Brave

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  “What if he’s scared right now?” Just the thought of it made Dylan’s chest ache. He wanted desperately to get back in the car, drive out to the kennel, and bring his dog home—where he could protect him.

  “He might be. But that’s why he’s there—to get the help he needs.”

  “I know. But still.”

  “It’s hard to be separated from the ones you love.” His mom sighed. Dylan couldn’t see her face in the dark, but he thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice.

  Dylan thought back to the day his dad had left a few months earlier. He was used to his dad coming and going—he’d been in the military since before Dylan was born. But that didn’t mean it got easier to say goodbye. In fact, in some ways, it got harder as Dylan got older, because there was more to miss—more fun stuff that they liked to do together, more real conversations, more family traditions, more laughs.

  Dylan suddenly felt awful that he’d never thought to ask his mom how she felt about his dad being gone. He’d always been so focused on how much he missed him. He’d never realized before how hard it must be for his mom to be alone so much of the time.

  “Do you miss Dad a lot?”

  “Yeah,” she said simply. “I do.”

  “Me too,” Dylan said.

  “But, Dylan, your dad always comes home. And Brave is going to come home too, you know,” his mom said, as if she could read his mind.

  “I hope so.”

  “I know so.”

  Just then, one giant crack of thunder wrenched open the clouds, and the rain came pouring down. Dylan and his mom jumped to their feet and scrambled inside. Dylan kissed his mom good night and headed upstairs, thinking about what she had said.

  ★ Chapter 28 ★

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  * * *

  Brave and Dylan had been apart longer than they’d been together. Four long weeks had gone by, but Dylan was doing his best to focus on the good: Brave was a star student, according to Amelia. Not only was he getting better trained by the day, but he was gradually getting less scared too.

  Dylan had been out to train with them every weekend, and he was amazed at how much Brave had learned. He was still his same sweet, happy self, but Dylan noticed that something about Brave had changed—he was sharp and alert, and he followed commands with precision. It was like he was becoming the dog he was always meant to be.

  The last time he was there, though, Amelia had said she still wasn’t sure when Brave would be ready to come home. Dylan was trying so hard to be patient, but he could barely wait until Brave greeted him at the door every day after school and rolled around in the dirt on the ranch with Mustang.

  Mustang, who at that moment was chasing a bee that flew in wide swoops around the field. Dylan stopped to watch her prancing around, her mouth open and her tail wagging.

  “Taking a break there, Dyl?”

  “Dude—seriously?” Dylan took off his cowboy hat, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and shot Jaxon a look. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Oh, like you’re moving so fast?” Jaxon replied.

  “Faster than you!” Dylan pointed at the meager stack of new fence posts behind Jaxon.

  “Guys, stop fighting,” Grace said. “You’re both slow.”

  Judging by the neat, tall pyramid of wooden posts behind her, she was right. Dylan and Jaxon looked at each other and couldn’t help but crack up.

  “Race you,” Jaxon said.

  “You’re on.” Dylan and Jaxon ran to the truck side by side, jostling each other out of the way as they pulled new posts off the flatbed. Mustang nipped at their heels, herding them.

  “Is that all it takes to motivate you two slowpokes?” Grace rolled her eyes. “A little friendly competition?”

  “Yup.” Dylan grunted as he carried one heavy slab of wood over each shoulder.

  “Who said it was friendly?” Jaxon shoved past Dylan, carrying an armful.

  “You should get grounded more often,” Grace said to Jaxon. “We’d get a lot more done around here.”

  Jaxon’s parents had not been pleased about the incident with the fireworks and the watermelon. They were all set to ground him—for a very long time—when Jaxon proposed a different plan, which he and Dylan had hatched together. Jaxon persuaded them to let him work on the ranch every day after school instead of keeping him in the house. It would not only teach him a valuable lesson, but it would also help out Grace and her family.

