“They’ve done studies,” Billy said. “Murals are a good way to combat graffiti. Graffiti artists respect other artists. Murals also beautify a neighborhood, and if they’re well done, they can even educate people. We want to do ours on—”
Suddenly his eyes skipped from my face to somewhere over my shoulder. He shrank a little in his seat. I turned around to see what the problem was.
Terrific.
I looked back at Billy.
“Of all the people who had to walk in here, it had to be him,” I said. “Don’t look. Maybe he won’t notice us.”
No such luck.
Behind me Evan Wilson called, “Hey, Billy. There you are.”
There you are? It sounded almost as if Evan had come in looking for Billy.
“Tell me this is a coincidence,” I said under my breath. “Tell me you didn’t plan this.”
“I didn’t. Honest,” Billy said. He looked miserable.
“He isn’t coming over here, is he, Billy?” I said. “Please tell me he isn’t coming over here.”
Billy sank lower in his seat.
A hand fell on my shoulder.
“Robyn,” Evan said, giving me a little squeeze. “Good to see you again.”
I glowered at Billy, who shook his head and mouthed the word, “Honest.”
“Hey, Robyn, what you did at that protest was awesome,” Evan said. He dropped into the empty chair beside me.
“That was an accident,” I said. The sooner he found out that I was not the earnest, dedicated activist that he thought I was, the sooner he’d (maybe) leave me alone.
“Yeah, well, it was still awesome. Because of what you did, we got news coverage—print and TV.”
Things just kept getting better.
“But they didn’t show your picture, Robyn,” Billy said quickly. “They didn’t even mention your name. They just said there was a scuffle.”
“So, Robyn,” Evan said, grinning and leaning toward me. “Now that you’re so into protesting, I was wondering—”
I stood up.
“I just remembered I’m low on cash,” I said.
“But this is supposed to be my tr—”
I silenced Billy with a sharp look.
“I have to run out to the ATM,” I said. “I won’t be long.” As I circled the table, I bent and whispered into Billy’s ear: “Make him go away.” I headed for the door. Before I pushed it open and stepped outside, I glanced back at the table. Billy was looking forlornly at me. I ignored him. My plan: I would give Billy five minutes to get rid of Evan. If he hadn’t done the job by the time I returned, well, then I would just have to do my very best Morgan impression and get rid of him myself.
There was a cash machine two blocks from the restaurant, near the bus stop. I’d spotted it when I arrived and had been planning to hit it before we went to the movies—I really was low on cash. I headed for it and took out some money. I was waiting to cross the street on my way back to the restaurant when a bus pulled up. Its doors opened, and a young woman struggled down the rear steps with a brand-new stroller heaped high with colorful bags and boxes. A bouquet of balloons was tied with ribbon to the handle of the stroller. Baby shower, I guessed.
One of the stroller wheels got wedged in the bus door, and the young woman looked flustered as she tried to work it free. I hurried over to give her a hand. She was wearing a waitress uniform from a chain restaurant and a name tag that said Angie.
“Thank you,” she said when we had finally freed the stroller. Her face was flushed, and her round belly strained at the fabric of her uniform.
“Do you need help with that?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “I live right there.” She gestured to an apartment building almost directly opposite the vegan restaurant. “But thanks, anyway.” Suddenly her face brightened, and she raised an arm and waved. She pushed her over-burdened stroller toward a guy with rust-colored hair who was about to enter the apartment building. He turned and started toward her. As I crossed the street, I heard her say, “Did you get the job?”
The bad news: when I got back to the restaurant, Evan was still there. The good news: he stood up as soon as I sat down.
“I’d better run,” he said. “Nothing worse than being a third wheel, right, Billy?” He winked at Billy and flashed him a big grin.
I watched Evan walk out of the restaurant. “What just happened?” I said.
Billy shrugged and looked down at the tablecloth.
“Evan didn’t come here because of me, did he, Billy? Because I told you yesterday that I wasn’t interested in going out with him.”
“And I told him that,” Billy said. “He called me right after I talked to you.”
“And you said, ‘Robyn’s not interested in you, Evan’—those were your exact words?”
Billy squirmed. “I think I might have said you were maybe interested in someone else—you know, so he wouldn’t keep pestering me about it. But I didn’t go into details,” he added quickly. “I didn’t think it was any of his business.”
“Not to mention that it’s not true,” I said.
Billy’s cheeks turned pink.
“It sounded to me like Evan knew you were going to be here today,” I said.
“Yeah,” Billy said. He looked around, as if he wished our food would hurry up and arrive.
“You told him, didn’t you?”
“We were just talking, you know, the way you talk to the people you work with.” He was slumped in his chair again. “I guess he just decided to take a shot.”
“Even though you told him I was interested in someone else.” Which I wasn’t.
“Well, you know Evan.”
I did. He was self-righteous and overly zealous, bordering on dogmatic. Apparently, he was also arrogant enough to think he could win me away from my (nonexistent) boyfriend. I looked across the table at Billy. There was something else going on.
“He mentioned a third wheel,” I said.“And he winked at you, Billy.”
“What?”
“Evan. He winked at you.”
