Buster

by Caleb Huett

  “We can’t tell him!” Mozart yipped in his little puppy voice. “How do we know he won’t tell on us?”

  “Good question.” Leila looked me right in the eyes. “Did Dog Court put you up to this? Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

  I bared my teeth. “Absolutely not. I just want to help.”

  “What do you think, Jpeg?”

  She shrugged. “He’s a nerd, but he’s not dumb. And besides—” She flipped her laptop around and showed all of us the screen. One tap and it started playing a video.

  Me, squinting and lit only by a screen. My paws tapping at a keyboard. “Buster?” Tonio’s voice. My face shot to the side, and I froze. “Wuh—uh, wuh—” he babbled, and I jumped away from the computer screen. “RRR!” I growled, and you could see the edge of a keyboard flopping around in the dim light. “RRRRRR, I’m just a DUMB DOG who HATES COMPUTERS!”

  “Hey, uh, down! Down, dog!” Tonio’s nervous hands wiggling across the screen. “Don’t break the computer, please!”

  “What IS THIS THI—” and then the video cut out. Jpeg turned the laptop back around.

  “It’s a good thing you clicked that last link I sent you. Gave me your webcam’s direct feed.” Jpeg shook her head and clicked her special keyboard quickly. “If he tells the officers, I can show them this. Caught red-pawed by a human on the computer, like some kind of amateur!”

  My heart dropped down into my stomach. I’ll never click a link again in my life. “Please don’t show anyone that,” I whispered. “I can’t get in trouble again. Please.”

  “What do you think about that, pup?” Leila knelt down onto the ground to look Mozart in the eyes. “Can we tell him?”

  He bobbed his little nose in thought. “Okay,” he decided. “But if he ruins anything for Mia, we send it.” He looked at me and held out his cute paw, too big for his tiny body. “Shake?”

  I took a long breath, decided I had no other choice, and shook. “Good boy,” he yipped seriously.

  “Good boy,” I repeated, to seal the deal.

  Mozart looked up at Jpeg, who looked at Leila, who looked back at Mozart. Mozart shrugged and took the lead. “She’s leaving. We’re leaving.”

  “Leaving … where?”

  “Leaving Bellville. We’re going to Cold Dorito.”

  “Colorado,” Leila corrected.

  “That’s what I said! Sloan lives in Collared Rat-o, and so we’re going to go there, too.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Like on vacation, or … ?”

  “No.” Mozart rolled his eyes around like I was being dense. “Like forever. Mia doesn’t like it in Bellville anymore, because Sloan’s not here, but Sloan is in Code Lyoko.” He said it all with the simple energy of a puppy—this was the truth, and it was obvious. My tongue flopped out of my surprised mouth.

  “She’s running away? And you’re helping her?” I know there were a lot of things I could have thought in that moment, but my first worry was about Tonio. He was just now finally making a friend, and because of me, it was someone who was already on their way out of town. He’d be devastated, it would give him even more reason to hide from school, and it would all be my fault. “Tonio and Mia just became friends, and now she’s leaving?”

  “He’ll make other friends.”

  “So will she! How could you—” I should have found this out sooner. I shouldn’t have told Jpeg about the tournament. They should have told me that—

  No. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to fall down the same kind of spiral I’d watched Tonio go down. He didn’t need me to freak out, too; he needed me to focus. And right now, I still needed more information.

  “Are you okay?” Leila asked. I nodded.

  “So this is why she’s been saving money,” I said. “For the trip.” Now it was their turn to nod. I took another deep breath and tried to consider it from their perspective. They wanted to help Mia, right? I thought about what I always wished people would do for Tonio: ask questions. Dig deeper before they thought they knew the right thing to do. That’s what I should have done in the first place, before I messed with both of their lives. “Why does she want to leave? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not really about what’s wrong,” Leila started. Jpeg pulled the top of her laptop down to look over it and help explain.

  “Bellville’s fine. The Lins are great. The problem is that Mia just doesn’t care about any of it. She cared about Sloan.”

