by Destiny, A.
Then I looked in the mirror again. Simone’s proud, smiling face appeared over my shoulder.
“You look perfect!” she exclaimed. “So adorable. Logan’s going to love it.”
I just stared at myself. At least I thought it was me. Between the makeup and Simone’s pink shirt, I definitely didn’t look much like my normal self.
Was that a bad thing? I wasn’t sure. If Simone was right and this was supposed to be a date, maybe Logan would be expecting me to get all dressed up. Maybe he’d even be insulted if I didn’t. On the other hand, what if he really did just want a friend’s advice in choosing a dog? In that case, he was going to think I was insane if I showed up looking like this.
Besides, I wasn’t that kind of girl. The kind who got all sparkly and fancy to try to win over a boy. Logan might as well know that from the start. Grabbing a tissue out of the box on my dresser, I glanced at Simone.
“Sorry,” I said. “I appreciate the effort, but it’s a little too much for me.”
I wiped one eye, smearing glittery eye shadow across the tissue. “No!” Simone squawked, looking as stricken as if I’d just defaced the Mona Lisa. “But this is your first real date—I just want you to look as cute as you can.”
“I know, and thanks. The trouble is, I don’t look like me.” I quickly wiped off the rest of the makeup. Then I pulled the pink shirt off over my head. “If this really is a date—”
“It is,” she put in.
“Whatever.” I handed her the shirt. “If it is, and if Logan really does like me as more than a friend—”
“He so totally does!”
“—then he’d better like the real me.” I glanced at my naked face in the mirror. “Not some second-rate Simone clone.”
Simone frowned for a second. Then she sighed. “Okay, fine,” she said. “Natural girl it is. But you’ll at least put on a little blush and eyeliner, right?”
Since my parents weren’t home to drive me, I rode my bike to the animal shelter. The day was sunny but chilly, as if winter was digging its claws in, trying to hold on as long as possible. Logan was waiting outside the shelter when I got there. He smiled and waved as I pedaled over.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, walking next to me as I wheeled my bike over to the rack. “I’m really excited about this!”
“Me too. It’ll be fun.” I quickly locked my bike, then straightened up. “Should we go in?”
“After you.” He hurried over and opened the door, waiting for me to go through before him.
“Thanks.” I shook off the chill as I stepped into the warm building. The sounds of muffled barking greeted us, along with the battling smells of animals and disinfectant.
The lady working at the desk was a regular Eats customer. “Bailey!” she greeted me. “So nice to see you. What can I do for you?”
I explained about Logan’s quest. The woman nodded. “Yes, there was a note here about that when I came in this morning.” She scrambled around on the messy desk. “The director said we could hold whichever dog you choose until next week.”
She pointed us toward the dog section. Not that it would have been hard to find—most of the barking was coming from that direction.
“Let me know when you find one you like,” the woman said. “I’ll bring it to the meet-and-greet room so you can get to know it.”
The dog room was noisy and active. Wire runs lined both walls of the long, narrow room, with a concrete aisle in between. In each cage was a dog, or sometimes more than one. For a few minutes we just walked around, peering in at each dog. Most of them seemed happy to see us, wagging their tails and sometimes barking or jumping up against the mesh fronts of the pens.
I paused to watch a pair of shepherd puppies wrestle. “So did you decide what kind of dog you want?” I asked as Logan stepped past me to the next run.
“I’m still not sure.” He bent to let a medium-size hound type sniff his fingers through the wire. “I don’t want anything too small and yappy, but Mom asked me not to get anything too huge, either.”
“Okay. What else are you thinking?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. I just figured a mutt is a mutt, you know?”
I glanced from a feisty little terrier barking nonstop in the next cage to the dog across the aisle, which appeared to be some kind of Lab mix. “Right, but you can guess at least a little about a dog’s possible genotype from its phenotype.”
“Uh-oh,” he said. “You’re talking science again, aren’t you?”
