Sit, Stay, Love

by J. J. Howard

  My heart lifted again at the sight of Potato, who sprang off his dog bed and into my arms as soon as he saw me. The other dogs were sprawled on their beds, sleeping peacefully.

  “Can—um, can Potato sleep with me tonight?” I ventured, hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck.

  “Sure,” Eric and Lily said at the same time. Whew.

  We climbed the stairs, me holding tight to Potato.

  “Well, good night,” Eric said to me, suddenly formal. “Training starts tomorrow morning.”

  Right. I nodded, my stomach falling. I’d forgotten about the training.

  Eric went into his room, and I carried Potato into Lily’s. Lily and I changed into our pajamas and then we watched a movie on her big TV before crawling into our respective beds. We lay there, talking about the movie we’d seen, and books we liked, and school.

  The very best part was the little furry guy who curled up next to me and instantly fell asleep. It would be so hard to leave him tomorrow. I stroked Potato’s head, and as I finally drifted off, I realized I’d never been so happy/sad before in my entire life.

  * * *

  Bright and early the next morning, both Potato and I gave Eric a look of disbelief as he showed us what he wanted the dog to do.

  We were in the Chungs’ backyard, where they had a little practice space. The weather had turned colder again. I shivered in my navy-blue coat.

  Eric was running slowly around the edge of the little circle that was lightly painted on the grass. “See—this is what we want Potato to learn first,” he said. “His gait needs to be even. He can’t get distracted by anything—can’t look around or break his stride. We have to practice a bunch so he’ll be ready.”

  “Ready?” I asked, frowning. “Do you have him, like … enrolled in a show? Already? He’s still recuperating.”

  “I know that,” Eric said, sounding a little hurt. “We’re starting slow. If he’s ready, he can participate in the Winsted Winner’s Circle. That’s not the one with the cash prize attached, but the show is a lot smaller and better for beginners. It’ll be good practice for him. No pressure.”

  “Yeah, a name like Winsted Winner’s Circle sounds super chill,” I told him, rolling my eyes.

  The small smile that seemed to be escaping from him surprised me. “Don’t worry, Cecilia. We’re starting small.”

  “Bye, guys!” Lily yelled from the front of the house, waving. She was leaving with her mom to go to her Saturday piano lesson.

  I waved to Lily, then turned back to Eric and Potato.

  “But what happens if he doesn’t do it right? At the show, I mean.” I picked Potato back up and pulled him tighter against me. Even though my ultimate plan was to get him out of show business, I still somehow hated the idea of him failing.

  Eric shook his head. “He’ll be fine, Cecilia. I promise. Again, this show is really low key. If he’s ready in time, great—he’ll get some practice. If not, that’s okay, too. Besides, we still have a lot of work to do before we can go.”

  I’d definitely noticed him repeating we. “Before we go,” I repeated. “Do you mean you’d want me to come to the actual show?”

  Eric nodded. “I think Potato will do better if you’re nearby. But if you don’t want—”

  I cut him off. “No … I’ll go. I was just … never mind. Let’s get started.” I don’t know why I was acting so strangely. I put Potato down on the ground and started walking around the circle. He followed me, as usual, but not in any kind of straight line. One of the Chungs’ neighbors started running a leaf blower, and Potato jumped and stopped in his tracks every time the blower stopped and then started back up again.

  “We have to teach him to ignore ambient noise,” Eric said.

  “Too bad we can’t get him some puppy headphones,” I joked.

  Eric laughed. “That would be cool.”

  Again I was surprised by his response. Eric had a sense of humor?

  “But since we can’t actually do that—what can we do?” I asked. “What do you do with your other dogs?”

  He pulled a bag of treats out of his pocket. “Positive reinforcement.”

  “Ooh, perfect. Now you have his attention.” Potato had come running straight for us.

  “The trick is to train him without turning him into a hefty puppy,” Eric explained while Potato wagged his tail and jumped up, as if trying to reach the treats. “Good muscle tone is one of the most important elements of the judging.”

  “Well, this is just a regular Kobayashi Maru,” I said.

  Eric’s head snapped up in surprise. “A what?”

