she hadn’t looked away so fast—he would just have to apologize to her later. He couldn’t wait for school to end so he could get Brave and head over to the Garcias’. On the other hand, he felt bad about lying to Jaxon and the guys. And he was worried: Was Jaxon going to try to pressure him into making another video? There was only so long he could pretend that he was grounded.
As the bell signaled the end of lunch and the start of sixth period, Dylan wondered how much worse he could feel.
★ Chapter 13 ★
* * *
* * *
“How lon
g have you and Jaxon been friends?” Grace dropped an armful of branches onto the growing pile. She turned and looked out over the field they were clearing, watching Brave and Mustang chase each other.
“Forever,” Dylan replied. “I don’t remember not being friends with him.” He tossed a spiny jumble of tree limbs onto the pile and shook out his arms.
“That might explain it,” Grace said under her breath.
“Huh?”
She turned to look at him. “I’m just not sure why you’re so tight with him, that’s all.”
Dylan wasn’t sure how to respond. It hadn’t occurred to him that if he had noticed that Jaxon had been acting differently, maybe other people had too. But hearing someone else talk about him suddenly made Dylan feel protective of his oldest friend.
“Jaxon’s cool,” he said.
Grace raised an eyebrow and tipped her head to the side.
“He’s not that bad . . .” Dylan trailed off. The words sounded hollow out loud. “He just likes to have fun, that’s all.”
Grace let out a snort. “Yeah, but at whose expense?”
Dylan wanted to argue with her, but he thought back to the excited look on Jaxon’s face as the water balloons arced through the air and smashed into the cars below. Grace was right.
“Sorry,” Grace said. “I know he’s your friend. I don’t mean to sound harsh.”
“It’s fine,” Dylan said.
“I just—” Grace paused, as if she were deciding whether or not to say what she was thinking.
“What?”
“It’s just—well, you seem like a better person than that. I mean, you’re nice and you don’t act like you’re better than anyone else.”
Her words made Dylan feel two distinctly different things at once: squirmy from the compliment, and bummed for Jaxon. Did accepting the one also mean accepting the other?
“Thanks?” As soon as he said it, Dylan felt a pang of guilt. Was it still his job to defend his friend if Grace was right about him? Maybe he was supposed to convince Grace that Jaxon wasn’t so bad—that he was just going through a phase. But then Dylan thought about how it would feel to have a water balloon explode on your car out of nowhere. The sound alone would make anyone jump out of their skin.
The sound.
That reminded him of something—and he was relieved to have a reason to change the subject.
“You know,” he said, “I was thinking about what happens when Brave freaks out.”
Grace seemed happy to drop the Jaxon topic too. “Yeah? What’d you come up with?”
“It seems like he’s mostly freaked out by really loud sounds.”
“Which makes sense,” Grace said. “I mean, the hurricane was so loud.”
They both shuddered at the memory.
“And right before he ran out of my house and came to the ranch,” Dylan went on, “it sounded like fireworks were going off or something.”
“And when we dropped the tree trunk,” Grace said with a nod, “it was loud.”
“Exactly.”
“So maybe if we can help him learn not to be scared by sounds,” Dylan said, “he’ll get better overall.”
“Good thinking,” Grace said.
“How do we help him do that, though?”
She thought for a second. “When my little brother was born, my dad kept telling the rest of us not to be quiet around the house.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he told us it was okay to watch TV at full volume and run the vacuum cleaner and do all the usual stuff because the baby had to get used to the noise.”
“So, you’re saying we should expose Brave to lots of noise to help him get over his fear of . . . noise?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Dylan considered the idea for a second and shrugged. “Let’s give it a try.”
Grace checked the time on her phone. “We can get started right now. I have to get Rey out for some exercise anyway.”
“Who?”
“Rey. My horse.”
“Your horse’s name is Ray?”
“Yeah, but with an e,” Grace said. “Like el rey. It means ‘the king’ in Spanish. And he’s loud. Well, his hooves are anyway.”
Dylan remembered the sight of Brave trapped between the bucking bull and the horse’s stomping hooves the first time they’d come to the ranch. He didn’t want that to happen again—and he was pretty sure Brave didn’t either. “Are you sure that’s a good place to start? What if Brave flips out again?”
“It’ll be okay—it’ll just be me and Rey, and I can control him. Plus, if Brave is going to keep hanging out on the ranch, he has to get used to horses sooner rather than later. Horses and dogs are a team around here. Come on.” Grace turned and started walking back toward the barn and corral. She let out one sharp whistle and Mustang came racing across the field to follow her. Brave followed Mustang, tromping happily through the grass.
It sounded risky, but Dylan trusted Grace. He’d seen how well she could handle her horse, and it was clear that Mustang was an amazingly well-trained dog. If this was the way to help Brave, then that’s what they would do.