  “Mia’s so sad now.” Mozart flattened himself onto the ground and rested his chin on his paws. “She’s been sad the whole time I’ve been alive. Even though I’m cute and she loves me!!!”

  I thought about how quickly Mia had lashed out about Sloan, and how many times her tough front had cracked through in front of Tonio. She was definitely carrying around some big emotions. “But why Sloan?” I pressed. “Why is she worth running across the country for?”

  “Not many people are patient, with Mia.”

  “That kid never stops moving.” Jpeg smirked. “She’s always got big ideas, big plans, and she drops them and starts new ones on a dime. It’s a lot to keep up with.”

  “It’s fun!” Mozart yipped.

  “But also, sometimes, exhausting. Sloan never acted like she was a problem, like she was ‘too much.’ Mia needs that in her life.” Leila tugged Jpeg into her stomach for a big hug. “It’s not fair that they can just separate kids like that. I’d never leave Jpeg for the world!”

  “Back atcha, you big jock.” Jpeg grunted. “You’re squishing me, though.”

  “She can’t just show up at Sloan’s house, though, right?”

  Mozart’s ears flattened defensively. “Why not? People get adopted all the time!”

  “Yeah, dogs do, and humans that need families. But Mia has a family—and you don’t know that Sloan’s parents are able to take care of another kid.”

  Leila looked confused. “But when they lived in Bellville, Mia was over at their house every day. They were together all the time.”

  “That’s different.” I realized that Jpeg and Leila had spent almost no time with humans. They’d been in this shelter or another their whole lives, and Mozart was barely four months old. I’d lived with, and learned from, humans since I was a puppy, so this situation seemed obvious to me. “If she goes, they won’t let her stay. At best, she’ll be there for a few days and then they’ll make her come back home, which will cost more money and make everybody feel bad, especially her parents.”

  “You don’t know that!” Mozart growled. “Mia needs to be happy again!”

  “Y’all have to trust me. This is a bad idea.”

  “He’s lying!” Mozart turned to Jpeg and Leila. “This is just because he wants Mia to stay with his boy.”

  I sighed and closed my eyes again. Think. “Okay, how about this? Jpeg, do you know Sloan’s email?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you contact her anonymously, and say what’s going on?” I paced back and forth in front of the group. “If she tells Mia it’s okay, and that she should come, then great, I’m wrong, but at least then Mia isn’t showing up by surprise. If she says not to come, you’ll see that I’m right.”

  “No way!” Mozart yipped.

  “Mia might have a good reason for not mentioning it,” Leila started, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. She was listening to me.

  I tried to speak as kindly and gently as possible. “I think Mia hasn’t told Sloan her plan because she knows it won’t work. And either way, you have to stop helping her find money. The Officers are onto you, and Mozart will get sent somewhere far from Cold Dorito if you’re not careful.”

  Three tails twitched in thought. Then, after a moment, Jpeg said, “I’ll do it.” She pushed her laptop open and went back to click-clacking.

  “I don’t like this,” Mozart grumbled.

  Leila sighed and patted the top of his head with her paw. “Buster’s right, little one.”

  “I think …” I tried to fin
d the right words. “Sometimes it’s easy to do what someone wants, but you have to help with what they need.”

  “BUSTER?” Tonio had his hands cupped around his mouth and was calling from the edge of the forest. “BUSTER!”

  “I have to go.” I nudged Mozart, who was glaring unhappily into the ground. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Everything will be all right.”

  “Whatever.”

  Jpeg nodded goodbye over her computer, and Leila sat back on her hind legs to wave like a bear.

  I trotted up to Tonio. He clipped on my leash, and we walked home without a word. He looked so tense … I wished there was something I could do, but I had to leave my faith in the plan. I’m doing all I can, I thought. All a Good Dog can do, and then some.

  I just hoped it was enough.

  I’d spent a lot of time around Mia now, and I noticed right away something was off when she got to Tonio’s the next day. She wasn’t lying, exactly, but she sounded strained. Like she was working really hard to sound like she normally did—and not quite making it. Her eyes were just a little puffy, and red.