  Dylan’s mom thought that was a great idea and decided Dylan could work off his poor choices too. Their parents had made a plan with Grace’s dad, and the boys had spent the last month helping Grace. So far they’d finished clearing debris from the field and rebuilt three-quarters of a fence that seemed to go on forever. Dylan was seeing fence posts in his dreams at night, but he didn’t mind. He was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow anyway.

  Plus it was a good way to pass the time—with his two best friends—while he waited for Brave to come home.

  Dylan heard the hum of a car engine and turned toward the road that wound its way through the ranch. He pulled the brim of his hat down to shade his eyes and recognized his mom’s car. Why was she coming to get him?

  The car pulled to a stop nearby, and the back window rolled down. Dylan gasped when he saw who was in the back seat. A familiar bluish-gray figure stuck his head through the window, his amber eyes sparkling, his tongue dangling from his mouth, and his ears perked up.

  “Brave!” all three kids shouted at once.

  Brave stood up and wagged his tail, practically vibrating with excitement. He swiped a paw in the air and ducked his head, as if to say Let me out of here. Dylan dropped the fence posts to the ground and ran over to him, expecting Brave to jump through the window to meet him. But Brave didn’t move. Instead he just watched Dylan, his eyes filled with anticipation.

  He was waiting for a command. Dylan couldn’t believe it.

  “Come here, buddy!” he called, spreading out his arms in greeting. Brave hopped out the window and landed lightly on his feet, then ran to Dylan. Normally, Brave would have jumped all over him in greeting, but he didn’t. He just wagged his tail and looked up at Dylan with his tongue out and a happy grin on his face. Brave looked poised, calm, confident.

  “What are you doing here?” Dylan asked, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around Brave’s neck in a big hug. He let Brave lick his face from top to bottom, not even caring that the dog was slobbering all over him.

  Dylan looked up at the car, expecting his mom to get out. Instead, the passenger-side door opened, and someone unfolded himself from the seat. Then everything happened so fast—Dylan was up on his feet, his feet were off the ground, and he was being wrapped in an enormous bear hug.

  “Dad?” Dylan’s voice was muffled as it pressed into his dad’s shoulder.

  “Dylan—oh, man, am I happy to see you!” he heard his dad say.

  Dylan hugged him back as tightly as he could.

  “What are you doing here?” Dylan asked. “You weren’t supposed to come back for another week!”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  “I can’t believe it’s really you.” A million thoughts exploded in Dylan’s head at once, and he thought his chest might burst with that special combination of joy and sadness that he felt every time his dad came home. Not that Dylan and his mom weren’t okay when he was gone—they were. But when his dad returned from deployment, it was like Dylan’s whole world shifted a little, into the proper position. When they were all together, everything was right again.

  There was so much he wanted to tell his dad, so much he wanted to show him, but Dylan could only get one sentence out. “I missed you so much,” he said, his voice cracking.

  “I missed you so much too, pal. You have no idea.” His dad set him on the ground and held Dylan at arm’s length so he could take him in. “Look at you! You’ve grown a few inches for sure.”

  Dylan felt something scratching at his leg—Brave! There
was only one thing that could be better than his dad coming home: his dad and Brave coming home at the same time.

  “So you met Brave?” Dylan said.

  “I did,” his dad replied. “We’ve been getting to know each other in the car. He’s a pretty great dog, Dyl. You were right about him.”

  Dylan’s mom got out of the driver’s seat. “Surprise!” she said, holding her palms up by her shoulders.

  His parents enveloped him in a family hug while Grace and Jaxon watched. After a moment, Dylan’s dad raised his head and beckoned them over.

  “Get in here, Jax,” he said. “And you must be Grace.”

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Grace said.

  “I hear you’ve been a great help to Dylan,” his dad said. “Thank you.”

  “It was nothing,” Grace said, though she looked pleased.

  “Group hug!” Dylan’s mom said, wrapping an arm around Grace’s shoulders and pulling her in.

  Dylan had never felt so happy in his entire life. He looked around the huddle, at each of the people who meant so much to him. His parents beamed at him. Thank you, he mouthed to his mom. She winked.

  Brave wedged his way into the center of the group.