  “It’s from that Star Trek movie … Into Darkness? It means a no-win situation.”

  “Yeah, I know what it means. I love that movie. I’m just surprised that you know it, too.”

  I gave him a look, offended by the assumption, then decided to dial back on the hostility. “I guess you’re the one who named the chow chows?” I asked.

  Eric nodded, grinning. “Scotty and Sulu! Most people don’t get that.”

  “I didn’t know you were a science fiction fan,” I told him.

  “I like Star Trek a lot. My uncle Miles always watched it with me when I was really young. He lives in Korea now, though, so I never see him.”

  “That stinks. I’m sorry.” I hesitated, then added, “I don’t really see my mom anymore. Although she doesn’t live in Korea or anything. Just Buffalo, New York.”

  Eric was silent, and I wondered if I’d overshared about Mom. Potato was looking up at me with those big brown eyes, so I picked him up and got some slobbery kisses in return.

  Eric cleared his throat. “Buffalo’s not that far away,” he said carefully. “She doesn’t visit?”

  “Nope. Not too often. Not this past year, anyway.”

  “That must be hard. Do you miss her?”

  I kissed Potato on the top of his head. “Sometimes.”

  “That’s too bad for your mom. She’s really missing out on getting to know a pretty cool person.”

  I glanced over at Eric, startled by his words. My face felt warm. “Thanks.” Did he really mean that?

  “We should get back to work.” Eric broke the silence. “We still have a ways to go with this little guy.”

  “Why Potato?” I burst out. Eric looked confused, so I added, “I mean, why is it so important to you to prove something with Potato?”

  Eric seemed to be thinking about how to answer. “I grew up around dog shows. And it does kind of bother me—how it’s all about breeding and pedigree. So I guess I figure if I’m going to do it, I might as well do it my way. And when I saw those dogs at the adoption fair a few weeks ago, it made me think about all the puppies out there that may never find a real home.”

  I nodded in agreement. Are Eric and I actually on the same page about something? Other than Star Trek, that is?

  “I’d really like to prove to both my parents that a rescue dog can do well—maybe even win,” Eric continued. “Potato might not have looked like much when he first came into Orphan Paws. But he’s growing really strong, and he’s the perfect example for his breed. If we can train him …”

  “There’s that word we again,” I said. I was half joking, but Eric looked uncomfortable. He got all serious then, and we went back to training.

  A busy hour passed. Eric started giving Potato a tiny bite of cookie whenever he managed to get partway around the circle without getting distracted. Finally, I stepped in, and Potato followed me around the full circle.

  “He’ll do pretty much anything for you,” Eric said, sounding impressed.

  “We bonded,” I said, bending down to pet Potato’s head. “Having a lot of treats helps, too. These chicken ones are his favorite.”

  “Good to know,” Eric said. “Well, I guess we can take a break. You want some hot chocolate? My mom has this really good stuff she orders from, like, Europe.”

  “Do you have marshmallows?”

  Eric laughed. “It sounds like marshmallows are
a deal-breaker. Luckily, yeah, I think we have some.”

  “Well, then, I guess that would be okay,” I teased him, scooping up Potato. “Don’t worry—I’ll sneak you one,” I whispered to the pup. Marshmallows were definitely not on his show-dog diet.

  “I heard that,” Eric said without turning around.

  As I followed Eric inside, I thought about the fact that sneaking Potato a marshmallow or two was hardly going to sabotage his show business career.

  But did I want to sabotage it? What did I want? I wondered as I walked into the Chungs’ house, my cheek against Potato’s soft fur. The answer to that question was becoming less and less clear.

  Sour Cream and Chive Potato Chips

  Chicken Cookie Monster

  Hufflepuff Bertie Bott’s Sorting Hat (Lily’s idea)

  Captain James T. Kirk (Eric’s)

  Potato (mine)

  Dad let me stay over at Lily’s one more night, so I left the Chung house early on Sunday morning. Parting with Potato was hard, and he didn’t seem to want to leave my arms either as I walked toward the door with Mrs. Chung, who was driving me to Aunt Pam’s. But at the same time, I had the hopeful feeling in my chest that I would be back. Eric said we still had a lot of ground to cover before the show.