  Tonio noticed, too. “Are you okay?” She looked away, self-conscious for the first time I’d ever noticed, and waved a hand back at him like he had said something ridiculous.

  “I’m fine!” It sounded perfectly convincing, if you didn’t know Mia. I tilted my head in confusion, then realized Tonio had tilted his head at the exact same time.

  They sat down in his room, and Mia immediately began shuffling her cards. Tonio grabbed one of his new decks and tapped the corner of the cards against his leg a few times before finally saying, “I need to tell you something.”

  Mia’s eyes shot up, fake smile melting away and a sudden force in her gaze. “Did you tell her?” she snapped.

  Oh no. Jpeg’s email must have gotten through. I hadn’t even considered that Mia might think Tonio had—

  “What?” Tonio’s confusion was so genuine it couldn’t possibly be a lie, and I saw Mia relax right away. “Tell who?”

  “Sorry, nothing.” She counted seven cards and fanned them out in front of her. “I’ve just had kind of a bad morning. But this is fun, and I just …” She swallowed and rubbed at her eyes. “I just want to have fun. For a second. What were you going to tell me?”

  Tonio’s heartbeat spiked up through the ruff. Excuse me, roof. “Never mind. It can wait.”

  What was he going to tell her? I wondered. His face didn’t give me any hints. What was I missing?

  They played a few turns of the game in silence, and Mia won very quickly because Tonio was distracted. “You had Auntie Virus in your hand and didn’t play her? Why not?”

  “Oh, I just—I didn’t realize that I could—”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Tonio. You don’t have to let me win.”

  He blushed. “You just seemed like—like maybe you were—”

  “Don’t.” She shuffled her cards and splayed out another starting hand. Tonio reset the hand-drawn cards they were using to represent Spirit Batteries. “That’s annoying. I want to play the game for real.”

  “Okay.” His blush rose through his whole face and ears. “I’m sorry.”

  They played another game, but this time, Tonio was so clearly stuck in his head that he made some really bad moves, and Mia kept stopping him and having him redo his turn so he wouldn’t just lose. Around the tenth time he’d apologized, she tossed her cards down and stared at him. “Do I just need to go home? What’s the deal?”

  He didn’t—or couldn’t—look up from his deck. He swallowed, squeezed his eyes tight, then finally forced them up to look at her. I thought, What could be so bad that he—

  “I think I’m moving. At the end of the summer.”

  Oh.

  Mia’s posture stiffened straight up and back, like a snake trying to scare someone away. Her face didn’t change, but her eyes looked like they were going to drill directly into Tonio’s head. “Are you messing with me?”

  “No, I—”

  “Because it’s not funny if you are.” Her words came out poisonous, disgusted. Tonio shrank and looked away.

  “My parents think it’s the best thing if I go to a new school.”

  Mia’s face settled back into a bored expression, even though I could tell she was choking down some very strong feelings under the surface.

  She said, “Okay,” and then stood up to leave.

  “We can still play,” Tonio tried, voice weak. “The tournament is less than a week away, and I’ll still—”

  “No thanks.” Mia shot him a quick, meaningless smile. “I only needed your help to get the money. And now—” Her face broke, and some of that anger came back into her expression. “Since I don’t need it anyway, who cares? We weren’t really friends, either way.”

  A sharp inhale from Tonio, who was trying his best to seem calm, like her, and failing. I looked back and forth between them, desperate for something I could do or say, but I was just a dog. I was a dog in the middle of two kids who didn’t really know what the other was going through, and didn’t know how to ask.

  I felt Tonio’s heartbeat hammering in his chest as he searched for something to say. Every option probably looked bad from where he was.

  When Mia realized he wasn’t going to say anything else, she shook her head and turned away. “You should move!” She yanked his door open and didn’t look back. “This place is the worst.”

