Wild & Chance

by Allen Zadoff

  “They ran away once the general was gone,” Chance says with a laugh. “The ones who could still run. The ones you fought against had to be carried away by their friends.”

  Chance and Junebug are relaxed and smiling, delighted by Maelstrom’s retreat. I look at the burning command center, the smoke wafting into the air, and I do not feel the same sense of relief. We may have won the battle, but I fear the war is far from over.

  I turn to Junebug, and I can see the orange flames reflected in her eyes.

  “I’m confused about something,” I say. “Were you lying to us the whole time?”

  “Not lying,” she says. “I really did steal my father’s car and drive to PetStar to get you guys.”

  “But why?” Chance asks.

  “I was monitoring his soldiers on my comms equipment. When I saw they were after you and Wild, I wanted to help you. At first just to get back at him. Later it was for other reasons.”

  “What kinds of reasons?” Chance asks curiously.

  “I got to know you both,” she says, her cheeks turning red. “Then I started to like you. It’s pretty cool to have friends.”

  The wind shifts, and smoke wafts toward us. Junebug blinks tears from her eyes. She squints and looks down at me.

  “I’m sorry I lied about who I was, Wild. And also how much I knew about you. Do you guys think you can forgive me?”

  She’s always been so confident, but now I see the vulnerability in her eyes.

  Chance looks at me, uncertain how to respond.

  I think of Junebug slamming her father in the back of the head and saving Chance in the process. Whatever happened earlier on the mountain, knocking out her father was proof enough of her loyalty.

  “I can forgive you,” I say.

  “What about you, Chance?” she asks, nervously twirling the blue stripe in her hair.

  “You were really trying to save us from Maelstrom?” he asks.

  “Why else would I risk my life all those times for you? I got scared when Wild killed that dog, and I called the soldiers. It was a dumb thing to do. I see that now.”

  Chance stares at her for a long minute.

  “I’ve done dumb things before,” he says. “I guess I forgive you.”

  Junebug smiles, relieved.

  There’s a loud crash as the roof of the command center collapses.

  “The Horvaths will be waking up soon. They’ll call the police when they see the smoke.”

  “We should get moving,” Junebug says. “Oh, and before we go”—she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a silver cell phone—“I fixed your phone, Chance.”

  Chance grabs the phone and presses the power button. A moment later the screen glows blue.

  “How did you—” The screen chimes, and Chance stares at the phone. “My mom texted! She said she’d see me later.”

  Junebug smiles. “Not bad, right?”

  Chance looks at her in awe as we walk together to the parking lot at the edge of the beach.

  “So you’re going to meet your mom now?” Junebug asks.

  Chance glances at me for confirmation, and I wag my tail.

  “We’re all going together,” Chance says.

  “I can’t come with you,” Junebug says.

  “What do you mean? I’ll tell my mom you need a place to stay. You can live with us.”

  “You know that won’t work.”

  “You can’t go home after what happened with your father,” I tell her.

  “I’m not going home. I’ll stay with my aunt. She’s the only one my father’s scared of. He wouldn’t dare do anything with her around.”

  “Are you sure?” Chance says, biting his lip anxiously.

  She comes closer, her hair blowing in the wind.

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s my family,” she says. “It might be messed up, but it’s the only one I have.”

  “I hear that,” Chase replies.

  Junebug suddenly kneels down in front of me. I think she’s going to hug me good-bye, but instead she pulls me close and whispers in my ear.

  “Your collar does more than you think it does. Keep exploring.”

  There’s a small explosion as a propane tank in one of the trailers ignites, and I hear sirens in the distance.

  “I gotta cruise,” she says. “I don’t want to be around when the cops get here, and neither do you.”

  She throws us a wave, then runs down the beach and disappears through the smoke.

  “What did she say to you?” Chance asks.

  “Nothing important,” I say, but I’m already thinking about my collar and wondering what Junebug meant.

  The police sirens are coming closer, and I tug at Chance’s pant leg, urging him away.

  Together we walk up the road to a bus stop where we can grab the Metro back to Santa Monica.

  WE’RE STANDING OUTSIDE A DRUG TREATMENT FACILITY IN CULVER CITY.

  Chance stands on the sidewalk next to me, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for his mother to appear.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say, but I feel the same anticipation.

  A minute later the facility door opens, and a woman steps out. She’s about thirty-five years old, pretty, wearing tight jeans and a loose white T-shirt, and carrying a backpack over one shoulder. She has messy brown hair, the same color as Chance’s. She looks around uncertainly, biting her lower lip.

  “Mom!” Chance shouts.

  Surprise turns to delight on the woman’s face as she sees Chance and me waiting for her.

  “Chancey!” she shouts, and she rushes forward, throwing her arms out wide.

  Chance races across the street and leaps into her arms, and I’m flooded with a sense of relief.

  Chance’s mom squeezes him tight, the two of them laughing and crying at the same time. He hops down and she holds his face in her hands, staring at him, running her fingers through his hair and across his face, like she’s memorizing every detail.

  “Mom, I want you to meet someone.”

  He grabs her hand and pulls her across the street toward me.

  “Someone? You mean the dog?”

  “Her name is Wild,” he says.

  “Wild? That’s a scary name, isn’t it? Whose dog is this?”

  “She’s her own dog, Mom. And she’s not scary. She’s my friend.”

  Chance’s mom nods, looking me over. After a moment she smiles.

