“Nice, man!”
Tuck panted happily.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
They had to switch cars three more times to keep up with the bus. By their third hop, Tuck was leading the way, picking a car and jumping in without even waiting for Patsy and Brodie.
The last car was Brodie’s favorite.
He didn’t care that it had soft leather seats and a clean floor. He didn’t care that the driver was listening to nice piano music on the radio. He didn’t even notice, actually.
But there was a kid in the car. She was in the backseat. Reading a book. She had a backpack on the seat next to her. Sure, she was a girl. And, yeah, she was probably a year or two younger than Aiden was.
But still.
Her eyes were sleepy and puffy, like he remembered Aiden’s had been in the morning.
Her pants were just a little too short for her growing legs just like most of Aiden’s were, showing the brown skin of her ankle and the white of her sock.
As she read she smiled softly to herself from time to time, or pursed her lips, or raised her eyebrows at what was happening in the story. Just like Aiden did.
Brodie sat in the other backseat. Just looking at her.
Tuck and Patsy were in the front seat, watching the bus and arguing over whether they should upgrade to a car with a cleaner windshield. But Brodie ignored them. He just sat in the backseat, watching the girl’s face as she read, watching the way she brushed her curly black hair out of her eyes, or rubbed at her nose, or sighed at the words on the page. Just watching the kidness of her. Just looking for little echoes of the boy he was seeking.
Because Brodie? That dog loved. He just loved. A lot.
Finally, though, his watching was broken by Tuck’s voice.
“The bus is stopping, buddy! Behind a bunch of other buses!”
Their car was slowing, too, pulling over to the side of the road.
The girl folded down the corner of the page she was reading and slid the book into her backpack, then zipped it closed.
Tuck looked out the window.
He saw the brick building. The flagpole. The double front door. The stream of shouting, chattering kids walking inside.
“Hop out,” he said. “We’re here.”
“There’s no use going in, you know.” Patsy was sitting next to the sidewalk, out of the way of the last few kids still straggling into the building.
“What are you talking about?” Brodie asked, pacing back and forth.
“This is a huge school,” she said. “Look at it.”
And it was. The main building was three stories tall, and there were at least four smaller buildings around it. This had been Aiden’s first year going to this school—middle school, Brodie remembered him saying—and it was way bigger than the school he’d gone to before.
“Hundreds of kids in there,” Patsy went on. “Over a thousand, probably.” The new words—hundreds, thousand—sprang into meaning in Brodie’s head and he understood them. And he understood the truth in them. “You could walk around all day and never find him in there.”
Brodie looked at the building full of countless kids, crowds of kids who were the wrong one, but that’s not what he saw; what he saw was the right one, Aiden, somewhere in there, waiting to be found.
“You think I’m not gonna go find him, after all I went through to get here?” Brodie asked with raised fur, lifting his lip at Patsy and stepping toward the school.
Patsy yawned.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she sniffed. “This ain’t life or death, kibble-for-brains. You’re already dead, remember? I’m just saying if you were smart, which you ain’t, you’d just wait for—”
“I’m not waiting for anything,” Brodie interrupted. “I’m going in. I’m finding my boy.”
Brodie trotted forward, toward the double front doors of the school.
“Don’t be an idiot!” Patsy called after him, but Brodie didn’t slow down.
“All right!” Tuck exclaimed, jogging to catch up and run beside Brodie. “I always wanted to go inside a school! Hey … have you learned the word cafeteria yet, buddy?”
Brodie hadn’t, but as soon as Tuck said the word, he got it. An image came together in his mind: a big room of long tables of kids. Kids eating food from trays. Food. Of course.
Brodie shook his head.
“Focus, Tuck,” he said. “We’re not here to find pizza crusts.”
“Who said anything about pizza crusts?” Tuck asked. “I was hoping for something more along the lines of hot dogs. You ever had a hot dog?”
