While Bryan kept reading, Julian waited and watched, wondering how long Bryan expected him to stand there. He considered taking himself on a tour of the rest of the shelter, but he worried that he’d get in trouble and wind up back in detention at school. He’d been told to follow Bryan’s lead, so he knew he’d better stay close.
Julian walked back to the first kennel by the door and, trying to kill time, made himself read every word on the pale green sign. The black dog with the white-dipped paw waited patiently while he learned that her name was Rocket and that she’d been a stray. When he finished reading, he rewarded himself by squatting down to say hello to Rocket through the kennel door.
Then he read the next sign. And the next, until he had made his way down the entire row. He learned a dozen dogs’ names and ages and how long they’d been at the shelter. He read the cards slowly, but none of the dogs made him feel rushed or like they were judging him. The Lab stopped shredding his blanket and leaned against the kennel door while Julian read about how he’d had too much energy for his previous family. Even the beagle on the bottom row quieted down, sniffing at Julian’s jeans through the crate until Julian finished reading and dropped to his knees to give her attention.
The personality sections of the dogs’ signs were the best part: “Energetic goofball.” “Shy at first, but a real snuggler once she gets to know you!” “Playful pup who needs an active—and we mean active!—home.” “Laid-back gentle giant.” Julian couldn’t help but wonder what adjectives would be on his own sign.
When he reached Bryan again, he noticed that Pip’s sign was white instead of green. He waited until Bryan paused between sentences. “Why is his a different color?” Julian asked.
Bryan ignored him until he finished reading the page. Julian crossed his arms and tried to wait patiently.
“That’s it for now, Pip,” Bryan said, standing slowly, brushing loose dog fur off his jeans, and tucking the book under his arm. Then he finally turned to Julian. “White means he needs extra attention. He’s really scared and doesn’t want to go on walks yet. So I read to him to get him used to having people around. Reading helps the other dogs calm down, too.”
Julian opened his mouth to say that sounded ridiculous, but he noticed for the first time that the dogs in the kennels next to Pip were lying quietly by their kennel doors. It seemed that Bryan was right.
“I’ll show you around,” Bryan said. “Then we can finish cleaning.”
Bryan had something to say about every single dog as he led Julian past their cages. He knew whether they preferred treats or tennis balls, whether they pulled on the leash or rolled over for belly rubs. As usual, he acted like he knew everything about everything. Julian trailed behind him, trying to picture what each dog would be like in his house. He thought the tall hound with floppy ears would sleep at the foot of his bed and probably snore. But the reddish-brown dog that looked like a fox would probably tear all the stuffing out of his pillow. He tried to guess if the shepherd mix, with one ear standing straight up and the other one flopped over, was already potty-trained or if she’d pee in Henry’s bedroom.
They had reached the end of the last row when Bryan pointed toward an empty kennel on the bottom.
“This is Star,” Bryan said without stopping.
The kennel had only looked empty. When Julian stopped in front of it and bent over to peer inside, he spotted a medium-size dog curled up into a tight ball in the back corner of her cage. She wore a faded pink collar, and her white fur blended in with the white blanket she slept on. Unlike the other dogs, her ears didn’t perk up or twitch as the boys talked in front of her crate. She had a white kennel sign, like Pip, but there was almost nothing written on it.
Julian got down on the floor to take a closer look, accidentally bumping his knee on the kennel door, making it rattle. The dog startled and looked out at him with wary blue eyes, as if noticing him for the first time. She hunched deeper into the corner, trembling so much it sent a small ripple through her soft-looking fur.
“Wait—” Julian called after Bryan. “What about this one? What does she like?”
Bryan turned back and sighed. “No one knows. She won’t let anyone near her. We can’t even take off her collar . . . she won’t let us.”
“Does reading to her help?” Julian was half joking—but also kind of curious.
Bryan shook his head. “She’s deaf.”
“Oh,” Julian said, surprised. He felt silly, but it had never occurred to him before that dogs could be deaf. He tried to imagine what life was like there for her in the noisy kennel. He didn’t know what would be scarier—the racket or the silence.
“She’s the most difficult case in the shelter right now,” Bryan said.
“Why?” Julian asked. “Because she can’t hear?”
“It’s not just that,” Bryan said. “She doesn’t trust anyone. Until she came here, she’d never even been outside. No one ever gave her any training. She’d never been on a leash or gone to the vet. She never even saw people other than her owner.”
Star pulled her legs in beneath her, curling up again without taking her eyes off the boys. Julian’s chest tightened. Star had to be the loneliest, most misunderstood dog in the world. “How did she end up here?”
“Her owner died,” Bryan said. “I guess Mrs. Winderhouser lived in this big house on Stagecoach Road, and no one even knew she had a dog.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned forward to get a closer look at Mrs. Winderhouser’s dog. He searched his memory for signs of Star at the house, trying to remember if there were any dog toys or bowls in the map he’d drawn of the old place.
Bryan gave Star a long, sad look. “Everyone says she’s untrainable.” He turned to walk away.