* * *
“Aaaaand stop,” Grace said. “Right there.”
Dylan and Brave came to a halt at the center of the ring. He held the dog by an old leash of Mustang’s that Grace had given them. Brave walked close by his side and sat down as soon as Dylan gave him the command.
“Good boy,” Dylan said, patting Brave on the head. “Now what?” he asked Grace.
“Now I’m going to get on Rey and you’re going to keep Brave close to you.”
“Okay.” Dylan gripped Brave’s leash tightly.
“Remember,” Grace said, “positive reinforcement.”
“Positive reinforcement. Got it,” Dylan said.
Grace disappeared into the barn and a moment later returned atop her horse, a statuesque white Arabian. She began to walk him slowly around the ring. The clip-clop of his hooves on the dirt was even and faint.
Brave’s ears sprang up and back, and his tail shot straight out behind him, curling up at the very tip. His eyes were locked on the horse, and a line of fur stood up on his back—but he stayed calm.
“Good boy,” Dylan said. He pulled a treat out of his pocket and held it under Brave’s nose. Without taking his eyes off the horse, Brave took the bit of food gently in his teeth and chewed it once before swallowing it.
Grace dug her heels into Rey’s side and clucked her tongue. The horse picked up speed, moving at a quick trot. As the sound of his hooves got louder, Brave grew agitated. He whined and began to pant, and Dylan could see his chest moving up and down as he breathed quickly. Brave lifted and lowered his front paws in a nervous dance.
Dylan shortened the slack on the leash. “It’s okay, boy,” he said soothingly. “It’s just Grace and Rey.” Brave let out a little whimper but stayed put. So far so good, Dylan thought.
Grace and Rey reached the far end of the corral and came around in a wide circle, heading back toward Dylan and Brave.
“Sit,” Dylan said, preparing the dog. At first Brave ignored him, but Dylan tugged gently on the leash, and the dog, looking uneasy, did as he was told. “Good boy.” Dylan held out another treat, but this time Brave was too distracted to care about it.
The sound of Rey’s footsteps pounding on the dirt grew louder and louder as the horse approached them. Dylan looked down. The dog was shaking. Grace and the horse passed by, and the noise was at its peak. As Rey’s hooves came down, the ground vibrated beneath their feet.
Brave couldn’t take it anymore. Frightened, he hopped to his feet and tried to run—but he was attached to a leash for possibly the first time in his life. The leash snapped tight and yanked Dylan’s arm, hard, nearly pulling him off his feet. Brave cried out in pain and surprise as Dylan leaned back, trying to stay upright. Brave dug at the dirt, desperate to break free and get away.
“Brave! Stop!” Dylan shoute
d. His shoulder was burning, and he held on to the leash with both hands, taking a step backward to restrain the dog.
Grace pulled up on the reins and brought Rey to a full stop. She hopped down and ran over to help Dylan with Brave.
“Easy, boy,” she cooed as she approached. “It’s okay, Brave. It’s just me.” She kneeled down in front of Brave and sat there, not touching him or giving him any commands—just reassuring him with her presence and her voice.
Slowly, Brave began to calm down, and his body started to relax. Dylan exhaled and exchanged a relieved look with Grace. He lowered his arms and loosened his grip on the leash, opening and closing his hands to get the blood flowing back into them. Brave was still on high alert, but his breathing slowed and his fur came down.
Until Rey got antsy.
Behind Grace, Rey snorted loudly and stomped his foot, then let out a shrill—and booming—whinny. All at the same instant, Grace’s head whipped around toward the sound, Brave splayed his legs and lowered his body to the ground in a defensive posture, and Dylan shouted “No!” Then, just as Dylan’s reflexes kicked in to tighten his grip on the leash, he felt it slip through his fingers, and Brave was gone.
The dog was a blue-gray blur. He shot toward Rey, but the horse raised one large hoof in the air as Brave came close. Brave turned on a dime, zigzagging in another direction, not losing a bit of speed.
“Brave—stop!” Dylan called out. But it was too late. Brave ducked under the lower rung of the fence and disappeared around the barn in a flash. “I’ll get him,” Dylan said to Grace.
Deflated, he set out after the dog. He searched under trucks, behind tractors, even in Rey’s empty stall. After ten solid minutes of searching, he heard a gentle rustling behind a bale of hay in the back corner of the barn. Dylan sat down on the blocky rectangle and peered over it at the dog, who quivered behind it.
“Hey, bub.”
Brave looked up at him, his yellow-orange eyes big, round, and sad.
“It’s okay, Brave. I get it. Rey’s a big horse—he scares me, too.”
Brave Page 7