Brodie had. Despite himself, he licked his lips at the salty memory that surfaced in his mind.
“No,” he lied. “And I need you to concentrate. You gotta help me find Aiden.”
“Okay, okay,” Tuck said. “What’s he look like?”
“Uh …” Brodie thought about it. Aiden just looked like … Aiden. “Well, he’s a boy.”
“Yeah. I got that part.”
“Short hair. Brownish. Like that kid’s, but a little longer,” Brodie said, gesturing with his nose at a boy walking in front of them. “About the same height as that girl with the skateboard, I think. And …” Brodie peered through the fog in his brain and looked closer at the most recent memory he had besides the monstrous one. He found the memory of throwing snowballs with him in the park, the happy memory filled with laughter and smiles, up until the end. “And he’s got a blue coat. A big puffy one.”
“All right,” Tuck said, looking around. “Boy in blue coat. Got it.”
The school doors closed in front of them. Through the doors, Brodie could hear a muted, echoey roar. It was hundreds of voices. Thousands of footsteps. Doors slamming, books dropping, shouted laughter, stamping boots. And, somewhere in that roar, one quiet boy who meant everything.
“Let’s do it,” Brodie said, and then he leapt through the doors with Tuck by his side.
What did they leap into? Absolute madness.
There were legs and feet everywhere. People screaming, yelling names, running and dancing and shoving. Backpacks being tossed, metal lockers crashing shut, snow-wet shoes squeaking on the muddy tile floor. More smells than you could wag your snout at, more sounds than ears could ever take in.
There was no way for Brodie and Tuck to dodge the kids, no room to stand off to the side. Kids passed through them, one after another, giving Brodie a shivery, rubbed-the-wrong-way feeling. He slunk to the side, spun, ducked, but it was no use. A parade of clueless kids walked right through Brodie’s ghostly form, and each time it felt a little worse.
Even Tuck’s wag lost some of its energy. He danced and darted, trying his best to find clear space to stand in—but he didn’t find much, and what he found didn’t last long. Some of the kids sort of shivered and stuttered when their living bodies touched Brodie’s and Tuck’s sparkling spirits, but most didn’t even seem to notice.
“Let’s go with the flow!” Brodie called. “Walk with them, it’ll be easier!”
He slipped into the stream of traffic, sidling along between the clusters of kids, and it was better. He was able to slip between most of them without getting touched. He glanced back and saw Tuck doing the same thing behind him, walking between two girls tossing a basketball back and forth.
Brodie only made it a little ways down the hall, though, before his bubble of space collapsed and one, then two, then four kids waded blindly through him.
Up ahead, he saw a clear space. A little alcove off the main hallway, with windows looking out on the front lawn. “There, Tuck!” he called out, and surged forward through the crowd to reach it.
There was only just enough room to stand beneath the windows, but that’s all they needed. Tuck scrambled to stand beside him, and they looked at the passing sea of rowdy kids.
“This is crazy,” Tuck said.
“Yeah,” Brodie admitted. “And … that feeling, when they walk through us. Why does it feel so bad?”
“What do you mean, our shine? What’s that have to do with anything?”
“It ain’t just walking and sniffing and hellhounds that cost you shine, dogface. Anytime you touch the living—even though you can’t really touch them—it wears your soul down. Every little brush, every little scrape. Every time one of these brats passes through you, you lose a little of your shine.”
The cat tilted her head, looking at Brodie and Tuck.
“Yeah. You already lost some, both of you. You already got less than when you walked in here a minute ago.” Her ear went back and her eyes narrowed. “All that beautiful shine, wasted.”
“So, what do you think we should do?” Tuck asked.
“I already told you,” she spat. “Quit wasting your time and your shine. Get the hell out of there.”
“No way,” Brodie said.
“Did you see him? Did you even really look?” Patsy demanded.
Brodie averted his eyes, dodging Patsy’s drilling stare.