“Oops.” I shot him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
He reached over and poked me on the shoulder. “Just kidding,” he said with a grin. “I love it when you talk science.”
“Good. Because that’s the only way I know how to talk, pretty much,” I replied.
I was blushing a little, but there was none of the tongue-tied awkwardness that usually popped up at such moments. Come to think of it, being with Logan felt almost . . . easy. Like I really was just hanging out with a friend. A really, really cute and amazing friend.
“So, Professor,” he said. “What’s this genotype stuff you were talking about?”
“Oh, right.” I stepped down the aisle to the next cage, where a tiny white dog peered up at me curiously. “I just meant that the way a dog looks can help you guess its breeding. So if you like, say, golden retrievers, you could see if any of the dogs have silky yellow fur or any other features that look like a golden. Because that might be a hint that they have some golden in them, which means a greater chance of them possibly having a similar type of personality.”
“Gotcha.” He stopped to look at the resident of the next run, a lean dog that appeared to be at least part greyhound. “I guess my mom’s right and science really does make a difference in real life, huh?”
I grinned. “Definitely.”
Just then a medium-size brown-and-white dog jumped up and barked at us from farther down the aisle, its fringed tail wagging furiously. “That one’s cute,” Logan said, hurrying over and offering his fingers for a sniff. “It looks sort of like a collie or something.”
“He seems pretty friendly, too.” I crouched down for a better look, and the dog examined me with a gaze so bright and curious that I couldn’t help smiling.
“Yeah.” Logan straightened up. “Think I should take this one to the meet-and-greet?”
“Definitely,” I said, already heading for the door to summon the worker.
The meet-and-greet area was a small but cheerful room, with whitewashed cinder-block walls covered with colorful animal murals. There was a long wooden bench along one wall and several beanbag chairs scattered on the floor, along with numerous dog and cat toys.
“Cool place.” Logan wandered around checking out the murals while we waited for the worker to bring the dog in.
“Yeah.” I stared at a gaudy painting of a parrot. It reminded me of the makeup Simone had tried to make me wear.
The door opened and the worker came in with the brown-and-white dog on a leash. “Here you go,” she said, handing the leash to Logan. “Let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll leave you alone to get acquainted.”
“Thanks.” Logan bent down and held out his hand to the dog.
The dog sniffed his hand briefly, then dashed off to examine one of the toys on the floor, almost yanking the leash out of Logan’s hand.
“I guess it’s all right to let him loose, huh?” Logan said, reaching down to unsnap the leash from the dog’s collar.
“I think so,” I said.
I sat down in one of the beanbag chairs. Logan followed the dog around for a few seconds, then came over and flopped onto the chair beside mine.
“He seems kind of distracted,” he said. “Maybe I should hang out and let him come to me when he’s ready.”
That didn’t take long. The dog was eager to sniff everything he could reach, but soon he rushed back over to us, tail wagging nonstop. Logan grabbed a tennis ball and bounced it against the wall,
and the dog raced after it and brought it back to him, looking proud of himself.
“Check it out,” Logan said with a laugh. “I already taught him to fetch!”
“Either that or he already taught you to toss the ball for him,” I teased.
“Works for me either way.” Logan grinned and threw the ball again.
After that, Logan tried a few other toys. The dog was still a little distractible, occasionally rushing off to sniff the bench or the wall or whatever. But every time Logan snapped his fingers or whistled, the dog looked up alertly and then ran over to him.
“I think he likes me,” Logan said with a laugh as the dog tried to crawl onto his lap.
“I think you’re right.” I reached over and scratched the dog behind the ears. “He’s cute. Think he’s the one?”
“I think so.” His eyes met mine briefly, and he smiled. I held my breath, suddenly realizing how close we were to each other.
Then the dog leaped off Logan’s lap, grabbed a rawhide bone, and started growling and shaking it furiously. That interrupted the moment, but I didn’t mind. “This is fun,” I said. “I’m glad I came.”