“He did? I didn’t notice.”
Billy is many things, but a good liar isn’t one of them.
“What exactly did you say to make him leave, Billy?”
“Ah, um . . . ” Billy looked down at the tablecloth again. “I might have told him a sort of white lie,” he said.
“Sort of, huh?” I watched Billy squirm some more. “Such as?”
“I might have given him the impression that maybe we were here together because you were maybe interested in . . . ” His voice faded away.
“Say that again, Billy.”
“Me,” Billy said in a whisper. “It’s possible that Evan has the impression that you’re interested in me.” He dared a glance at me. “I just wanted to get rid of him like you said, Robyn. I’d never be even remotely interested in you.”
Of course not.
“Not in a million years,” he said, for emphasis. “I mean, why would I be?”
Why indeed?
“Thanks, Billy,” I said.
Thanks a lot.
. . .
I was in the staff kitchen at the animal shelter the next day, when Nick walked in. He waited until I was finished taking my lunch out of the fridge before getting his. At least, I assumed it was his lunch. It was in a brown paper bag.
I went outside. I had planned to sit at the picnic table and read while I ate. Nick was right behind me. About three feet from the table, we both realized that we were headed for the same place, and we stopped. He looked at me and then stepped back a pace.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You can have it.”
“No, you go ahead,” I said. “You and your friends have been here longer than I have.”
“They’re not here today,” he said.
“Oh.”
We stared at each other. I knew who he was, but he obviously hadn’t recognized me. I wanted to keep it that way.
He looked from me to t
he picnic table and back again. “It’s a big table,” he said. “You’ve got a book. I’ve got a book.” He nodded at the backpack slung over one shoulder. “I’m quiet when I read. I don’t even move my lips,” he said.
He seemed nice. I think that’s what threw me. I knew what he had done a few years back. I also knew from what Mr. Schuster had told me, that he hadn’t changed much. But he seemed nice, and his purple-blue eyes sparkled the way my father’s gray eyes did when he was in a particularly good mood.
“Okay,” I said.
We sat down. I unwrapped my sandwich, took the lid off my juice, and opened my book. He tipped out his lunch bag—a sandwich, an orange, some cookies and . . . dog biscuits. Two big ones wrapped in plastic. He grabbed them, shoved them into his backpack, and looked across the table at me with a guilty expression on his face.
“They’re homemade,” he said.
“You make dog biscuits?” I couldn’t picture it.
He shook his head.“Not me.There’s this bakery that I know that does. The biscuits are kind of expensive, but they’re all natural and Orion likes them.” He glanced back at the office building. “Don’t tell, okay?”
I didn’t say anything. He pulled a book from his backpack—a thick, hard-covered book about dogs. I peeked at the cover as he opened it. He had printed his name on the inside front cover in big black letters. Something else was written under that, but I couldn’t make out what it was. He also took out a yellow highlighter. Before he started reading, he looked at me again.
“I know I already asked you this,” he said, “but are you sure we haven’t met before? You look kind of familiar.”
I didn’t hesitate. “No,” I said. “I would have remembered.”
He grinned in surprise.
“Really?” he said.
I felt my cheeks burn.
“What I mean is—” I began.
“That’s okay,” he said, amused at my discomfort. “I know what you mean. I think I would have remembered too.”
For a while, we read and ate in silence. Then—I’m not sure how—we started talking. Nick was telling me what he had learned about dogs and especially what he had learned about Orion.
“Dogs are really smart,” he said. “People didn’t used to think so, but they’ve done all kinds of studies. This one guy, he wanted to see if dogs could count. So he took five meatballs and put them in one spot on the ground, and then he put just one meatball in another spot. Then he studied which meatballs the dogs would go to first. Guess what they picked, every time.”
I had no idea.
“The closest ones,” Nick said. “They went for whatever was closest, whether it was five meatballs or just one. Except,” he said, “when the five meatballs and the one meatball were the same distance from the dogs. Then they went for the five meatballs. Proving—”
“That to dogs, good food means whatever food they can get to quickest,” I said. “Kind of a whole new definition of fast food.”
Nick laughed. If I hadn’t known him from before and didn’t know why he was here now, my overall impression would have been that he had a future as a vet or a kennel owner. He really loved dogs. He glowed when he talked about Orion.
“My plan,” he said, “is to adopt Orion.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that Mr. Schuster had the same plan. Then I clamped it shut again and told myself that it was none of my business. Although I enjoyed talking to him, I was glad when my break was over and I had an excuse to leave. He didn’t know who I was. With any luck, he wouldn’t remember.
I ran into him again later in the day. I was on my way back from the kitchen with a glass of ice water when I heard a voice from inside my cubbyhole of an office.
“I told you, I’ll get it,” the voice was saying. I peeked inside. It was Nick. He was using my phone. “Relax, Joey,” he said. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll figure something out and I’ll get back to you.” Silence. “Tell her it’s going to be okay,” he said. “There’s no way I’d let that happen.” Another long pause. “It won’t be long before you’re driving again. Then it’ll all be good. You tell her I said so . . . . Yeah. Look, Joey, I gotta go.”