Because Brodie? The truth was, he’d forgotten to look. In all that craziness, in all the body-dodging and shine-losing, he’d forgotten to even try and find his boy.
But Brodie couldn’t stand to admit that the cat was right.
“If you’re not gonna help us,” he snarled up at the scornful cat head, “then shut up. We’re gonna go find him.”
“Wait … hold on a sec!” Tuck said. A kid had stopped next to them to check something on his phone, and he’d set his backpack down on the floor. Tuck was sniffing the air … then he shoved his head through the fabric and into the backpack. His tail jumped into a high wag, and when he pulled his head back out, his eyes were sparkling. “This kid’s got peanut butter and jelly!”
Patsy shot a withering look at Brodie.
“Well, if you got that genius helping you, what do you need me for?”
Brodie growled at her, and then turned and dashed back out into the hallway chaos.
He slid his way back into the stream of screaming kids, this time keeping his eyes up, scanning faces and looking for that one. He tried to sidestep, tried to slither and slip, but no matter what he did, he still felt hands, feet, legs pass through him. And each time, he felt the dip … the small but draining drip of his soul fading away.
He heard Tuck behind him, calling for him to slow down … but still he pressed on, his eyes always upward.
He saw smiling faces and worried faces, angry faces and hurried faces, brown faces and white faces and boy faces and girl faces … but he didn’t see an Aiden face.
Borne along in the crowd of legs, Brodie passed another window alcove.
Patsy’s flea-bitten face appeared again through a window.
“Stop being an idiot!” she hissed. “You’re throwing your soul away for nothing! Do you ever wanna see that stupid kid again? Get over here!”
Brodie almost kept going … but then a whole group of kids, chasing and hollering, stampeded straight through him before he could get away. He felt it then … felt the excruciating tear of one of his shine lights ripping off and drifting away. Maybe even two.
Brodie whimpered, then growled, then darted with his tail between his legs to huddle under Patsy’s head in the alcove.
When Tuck joined him, his ears were down, and even Brodie could see that the black dog had less shine than he’d had, less wag to his tail.
“This isn’t working, buddy,” Tuck said apologetically.
“No,” Brodie admitted. “I don’t think it is.”
Brodie stood, looking hopelessly up at all the wrong faces passing by.
“Listen,” Patsy said, and her voice had lost some of its nasty edge. “There’s a hundred rooms in this school. By the time you get to the fifth one, you’ll be lucky to have any shine left at all. Your soul will be gone, all that shine squandered, long before you ever find your kid. If you even do.”
“So, what, you’re saying I should give up?”
“No. I’m saying you should wise up. Every step you take, every breath of air you smell, every dumb kid that passes through you, you’re losing soul. And for nothing. You know your kid’s here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know he’s walking out those front doors in a few hours, right?”
“Yeah.”
“All right then, dummy. Why don’t we sit out front and wait for him? He’ll walk out, you’ll be right there to find him, and you’ll still have all your brainless soul to spare. It ain’t that tough to figure out, even for a dog.”
Brodie looked to Tuck.
“I hate to say it, buddy,” Tuck said. “But I think the cat’s right.”
“Really?” Patsy asked. “Huh. Now I’m starting to doubt myself.”
Brodie was just about to admit to Patsy that she was right when Tuck’s breathless voice cut him off.
“Oh. My. God.”
His whole body had gone stiff, and his eyes were locked wide, staring at something across the crowded corridor.
Brodie craned his neck, trying to see through the forest of legs to what Tuck was looking at.
“What? Do you see Aiden?”
Then the legs cleared for a moment, and he saw what had electrified the pit bull.
It was not a boy with brown hair and a blue coat.
It was a big room, with long tables, and kids eating food off plastic trays.
Tuck raised his snout, tasting the air.