  When I walked in the front door, Aunt Pam was making pancakes.

  “Good morning, Cecilia,” she said primly. “Did you enjoy your sleepover?”

  “I did,” I said, which was mostly true—it had been a lot of fun sharing a room with Lily and, of course, getting snuggle time with Potato. But Eric still made me feel on edge. “Those smell good,” I added, walking over to watch the batter sizzle in the pan.

  “I thought I’d make them for your father today,” she said.

  I nodded as I set my backpack down. “He loves pancakes.”

  “It’s also his birthday,” Aunt Pam pointed out.

  I could feel my face turning pink and my stomach dropped. How had I forgotten Dad’s birthday?

  “You forgot!” Aunt Pam hiss-whispered. “Honestly, Cecilia!”

  I looked down sheepishly. “I did. I’m sorry. There’s just been so much going on …”

  Aunt Pam’s face softened a little. “I know. You have had a lot of upheaval lately. I’ll take you over to the mall this afternoon and you can get him a card and something to unwrap.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Aunt P.”

  She frowned a little, but nodded once. “Now why don’t you come help me with the rest of breakfast?”

  I washed my hands, still feeling guilty. She put me in charge of frying the sausages. I watched the patties carefully, trying to make up for forgetting about Dad’s birthday. But they still got a little too brown on one side. I guess I had the burner on too high. Cooking was just not my strong suit.

  “Is that sausage I smell?” Dad asked as he came downstairs. He was still wearing his PJs. Had he just woken up? I was starting to worry about him. He was taking the whole couch-and-sleep-monster thing to a new level lately. Not to mention the times I’d walked in on him stressing out over stacks of paper in the middle of the night.

  “Happy birthday, Dad!” I cried, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. “Sorry,” I added, holding one sausage patty on my spatula at a time before transferring it to the little serving plate Aunt Pam had set out. “They’re a little overcooked. But I tried.”

  “Makes no never mind to me, kiddo,” Dad said with a small smile. “Sausage is sausage. Thank you for helping your aunt.” He took his usual place at the little round kitchen table.

  I sat down beside him, trying to ignore the smell of burned sausage. Aunt Pam wrinkled her nose. “Where do you want to go for dinner tonight?” I asked Dad.

  “Oh,” Aunt Pam said. “I thought I’d make your father’s favorite meal—meat loaf and twice-baked potatoes.”

  “I—I didn’t know,” I said, pouring maple syrup on my pancakes. “Dad and me just always … but, sorry—I didn’t realize.”

  Dad jumped in. “What Cecilia means is that she and I always go out—the one with the birthday gets to pick the restaurant. Maybe we could go out tonight, and still have meat loaf tomorrow?” The look on his face reminded me—too late—about the Chili’s incident, but I knew he wouldn’t mention it now, especially in front of Aunt Pam.

  Aunt Pam’s face relaxed at the compromise. She liked it when things went according to plan—as long as it was her plan, that is. “That would be fine. Where would you like to go?”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” Dad said, taking a huge bite of pancake. “After all, a birthday meal comes but once a year.” Then he glanced at me. “How was the sleepover, C?”

  I told him about the Chungs’ house, and all their show dogs, and Potato.

  “I’m glad you’ve made a new friend,” Dad said. “Lily sounds very sweet.”

  “It doesn’t hurt that her family is obviously very well-to-do,” Aunt Pam put in.

  “Seriously?” I snapped at her. “You think I should be friends with someone just because they’re rich?”

  “Honestly, Cecilia!” Aunt Pam exclaimed, her eyebrows going up at my tone.

  “Cecilia, don’t be rude to your aunt,” Dad chimed in.

  I felt my spirits sink. I felt bad enough for forgetting Dad’s birthday, and now both he and Aunt Pam were ganging up on me.

  “May I be excused?” I asked after I’d wolfed down my pancakes. Dad was helping himself to more sausage; I was glad he liked it despite the bad cooking.

  “You may, kiddo,” he said. “See you for dinner later.”