He hung up the phone and turned around. I could tell he was startled to see me standing there. He stared at me as if waiting for me to explain why I had been eavesdropping on his conversation.
“You’re in my office,” I said.
He looked even more surprised. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to make a call.” He glanced around. “Is there any way you could maybe not mention this to anyone?” he said.
I shrugged. It was just a phone call. What was there to mention?
He brushed past me, strode down the hall, and pushed open an exterior door. A little later when I looked out the window, I saw him on the grass with Orion, putting him through his paces. He seemed as relaxed out there with the big dog as he had been at lunch. He sure didn’t look like the violent criminal that Mr. Schuster seemed to hold in such disdain.
. . .
Toward the end of the next day, Kathy stuck her head into my office. “Need a break?” she said.
I didn’t want to appear overly eager to stop, but you can only stare at a computer screen for so long before you crave a change of scenery. I nodded.
“One of our volunteer committees is meeting in about half an hour,” she said, “and we’re shorthanded. Would you mind helping Janet set up?”
“No problem.”
She told me where to find Janet. “The quickest way,” she said, “is to go out that door.” She pointed down the hall. “Then cut across to the adoption center.” The adoption center was located near the parking lot.
I followed her directions and reached the parking lot just as a van pulled to a stop and its driver tooted the horn. Nick and his friends surged toward it from a patch of shade where they had been waiting. I glanced at Nick. He was looking at me, but there was nothing friendly about his expression. I ducked my head and tried to skirt the group, unnoticed, but Nick planted himself in my path.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s been bugging me since the first day, but now I know who you are.” His purple-blue eyes were as hard as amethyst. “You’re the girl who turned me in.”
“Aren’t you going to deny it?” he said. He was standing so close to me that I could feel his breath on my face. I stepped back. He was a lot bigger than he had been when I knew him before, back when I was in junior high. He looked a lot stronger now too. He was staring at me so ferociously that I shifted my eyes down to the ground, just like I would have done if he were a dog. But he wasn’t a dog, I told myself. He was just a guy.Yes, he was taller than me.Yes, he looked like he could do some serious damage if he wanted to. And yes, I wanted nothing more than to get away from him. But if I fled, he would think I was afraid of him. There was no way I was going to give him that satisfaction. Besides, I hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, just the opposite.
I looked up and met his eyes.
“Why would I deny it?” I said. “I just did what any normal person would have done if they’d been in my place.”
He nodded as if I’d said pretty much what he had expected.
“You recognized me, didn’t you?” he said. His eyes were drilling into me. He seemed to be daring me to answer.
“So what if I did?”
The driver of the van looked in our direction. She was an older woman, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, with a pair of sunglasses shoved up on top of her head. She was passing out boxes of juice to the rest of the boys, who crowded around the van. When she finished, she looked over at us, reached into the van, and tooted the horn.
“Come on, Nick!” she called. “This train is about to leave the station.”
But Nick didn’t head for the van. Instead, he leaned forward, trying to intimidate me.
“You don’t scare me,” I said.
“Is that right?” He stepped closer. I fought the urge to retreat a pace. “Then how come you pretended you didn’t know
me?”
“Nick!” The woman tooted the horn again. Only then did Nick tear his eyes from me. He adjusted the backpack that hung from one of his shoulders, wheeled around and marched toward the van. I turned and slipped into the cool of the building in front of me.
. . .
The next afternoon, I looked up from my computer and saw Nick and the other guys outside with their dogs.
“If I were your age, I’d be sneaking a peek too,” a voice behind me said.
I spun around, my face flushed, feeling like I’d been caught staring out the window at school when I should have been paying attention to the teacher. Kathy stood in the doorway to my office, smiling.
“Some of those guys are really cute, aren’t they?” she said.
I glanced outside again. When Kathy was my age, she must have gone for the bad-boy type.
“I heard that they’ve all been in trouble with the law,” I said.
Kathy looked surprised. “Who told you that?”
“Mr. Schuster,” I said. “He told me that they have to be here because they’ve all been charged with violent crimes.”
Kathy looked around for a chair, but I was sitting on the only one in the room. She leaned against the wall instead.
“He really shouldn’t have said anything,” she said. “But since he did, it is true that all of the participants of the RAD program have been mandated by the court to take anger management counseling.”
“RAD?” I said.
“Rehabilitate A Dog,” she said. “But the kids who participate in RAD don’t have to be here. They all had a choice. They could have attended a traditional anger management program, one day a week for eight weeks. Or they could come here four days a week for eight weeks. RAD is a much bigger commitment, but these kids chose it because they thought it would be more interesting to work with dogs.”
“Mr. Schuster seems to think it’s crazy to trust them with the dogs,” I said. I thought about how Nick had tried to intimidate me the day before and decided that I didn’t entirely disagree with him.
Kathy shook her head. “They’re young. They can change. And the program works. We teach participants how to work with the dogs to modify their behavior. All the dogs in the program have been abandoned by their owners. They have . . . ” She paused and groped for words. “Let’s just say that they’re very challenging dogs,” she said.
Last Chance Page 4