  “Bring it in, buddy!” Dylan laughed. Then a thought occurred to him. “Wait, Mom—is Brave just here for today, or is he home for good?”

  “He’s home for good,” his mom said. “And,” she added with a huge smile, “Amelia said he’s the best dog she’s ever worked with.”

  “Really?” Dylan asked, astonished.

  “Really. She said he got a great start with you and Grace, and it only got better and better from there.”

  Dylan sat down on the ground so he was at Brave’s level. He scratched the back of the dog’s head, and Brave let out a snort of satisfaction. He wagged his tail wildly.

  “I knew you could do it,” Dylan said to Brave.

  “We could say the same for you, Dyl,” his mom said. “Your dad and I are so proud of both of you.”

  “There’s something else, Dylan,” his dad said, his voice suddenly serious. “Something your mom and I wanted to tell you together.”

  “What?” Dylan felt a spike of worry, until his dad broke out into a huge grin.

  “Brave’s not the only one who’s home for good. I am too.”

  “What?” Dylan screamed so loud his parents covered their ears and laughed.

  “And now,” his dad said, “we can start the rest of our lives together as a family. All four of us.”

  “I can’t wait,” Dylan said. “Did you hear that, Brave? Dad’s home forever—just like you!” Brave slurped Dylan’s cheek in response.

  Grace dropped to her knees at Brave’s side. “Welcome back, buddy,” she said.

  Jaxon got down too and held out a hand to the dog. Brave sniffed it, then took a step forward and sniffed Jaxon’s face. Brave exhaled sharply into Jaxon’s eye, which Jaxon took as a good sign. “That means I passed some kind of test, right?”

  “Sure.” Dylan laughed. “Let’s go with that.” He pulled Brave in close, resting his head against the dog’s. “I’m so happy you’re back.” Dylan sighed.

  Grace wrapped an arm around the dog from the other side. “You’re here to stay, Brave,” she said, tipping her head to his.

  “You know what this calls for, right?” Jaxon asked.

  “Uh-oh—what?” Dylan groaned.

  “Dog pile!” Jaxon shouted, raising both fists in the air in a triumphant cheer. “Wooooooohooooo!”

  The sound of Dylan, Grace, and Jaxon’s laughter rose up into the sky high above the ranch, catching the wind and mixing with Brave’s happy howls.

  ★ All About the Blue Lacy ★

  * * *

  Lacy dogs are fast, energetic, and hard-working dogs who love to have a purpose and really need a job—like herding cattle and game animals many times their size.

  Lacys are a breed of working dogs developed in Texas beginning in the mid-nineteenth century. The original breed mixture is credited to the Lacy brothers—Frank, George, Edwin, and Harry—who moved from Kentucky to Texas in 1858. According to the Lacy family, the first Lacy dog was a mixture of English shepherd, greyhound, wolf, and possibly coyote. The Lacy brothers were trying to breed the perfect herding dog for their free-roaming hogs.

  Lacy dogs are fast, lightly built dogs that have an intense work ethic. They are exceptional trackers, herders, and hunters who are energetic enough to contain even large game and livestock. Lacy dogs need to be kept occupied in order to be happy, which makes them great ranch dogs—and extremely popular in Texas. Lacys have often been used to find lost livestock as well as for hunting. A Lacy dog who doesn’t have true “work” can be kept busy and happy with agility training.

  The average female Lacy dog weighs between twenty-five and forty-five pounds, while males are usually thirty-five to fifty-five pounds. Lacy dogs come in a variety of colors, although many people refer to the entire breed as Blue Lacy.

  Lacy dogs come in three colors. Blue Lacys are the most well-known and sought-after of the Lacy dogs. They have beautiful, eye-catching fur that appears blue-gray and ranges in shade from slate to silvery-black. Red Lacy dogs can range from light beige to a dark, deep red. And tricolored Lacy dogs are blue with red and white markings.