Julian nodded as if he agreed, but as he and the scruffy dog held each other’s gaze for a moment, a strange feeling began wriggling in his gut—a hunch that there was more to this dog than anyone knew. He thought of all the times he had felt misjudged by the world. Maybe, Julian thought, Star felt the same way.
As if in response, the dog licked her muzzle and sighed. She seemed to relax a little as she followed Bryan with her eyes, but her expression remained alert. Her nose twitched like a rabbit’s. Julian had the sense that she didn’t miss anything that happened around her, even if she couldn’t hear.
His mind whirred with questions. Where had Mrs. Winderhouser gotten Star? Had she been a puppy? What was it like for Star to live in that house that was full of rooms and things to explore? He imagined her clambering over boxes and squeezing under furniture, her white fur bright in the shadowy house.
As Julian started to stand up to follow Bryan, Star raised her head and watched him. Julian was sure he saw a glimmer in her bright blue eyes. He imagined that she didn’t want him to go. Maybe she hoped that each new person who stopped at her kennel would be the one who finally understood her. He squatted down again so he was at her eye level.
“Hi, girl,” he whispered. Star shifted and sniffed the air, her bright eyes meeting his. Julian bet that she was waiting for someone to see the real her, the same way he often wanted, for once, not to be overlooked. He suspected that Star was the greatest treasure Mrs. Winderhouser had ever found.
★ Chapter 4 ★
* * *
* * *
Ms. Khan returned to give Julian the full behind-the-scenes tour of the shelter. She showed him the kennels that held newly arrived dogs, where only staff and volunteers were allowed to go. She showed him the grooming room, the laundry room, the kitchen, the socialization room, the administrative offices, and every closet that held spare cages, food, kitty litter, potty-training pads, and other supplies.
Bryan came along, practically leading the tour himself. He knew every nook and cranny of the building, and now Julian did too, as if he had joined a special club.
“The more you volunteer with us, the more responsibilities you’ll be able to take on,” said Ms. Khan as she led them into an ind
ustrial kitchen. The metal counters were loaded to the brim with empty food bowls. “For now, you’ll start with tasks that require less training, and we’ll work your way up to working with the animals.”
Julian nodded vigorously to show that he was eager to take on more responsibility.
“Today I’d like to have you help me in here,” she said, waving to the stack of dirty bowls. Julian’s eyes widened at the towering pile. “If you can help me get this under control, I’ll teach you some of the basics of dog handling before you head home.”
Julian kept his smile fixed and tried not to show his disappointment. He had hoped that he’d get to work with the animals that day, or at least talk with them, like Bryan got to. He cast a sidelong glance at Bryan, who was already thumbing for the place where he left off in his book. Maybe the principal had told Ms. Khan about Julian’s reading challenges and she thought he was too stupid to read to the animals. His cheeks suddenly felt hot.
As if she could read his mind, Ms. Khan’s face softened. “Don’t worry, Julian. Everyone starts out doing the least glamorous jobs. You’ll get to work with the animals in no time.”
After Ms. Khan finished the tour, the boys got to work. Bryan left Julian in the kitchen to wash dishes while he went outside to hose down cages. Julian stared at the dozens of stainless-steel food and water bowls piled haphazardly in the sink and on the countertops. He groaned. He’d never seen so many dishes in his life. It wasn’t fair that Bryan got to be outside in the sunshine while he had to wash a million bowls. But Julian was the one who was supposed to be in detention, so he turned on the faucet and started scrubbing.
As he worked, it seemed like the bowls were multiplying on the counters around him, as if they’d been cursed by an evil wizard. He tried to pretend that every time he cleared part of the counter, he took some of the wizard’s power. He hoped the story would distract him, but his mind kept drifting back to Star, curled up in her kennel. It made him sad to think that no one had been able to get through to her.
There had to be a way.
Julian shut off the faucet and stuck his head into the hallway. Ms. Khan had come to check up on him about twenty bowls ago and she said he was doing a great job, so hopefully she wouldn’t mind if he took a little break. He made his way through the maze of hallways toward Star’s kennel. He’d mapped out the shelter in his head during the tour. All he had to do was follow it back to where X marked the spot for Star.
She was still huddled in the corner of her kennel. She looked like she was napping, but her eyes snapped open as Julian lowered himself to the ground in front of her cage. A soft, uncertain growl rumbled from her throat.
“It’s okay,” Julian said. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”
Her growl grew louder. He wished he knew how to tell her she was safe. He pressed his palm flat against the cage door. The dog flinched at his movement, but then her gaze flicked from Julian’s hand to his eyes. She’d probably had so many people walk by her cage without looking at her that she wasn’t sure what to make of this sudden attention. Julian stayed still, trying to communicate that he understood. Her growl rose into soft whimper.
Julian held his breath as Star pushed herself off her blanket and took a tentative step forward. Now that she wasn’t curled up in a ball, he could see that she wasn’t really all white. Patches of light gray fur melded with darker gray splotches on her back. The pattern almost looked like one of his old maps. Star inched closer to him, her head and long, fluffy tail low.
Julian’s whole body was humming with excitement, but he made himself sit perfectly still. Star took another step forward, as if she were moving in slow motion. He’d heard that dogs didn’t like to be stared at, so he kept his eyes on her paws as she crept closer. She had little tufts of white fur between her toes and light gray speckles on her back feet.