“Do you smell that?” he asked, then turned intense eyes on Brodie. “It’s bacon, buddy. Bacon. And … wait a minute … oh. Oh, man.” The dog’s eyes closed and his nostrils flared. “Pancakes. With syrup.” He opened his eyes and looked back and forth between Brodie and Patsy. “You never told me they served breakfast at school.”
“What?” Brodie asked. “Why would we—”
But it was too late. Tuck had already bolted, charging through the crowd to get to the cafeteria.
Brodie caught up to him just as he skidded to a stop inside.
“Tuck, seriously, we’ve gotta—”
“I know, I know. Just give me a minute, all right?” He stood, drinking in the air with his nose.
Brodie did a double take when Patsy scurried up beside them, her ear back and fur raised. Her head swiveled and her eyes darted, watching for oncoming feet.
“God, I hate kids,” she growled.
“Then you’re an idiot,” Brodie said. “Kids are the best.”
“Whatever. Let’s get out of here. Save this moron’s shine, and yours. And in a little while, we’ll—”
Patsy’s voice stopped short.
She was staring at a girl, sitting by herself at a table, sipping milk with a straw and reading a book.
“It’s her,” Patsy said, and her voice was the softest that Brodie had ever heard it. “It’s her.”
“It’s who?” Brodie asked.
Patsy blinked a few times, then shook her head, looking away from the girl.
“No one,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Tuck insisted. “You know that girl? Who is she?”
“I told you, she’s no one.”
But Tuck wasn’t budging.
“Oh, she’s someone,” Tuck said, trotting toward the girl.
“Leave her alone,” Patsy growled.
“What, was she your owner or something?”
Patsy’s tail whipped angrily.
“I didn’t have any owner. I ain’t no pet. She was … just a kid I knew.”
“You?” Tuck snorted. “I thought you were just a stray. How’d you know a girl?”
Patsy’s body was still tight with anger, but her voice had a different edge to it. Or, really, no edge at all. When she spoke, her eyes weren’t on Tuck or Brodie, but on the girl.
“Her family owns a restaurant do
wntown. They had one of the best dumpsters in town. Salmon skins. Chicken bones. Premium stuff. When they caught me eating, they’d shout and shoo me off. Like everybody else. But not her. She snuck me food, real food, in her pockets. She petted me. Talked to me. When I rubbed against her leg, she didn’t kick me away.”
Her eyes left the girl, and found Brodie’s.
“She’s the one that gave me the name Patsy. That’s what she called me. She’s the only person who ever called me anything. Well, the only one who called me anything nice.”
They all looked at the girl for a moment.
She had thick glasses, and a purple turtleneck sweater. She was focused intently on the book in front of her, her lips moving soundlessly as she read.
All the other kids in the cafeteria were sitting in groups, laughing and talking with fast, loud voices. But Patsy’s girl sat quietly, with only her book for company.
“Why is she all alone?” Tuck asked.
“Shut up,” Patsy said. “There’s nothing wrong with being alone.”
“No, it’s just that—”
At that moment, an empty milk carton flew from a crowd of kids at the next table. It bounced off the girl’s tray and splattered the pages of her book. The other kids laughed; loud, mean guffaws. A kid with spiky black hair in the middle smirked and collected high fives from the boys around him.
Patsy’s girl didn’t look up. She didn’t shoot them a dirty look, or roll her eyes, or call a teacher over.
She swallowed. Her face flushed red. She quietly, carefully used her sleeve to wipe the milk from her book. And she kept reading. But Brodie could see the wetness in her eyes. He could see the tears she was fighting back.
And Patsy? Patsy could see them, too.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, turning back toward the hallway.
“What?” Tuck asked. “Don’t you wanna—”
“No,” Patsy spat. “I don’t wanna.”
And she left. She walked across the hallway, and out through the wall under the windows. And she didn’t look back. Not once.
After a moment, Tuck and Brodie followed her.
So, outside … they settled in to wait.
Brodie sighed. The last bus pulled away. Only a couple of kids were still finding their way inside.
Good Dog Page 9