  The Lacy dog was recognized by the Texas legislature in 2001 as a “true Texas breed.” In 2005, the governor signed a document making the Blue Lacy the official state dog breed of Texas. When the mascot of Texas A&M University passed away in 2008, many rallied for the Blue Lacy to become the well-known symbol, but the university decided to stick with the collie, a breed they’d been using for years.

  Lacy dogs do best when treated like a member of a team, rather than a family pet. Their herding instinct and high energy can make them too much for small children to handle. A Lacy dog needs firm direction and focus. They aren’t necessarily friendly with other dogs and they may not respond well to cats or other small animals.

  Lacy dogs require minimal grooming and have sleek, tight fur. They do shed, but not excessively, and they tend to be a healthy breed. Their life span is twelve to sixteen years.

  Lacy dogs are one of the most intelligent, trainable dog breeds around. If given a job that engages them, they will flourish and be a devoted working companion. Lacy dogs are loyal and don’t quit until the job is done.

  A huge variety of both purebred and mixed-breed dogs are available for adoption from your local pet rescue. It is important to think carefully about how your family will care for and interact with a dog, so you can choose a breed that’s just right for your household. If you have questions about whether a certain type of dog is right for you, contact a local veterinarian or your local rescue, or do a thorough Internet search to find the dog that would fit best with your family. This helps keep more dogs from returning to shelters and will help you enjoy a lifetime of happiness with your pet.

  ★ Acknowledgments ★

  * * *

  Dogs rule. But if you have to be around humans, you couldn’t do better than these folks: Emilia Rhodes, Catherine Onder, and the sales, marketing, and publicity teams at HMH. Les Morgenstein, Josh Bank, Sara Shandler, Romy Golan, and Laura Barbiea at Alloy Entertainment. Robin Straus, Katelyn Hales, Allen Zadoff, and my book better half, Hayley Wagreich. Thank you all!

  Thank you to the people who love and feed me, and give me the occasional treat: Brian, the goons, Virginia Wing, Kunsang Bhuti, Tenzin Dekyi, and Vida (who is not a person, but who made the list on cuteness alone).

  ★ Chapter 1 ★

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  * * *

  Hannah pretended to study the rows of bagged salad mix and baby spinach as another shopper pushed a cart past her. She felt more than saw the man’s eyes on her as he walked by. She kept the right side of her face turned away, her long, straight brown hair falling across her cheek like a curtain. She wished her mom would hurry up and finish picking out produce. She wanted to be back in her room, away
from all the eyes turned in her direction.

  It wasn’t that people hadn’t stared at Hannah in Michigan—they had. But her friends and teachers never treated her any differently because of the blotchy, reddish-purple birthmark that covered almost half of her face. Her friends had made it easier to ignore the sneaked glances and curious stares of strangers. But ever since her family had moved to California, the stares felt heavy and uncomfortable.

  “Hannah, come see these avocados!” her mom exclaimed.

  “We had avocados in Michigan,” Hannah muttered to the spinach.

  “Yes, but not like these.” Her mom wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered Hannah over to a pyramid of fruit. “We’ll make guacamole. You love guacamole. It’ll be even better because these are local!”

  Her mom’s voice had skipped into its too-cheerful tone, which had happened a lot since they’d moved to Deerwood. She kept saying things like This is just like your favorite thing, only better!

  Except everything was worse here.

  Hannah used to love making guacamole with her best friend, Linnea. They’d mash a big bowl of it, then sit on the living room floor with a bag of those tortilla chips in the shape of tiny little scoops. They’d eat the whole bowl while they watched movies. Local avocados wouldn’t make up for her friend—for all of her friends—being so far away.

  The scene her mom was making over the avocados was drawing even more stares.

  “Okay, fine,” Hannah said. “Can we just go?”

  Hannah had wanted to stay home and hide with a book among the huge trees behind their house, away from the crying twins. But as soon as her dad returned from dropping her little sister off at soccer camp and the twins had gone down for their nap, her mom had decided they needed mother-daughter bonding time. Being dragged across town just to go to Safeway for groceries wasn’t Hannah’s idea of bonding, even with her mom’s promise that they could stop for ice cream on the boardwalk on the way home.