“Me too. Otherwise I might never have found out what phenotype and genotype mean.” From the sly little tilt of his mouth, I could tell he was joking around.
“Sure you would have,” I retorted quickly. “I think we cover that in chapter seven or eight.”
He laughed and reached down to pat the dog as it zipped past with the bone. I leaned back on my beanbag chair, feeling happy and comfortable. Okay, so maybe I still didn’t know whether this was supposed to be a date or not. Either way, I really was glad I’d come. Being with Logan felt really . . . right somehow. Different. Special. Basically, sort of amazing.
As I was trying to figure out how I was going to describe it to Simone, the door swung open. I glanced over, expecting it to be the shelter worker coming to check on us.
But it wasn’t her. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the morning sun coming in through the window behind the main desk, was a girl in a flirty green minidress, red hair flowing loose over her bare shoulders.
My jaw dropped. “Megan?” I blurted out.
“Hi, Bailey.” Megan sashayed into the room, which suddenly felt a lot smaller with her in there. “Hey, Logan. What are you two doing here?”
I was wondering the same thing about her. Logan looked surprised too. He grabbed the dog as it darted toward the door, which Megan had left standing open behind her.
“I, uh, came to pick out a dog,” he told Megan. “Bailey’s helping me.”
“Really? That’s so weird—I’m thinking about adopting a dog too!” Megan clapped her hands, startling the dog into letting out a yip. “Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. Crazy,” I said, getting up to shut the door. This couldn’t be a coincidence. Especially since I happened to know that Megan’s younger brother was allergic to dogs.
“So who’s this cute little guy?” Megan bent toward the dog, ruffling its ears. “Is this the one you’re going to adopt, Logan?”
“I think so,” Logan said, setting down the wiggling dog.
“What are you going to name him?” Megan smiled. “He looks like a Scamp. Or wait—maybe Joey?” She sat down in the spot beside Logan, the one I’d just vacated, pulling the dog toward her. “Here, Joey! Good boy!”
I perched on the end of the bench, feeling uncomfortable. How in the world had Megan figured out that Logan was at the animal shelter? Had he told her about it too—maybe even asked her along? He hadn’t said anything about it to me. Then again, he wasn’t exactly telling Megan to get out because we were on a date. . . .
Before I could figure it out, the door flew open again. “Logan! There you are!”
Ling? Seriously? Okay, now this situation was approaching an epic level of ridiculousness.
“Hi, everyone,” Ling sang out as she hurried in. “What a coincidence! Looks like everyone’s looking for a new dog today.”
Megan glared at her. “Yeah, what a coincidence.”
I glanced at Logan. He seemed confused as he looked from Megan to Ling and back again, not even noticing that the dog was gnawing on his shoelace.
Still, I couldn’t help wondering if he’d known this might happen. How else would Megan and Ling both know they’d find him at the animal shelter, of all places? Maybe today wasn’t as special as I’d started to think.
Ling sidled over to Logan, putting a hand on his arm. “So how long have you been here?” she asked.
“Umm . . .” Logan didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He shot me a look. “A little while, I guess.”
Suddenly I couldn’t stand to be there for one more second. I jumped to my feet.
“I’d better get going,” I said. “I need to go home and change before kickball.”
“Really? Too bad.” Ling didn’t sound particularly disappointed. “See you, Bailey.”
“Are you sure you have to go?” Logan asked.
“Yeah, sorry. But hey—mission accomplished, right?” I bent to give the dog a good-bye pat. His pink tongue darted out, slurping my hand.
I smiled. But the smile faded as I glanced at the other two girls, who were glaring at each other suspiciously. Yeah, it was time to get out of here. Past time, really.
As I hurried out the door, I comforted myself with one thought. At least I hadn’t let Simone dress me up too much and curl my hair. Then I would have felt really stupid right now.