  I expected a panic attack, so I stood up immediately and turned to throw myself on Tonio’s lap, trying to distract him from his anxiety—but his face had the same scary look it had after talking to his dad. Worse than panic, and worse than sadness: nothing.

  “At least you’re here,” Tonio said, and that would have made me feel better if it hadn’t sounded so empty. He scratched me behind the ears and took several deep breaths. Eventually, he stood up. “Let’s go downstairs, okay, boy? I want to try something.”

  Three plastic cups sat, upside down, in a line on Tonio’s carpet. One of them covered a treat—Tonio showed me when he placed it underneath—and the other two were empty. A stopwatch clicked in Tonio’s hand. “Okay, get the treat, Buster!”

  I was being tested. Of course I knew the center cup held the treat—he’d put it there right in front of me. But this was only one part of an intelligence test, the kind we’re taught how to fake when we’re puppies. I figured it was safe to answer this one correctly, and quickly. I knocked over the center cup and ate the treat.

  “Good boy!” That’s what Tonio wanted: a fast response. Proof that I might be as smart as he was imagining. Next he threw a towel over my head, and I shook it off immediately. (There were two other options, each dumber than the one before: Wait a while before shaking it off, or never take it off and whine until a human did.)

  The internet is full of all sorts of tests like this, and I know how to handle them. Getting a slightly above-average score would make sense, since service dogs should be smart—but I needed to stop far short of perfect.

  We went downstairs. He kicked a treat under the coffee table, where I’d have to get it with my paws. “Get it, Buster!”

  This was one I needed to fail. I sniffed at the edge of the table—the treat’s smell mixed in with years of tiny flecks of food and dust created a big mishmash of feelings in my nose, which delivered them extra blurry since I was so close. I made a big show of trying to stick my nose under the table, then pulled it out and looked at Tonio to whine.

  His face shifted, just a little, into disappointment. I’m sorry, Tonio, I thought. But I have to be a dog. Even now—and I want to stress this for the Court—I didn’t plan on doing anything.

  “Try this. Look.” Tonio leaned over and used his hand to grab the treat. He showed it to me, then put it back under the table. “Now you go.”

  This one was tougher. I probably could get away with having learned this just now, from him, and suggest that I’m an especially smart dog. But if I didn’t, if I failed again even now, that wo
uld probably put everything to rest in Tonio’s mind. He’d believe I was just a dog.

  So I failed. I leaned my nose down again, sniffed, and whined some more. I even patted the ground with my paws for good measure. “Yeah, those! Come on!” Tonio patted the ground with his hands, too, and pushed his hand under the table. “You can do it!”

  I can’t do it, I thought. Let it go.

  “Come on.” He grabbed the treat and showed it to me again, more urgently this time. His voice sounded strained. “You can do it. Good boy. Get the treat.” I poked at the table with my nose once more, then sat down and looked at him with the most confused expression I could muster. He bit his lip.

  “Okay. So not that one. Let’s try this.” He wasn’t even writing my scores down. He grabbed a couple cardboard boxes with the Tomorrow Grocery rocket ship on them from the recycling pile and carried them upstairs. He cut out one big cardboard wall, cut a hole in the middle, and wedged it between the other two boxes. “Come here. Sit.” I followed his hand and sat in front of the box.

  “Now look at me.” I watched him through the hole in the box. “Good.” He placed the treat down on the other side of the cardboard, then stepped back. “Now get the treat!”

  I was impressed he’d taken the time to build the whole thing, but this was another test I’d seen before. The best score would be to walk around the box right away, and the worst would be to plow into the cardboard and push it to the treat. I opted for a middle ground: I stared at the treat through the hole, tried to stick my nose through again, and when that didn’t work, I sniffed around the bottom of the box until I found the edge by “accident” and trotted over to the treat.

  Tonio watched me eat the peanut butter rolled up in crunchy something with a look of horror on his face. “I thought …” He pushed his bandanna up higher on his head, tugging the curls back. “At the training center, you listened! You knew I was worried about allergies and you talked me out of it. And you were on the computer, and—”