Star stopped just a few inches from the door of the crate. Julian still wasn’t looking right at her, but he could hear her sniffing the air, trying to pick up his scent. It was hard not to look into her bright, intelligent blue eyes. He breathed as slowly as he could, trying not to scare her back to the corner. Her paws inched forward again. When she reached the kennel door, she stretched her neck out and sniffed the palm of Julian’s hand.
“That’s a good girl,” he whispered. For a few seconds, he felt her cold nose and warm breath snuffling against his palm as she examined his hand. When she was done, she sat back and leaned against the side wall of the kennel, just far enough away that he couldn’t stick his fingers through the cage and touch her. But she was close enough that he could read the heart-shaped tag on her collar. On it were her name and the numbers 11-25-15.
Julian leaned closer to make sure he’d read the numbers right. November 25th was his birthday! What if that was Star’s birthday, too?
Maybe her life hadn’t been perfect cooped up inside the big, cluttered house with only Mrs. Winderhouser for company, but Mrs. Winderhouser had loved Star enough to get her a tag to celebrate her birthday.
Star yawned, her pink tongue unfurling from her mouth. She stretched out against the wall of her cage, her front paws inches from the kennel door where Julian sat. Julian felt something stir inside him. He didn’t have a lot of experience with dogs. Everything he knew about them was from silly videos online or his grandpa’s stories about pups he’d had when he was a boy. He didn’t know nearly as much as Ms. Khan, or even Bryan, who had said that Star was untrainable. But deep down, Julian knew he could help this dog.
Julian knew what it was like to be misunderstood. Everyone underestimated him just because his brain didn’t work the same way as theirs. His parents loved him, of course, and tried to help, but they didn’t know how. Teachers called him difficult. Other kids thought he was weird or stupid. If he was a dog, he’d probably be called untrainable.
Julian could tell from the way Star watched him that she was smart. She just needed someone who believed in her. He wished he could bring her home and give her the life she deserved.
* * *
At home after dinner, Julian sat at the kitchen table, his homework spread out in front of him. Henry was in the living room playing online video games and talking to his friends through his headset, his homework finished hours ago. Julian hated how easy school was for his brother. It wasn’t fair.
Julian’s mom was finishing up the dishes while his dad tried to help him with his history assignment. They were reading an article about the Civil War, but his dad—who’d just come off a double shift at his nursing job at the hospital—kept yawning. Julian could tell he was ready for bed. His dad was rushing through paragraphs to get to the end of the assignment, and the words were a blur for Julian. He just couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that his mind kept wandering back to the shelter and the way Star had looked at him.
Julian and his dad finally finished the assignment, and his dad let out a relieved sigh. Julian shoved his books back into his bag, trying to figure out how to talk to his parents about Star. His dad leaned back in his chair and stretched. Any second now, he’d head up to bed. His mom turned off the faucet and hung up the dishtowel. This was Julian’s chance.
“Could I get a dog?”
He held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t laugh at him. He’d stayed quiet at dinner because he hadn’t wanted to say anything in front of Henry. Last year, when Julian wanted to play a game to win a goldfish at the county fair, his brother had said, “Are you kidding? You couldn’t even take care of a pet rock!” Julian’s parents hadn’t said outright that they agreed with Henry, but the only games they let Julian play were the ones with stuffed animals as prizes.
His dad didn’t laugh. But he didn’t answer right away either. He stifled a yawn behind his hand. Julian’s mom leaned against the kitchen counter. “Our plates are so full, Jules. We just can’t add anything else.”
“What if I took care of her?” Julian asked. “She could be my dog.”
He wished he could explain how special Star was, an
d how much she needed him. But before he could find the words, his mom shook her head. “Dogs are a lot of work. You have to take them outside and train them and remember to feed them . . .”
“I know,” Julian said.
“A dog is a living thing that depends on you,” his mom said. “It needs you every day, even when things are tough. It’s a much bigger deal than missing a homework assignment.”
“I wouldn’t give up on a dog,” Julian insisted. “This is important.”
“Your schoolwork is important, too,” she said.
“It’s not the same.” Not only were Star and homework totally different, but to Julian, the shelter and school didn’t even belong on the same planet. He’d felt welcomed and safe at the shelter. At school he was on edge all day.
“You’ve had a hard enough time as it is,” she said. “We don’t want to put even more responsibility on you.”
Julian knew she was trying to be sympathetic, but somehow that only made it worse. He heard Henry crowing from the other room—“Nice one, dude!”—praising one of his friends in the game. Julian never got to do anything fun. He never got to do things he was actually good at. All he ever did was struggle with his schoolwork, and he never, ever seemed to catch up.
“I hear you did well at the shelter today,” his dad said, trying to make him feel better.
“I really liked it,” Julian said. “But it was lots of hard work,” he added quickly. He didn’t want his parents to think he’d had too much fun when he was supposed to be in detention.
He might not be able to adopt Star, but he had a backup plan—at least a way to get to spend time with her.
Star Page 3