Chapter Fifteen
I wasn’t really in the mood for kickball practice that afternoon, but I went anyway. I was still feeling kind of down after what had happened that morning, though I tried to tell myself that that was crazy—that I shouldn’t have let myself get carried away in the first place.
But I couldn’t help it. For a few minutes there, I’d really thought that Simone might be right. That maybe high school romance wasn’t completely pointless. That Logan and I could be more than friends after all.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. What was I thinking, imagining I could compete with Megan and Ling? Why would I even want to try? That just wasn’t me. I had a plan for my life, and this wasn’t part of it.
The Lo-Ed team’s practices always took place on the baseball diamond behind the high school. When I arrived, a bunch of people were already milling around out there, shouting and laughing loudly. The mood always got rowdier when there was a game coming up—especially the big game.
I was only halfway from the bike rack to the field when Simone came rushing toward me. She looked stricken. At first I assumed she was still upset about the whole animal-shelter fiasco. I’d told her all about it, of course. Mostly because she hadn’t given me much choice. She’d been spying on my house from her window and had come rushing over as soon as I got home.
“Bailey, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I just realized what happened this morning is all my fault!”
“No it isn’t,” I said. “No amount of makeup would have saved that sorry situation, trust me.”
“Huh? No, not that.” She waved a hand, shooing away my comment like a pesky fly. “The thing is, I realized there was only one other person who knew about your date. You know, besides you and me and Logan himself.”
“And whoever Logan told,” I added. “Which apparently included Ling and Megan.”
“Not necessarily. See, I remembered that I told Matt while we were out last night. So I asked him just now if he told anybody else, and he said he mentioned it to Darius this morning while they were playing basketball. And Darius said he might have let something slip to Megan after that.”
“Might have?” I glanced over at Darius and Matt, who were kicking a ball around with some other guys out near second base.
“Yeah,” Simone said. “Don’t you get it? Logan didn’t tell Megan about your date—Darius did. That’s why she crashed.”
“Why would Darius tell Megan something like that?”
“Who knows? Who cares? The important thing is, Logan
didn’t do it. He didn’t want Megan and Ling there any more than you did.”
“We don’t know that.” I was trying to take this in, work out the logic. “And speaking of Ling, how’d she find out about it? Darius didn’t tell her, too, did he?”
“He said he didn’t.” Simone shrugged. “But who knows? Maybe Megan told her—the girl can’t keep a secret to save her life. Or maybe Ling has some sort of superspy satellite system tracking Megan’s every move, or Logan’s. I wouldn’t put it past her.”
I actually cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, me neither.”
She gripped my arm so tightly I was afraid it would leave a mark. “I feel so horrible about this, Bails!” she exclaimed. “I wanted you to have the most perfect date ever, and instead I totally ruined it. But don’t worry, I already figured out how to make it up to you.”
“You did?” I was instantly suspicious. “How?”
She grinned. “I invited Logan to kickball practice.”
“What?” I blurted out.
“Yeah. He seemed really into it too. Come on, let’s go say hi.”
She dragged me off toward the field. For a second I was too stunned to resist. “I can’t believe you did this!” I hissed. “I don’t need some stupid pity date. I’m going home.”
“Too late—there he is. He already saw you.” She dropped my arm and waved. “Hi, Logan! Over here!”
Logan separated from the mass of players over near the pitcher’s mound. He waved, then loped toward us. He was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of baggy shorts. Even though I was seething with rage at Simone, I couldn’t help noticing that Logan had nice legs—not too muscley, not too skinny.
“Hi, Bailey,” he said when he reached us. “Listen, so I ended up reserving that dog. I think I’m going to call him Patch.”
My first instinct was to ask if that name had been Ling’s idea or Megan’s. Instead I forced a smile.
“Sounds good,” I said. “He seemed like a really nice dog.”
“Yeah.” Logan jammed his hands in his shorts pockets and stood there, rocking back and forth. There was a moment of awkward silence.