  Aunt Pam gave me a look. “I’ll be ready to take you for those school supplies in an hour,” she said pointedly, very obviously referring to our trip to get Dad’s birthday gift. Aunt Pam would make a terrible spy.

  “Sure thing.” I put my dish in the sink, and then I grabbed my backpack and headed upstairs to my room.

  I knew the room had once been my cousin Mandy’s—it still had all the furniture that had been hers, and a lot of her old clothes were still in the closet (unfortunately, it was a closet too small to really hang out in). Mandy was all grown up now and working at a fashion magazine in New York City. There was also a Mandy shrine on the bookshelf in front of the window, containing all of her dance trophies and lots of pictures of her in high school. If only being coordinated and popular ran in the family.

  I paced the floor, feeling restless in the small room that wasn’t really mine. In fact, the whole house felt small after spending the weekend at the Chungs’. But I knew it was pointless to compare.

  I sat down at the little desk, flipped open my laptop, and clicked to open Skype. I entered in Mel’s Skype name and waited to see if she would pick up. When she didn’t, I walked over to the bed and sat down, zipping open the backpack I’d taken to Lily’s. I thought about how sad I’d felt the first time I’d tried to Skype Mel, after she’d moved, when she didn’t answer. I’d felt so alone. But now, even though I still missed her and wanted to talk to her, at least I didn’t feel so bad.

  I heard the Skype call sound and almost tripped over my sneakers on my way back to the desk. Mel was calling me back!

  “Hey, stranger!” I said as her image appeared on the screen.

  “Hey yourself!” Mel smiled. The Internet at Aunt Pam’s house was spotty, and it didn’t help that the computer was old. It seemed to be a particularly bad connection today, because Mel kept freezing or dissolving into little pixels. But it was still good to see her. She was wearing a bright purple T-shirt with a sparkly black megaphone on it that said CHEER. A matching purple headband kept her curly hair pulled back from her face.

  “You holding up okay?” Mel asked. “Last time we talked you were really stressed out about your dad.”

  “Yeah, it’s gotten worse, actually …” I went on to tell her about our awkward night at Chili’s and how Dad seemed down in the dumps in general, worrying about money. “And now I’ve struck a deal with Eric Chung so I could maybe earn some cash to help
Dad out a little …”

  Mel raised an eyebrow, and then her image froze that way for a while. I wished I knew how to take a screenshot on this computer, because it was a really funny face. “Wait. You mean the Eric Chung—basketball star, student council vice president?” Mel’s voice asked, though her image stayed frozen.

  “Yes—the Eric Chung. And he’s the president of our class this year.”

  “I’m not surprised. Is he still a show-off? And why are you helping him?”

  I didn’t really know how to answer that. There were too many things to explain. “I’ve gotten to know his sister—you remember, Lily?” Mel’s image unfroze and nodded. “She’s really nice. Eric is totally arrogant, though. I mean, at least he seems that way at first …”

  “Aha. So he’s improving on closer acquaintance. Very interesting.” Mel winked.

  “It’s not interesting. I’m just helping him to train Potato.”

  Mel’s face got bigger in my screen as she leaned forward. “You’re what? Training a potato? This connection stinks.”

  I laughed. “Remember? The dog’s name is Potato,” I said. “Eric wants to enter him in a dog show. Potato listens to me, so I’m helping Eric train him.”

  Mel looked confused. “I thought you hated dog shows.”

  “I still do. Why breed dogs when there are so many that need homes out there?”

  “Pretty sure I’ve heard this speech.” Mel rolled her eyes and grinned. “So what’s changed?”

  I opened my mouth to say nothing, but I realized that wasn’t true. Potato was what had changed. I didn’t know yet if he’d take to dog-show life, but what if he did? And if Eric kept asking me to help train him, I could still see him.

  “I haven’t actually been to any of the shows yet,” I finally told Mel. “I guess I’m going to decide for sure how I feel when we go to the first one next weekend.”

  “Cecilia Murray—reserving judgment? Very uncharacteristic.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes at Mel. “You and your giant words. Have you been reading the thesaurus for fun again?”