  “Nice to meet you, Wild,” she says, and she reaches out and immediately pets my head like someone who’s never had a dog before. She should relax and hold her hand out for me to sniff, giving us a little time to get acquainted. She does it all wrong, but it doesn’t bother me. She’s Chance’s mother, and I want to meet her.

  She steps back and examines me, hands on her hips.

  “I wouldn’t call her cute exactly,” she says. “More like athletic. But there’s something unusual about her. She has intelligent eyes.”

  “She’s really smart,” Chance says, throwing me a wink. He puts his hand on my back, gently stroking my fur. I feel a wave of pleasure flow down my spine.

  Chance’s mom sighs, looking at me. “How on earth did you get a dog at the group home? I thought they were pretty strict.”

  “You gotta know how to work the system,” Chance says with a grin.

  “Speaking of the system, we have to get to court,” his mom says, “but I want to hear all about it later.”

  “We’re ready to go,” Chance says, and he pats my head again.

  “We? Yeah, um, about the dog—”

  “We have to take her,” he says. “I can’t go without her.”

  A cab pulls up in front of the center and beeps.

  “That’s our ride,” Chance’s mom says.

  “What about Wild?”

  His mom bites her lower lip, just like I’ve seen Chance do.

  “Okay, we’ll figure it out,” she says. “You, me, and Wild.”

  Chance pumps his fist in celebration.

 
“I need to talk to you alone,” I tell him.

  “I’ll catch up to you in a second, Mom.”

  She crosses the street, and Chance turns his back and kneels down, blocking his mother’s view so she won’t see us talking.

  “Isn’t Mom great?” he says.

  I nuzzle his hand with my nose. “I’m not coming with you,” I say.

  Chance looks startled. He stares at me, his mouth open.

  “What are you talking about? Mom said it was okay. We can be a family now.”

  “The general won’t give up. As long as I’m in the world, his secret is out.”

  “We’ll go where they can’t find us.”

  The cab honks, and Chance’s mother calls to him from the open window.

  “If I stay with you, you’ll never be safe,” I say.

  Chance starts weeping, his body heaving against mine as he holds me in his arms.

  I lick his face, taste the salt of his tears on my tongue.

  “Where will you go?” he asks.

  “I’ll find someplace.”

  “But you’ll be all alone!”

  “I want you and your mom to have a life together,” I say. “She needs you. You need each other.”

  “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

  “Maybe we can say something else.” I nuzzle his hand again, breathing in his scent.

  “Like what?”

  “How about, Just for now?” I look into his eyes. A dog and her boy. A boy and his dog.

  Chance wipes his eyes and smiles thinly. “Not good-bye. Just for now.”

  His mother calls to him. “Chance! We have to leave now or we’re going to be late.”

  He stands up, his eyes locked on mine.

  “The earbud,” I say softly.

  “But if I give it up, we can’t—”

  “I’ll hold on to it for you,” I say. “Until the next time.”

  “Promise?”

  He reluctantly takes the earbud from his ear. He presses the button on my collar, and I hear the mechanical swish of the collar box opening. He replaces the earbud and the box closes again.

  “You’re my friend forever,” I say.

  Chance points to his ear. “I only hear barking now.”

  I whimper and shuffle in place, trying not to cry out and upset him even more.

  Chance looks at me for a long moment, then he jogs across the street to join his mom.

  I watch him the whole way, waiting until he’s safely in the back of the cab.

  “I thought you were bringing the dog?” I hear his mother saying.

  “She can’t come,” Chance says.

  Those are the last words I hear as I turn and trot away down the street, my heart begging me to stay, but my head knowing that I’m doing what must be done.

  I RUN THROUGH A DOG PARK.

  The park is located in a large and beautiful recreation area filled with baseball diamonds and soccer fields. I race from one side of the fenced park to the other, watching as dog packs form and separate around me, the dogs leaping and barking as they play.

  I don’t engage with any pack, choosing instead to stay on the side, low-key, not revealing myself in any way.

  A big friendly retriever brings a length of rope in his teeth, trying to get me to grab it and play tug-of-war with him.

  I sniff at the rope, then I take it in my teeth. I taste the saliva of the many dogs who have fought over this toy earlier in the day. I shake my head back and forth, enjoying the sound of the rope whistling in the wind. After a few shakes I get bored and drop it on the ground.

  “Not really my thing,” I say.

  The retriever is confused. He grabs the rope and runs off to find a dog he can play with.

  A woman appears in front of me, looking to my collar for a name.

  “Who do you belong to?” she says in a singsong voice like she’s talking to a child.

  I ignore her, turn away, and break into a trot, speeding up as I move through the dog park, passing animals playing and play-fighting, some on leashes and some off, but all of them with owners waiting.

  I run toward the fence that encloses the dog park, gaining speed as I go. I leap high, easily clearing the top of the fence.

  “One got out!” a man shouts, trying to find my owner.

  He shouts for me to stop, but I don’t listen. I race across the park, through the baseball field and farther still, leaving the dogs behind as I sprint into the tree line.

  I continue until I no longer hear humans or dogs, until the only sound is the slap of my paws against the ground, the breath in my lungs, and my heart pounding in my chest as I run free.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book marks the beginning of many new relationships for me, and I’d like to say thanks:

  To Sarah Davies and the wonderful folks at Greenhouse Lit for inviting me to join the family.

  To Kieran Viola, who championed the book and gave it a home.

  To Mary Pender for her enthusiasm and vision.

  Finally, a very special thanks to my old friends Barry Lyga and Paul Griffin for reminding me to keep the faith… one word at a time.