by Heidi Lang
“Neither’s life. Besides, everyone leaves you eventually. What’s it matter?” He closed his eyes again, one hand idly stroking Hazel’s fluffy head. Eventually Hazel closed her eyes, too. It was like Jessie didn’t exist, like it was her ghost standing there in that living room. So she grabbed her shoes and left. She was too much of a professional to slam the front door behind her, but she shut it very firmly. And then opened it and shut it again, just to be sure.
Know when to leave it. What a stupid rule. Jessie didn’t believe in leaving anything, and she wasn’t about to start now.
CHAPTER 12
“Hey, you wanna go ride bikes?” Ann asked. It was Sunday afternoon; Jessie had spent the whole weekend sulking. Not that she considered it sulking. She didn’t sulk. She was merely plotting. And avoiding Wes. And avoiding the park. And having absolutely no fun at all.
In fact, she was so bored she almost wouldn’t mind hanging out with her cousin. And a bike ride sounded like a nice break. On the other hand, this was Ann-Marie. What if Jessie said yes, and then Ann made fun of her? She could almost hear her now: Who even rides bikes anymore?
“It’s not exactly a hard question,” Ann said.
Jessie narrowed her eyes. “What’s the matter, now that Loralee’s tired of you, you’re bored and alone?”
Ann flushed. “You know, you could have just said no.”
Jessie felt a strange twinge deep in her stomach as her cousin stalked away. Guilt? No, she didn’t think so. She was probably just hungry.
But as she sat there, she kept seeing the way Ann’s face had crumpled, and her stomach tightened and tightened until it was like a fist clenching. “Whatever,” Jessie muttered. Ann deserved those words. Jessie knew she did. So she didn’t apologize, and Ann didn’t speak to her for the rest of the day.
The next morning Jessie was up and dressed before her alarm again. She had never been so relieved to get to a Monday.
Wes was sitting on his porch in his customary spot, sipping his customary tea. “You’re early.” He scowled.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No. It means I can’t even enjoy my morning cup of tea in peace.”
Jessie’s steps slowed under the force of his irritation. She could feel it like it was a wave bearing down on her, and she suddenly remembered the way he’d told her not to bother him that weekend. Maybe her aunt and uncle were right, and she should just leave him alone.
Wes sighed and put his mug down on its coaster. “Might as well get this over with.” He stood and disappeared inside his house.
Jessie danced from foot to foot, uncertain. Should she follow him inside? Go to the car? Just call today another bad day and crawl home?
Before she could make up her mind, Wes was back, a purple hip pack looped over his arm. Aside from the color and obvious newness, it looked just like his other one, with a wide elastic strap, a large zippered pouch in back, and a sturdy-looking clip in front. “Here.” He thrust it at her.
“What?” Her heart raced faster than Angel out of the gate. “Is this . . . is that . . . am I . . . ?”
“If I’d known this would render you speechless, I’d have given you one a long time ago.” He shook it. “Go on, take it. It’s yours.”
With trembling fingers, Jessie accepted the hip pack. “Does this mean,” she whispered, “that I can actually walk some dogs now?”
“It does.” Wes hesitated, then added, “We’ll start you out with individual dogs, some of the easier ones, and see how you do. Then maybe a small pack or two.”
Jessie hugged the hip pack to her chest, her eyes burning. “Thank you,” she sniffed.
Wes shifted awkwardly. “Right. Well. Lots to do today.” He brushed past her and unlocked his car. “Hurry it up, kiddo. I’m not paying you to stand around.”
“You’re not paying me at all, actually.”
“And for good reason. Now get in the car.”
Jessie smiled. She felt like a cloud, all light and fluffy and full of purpose. Before getting in the car, she adjusted the hip pack to fit her and then clipped it around her waist. She was official now. She was On The Job. Her poop-scooping days were a thing of the past.
“Hey, when you’re done there, I have another pile for you,” Wes called.
“But it came from one of your dogs. Why should I have to clean it up?”
“Because I don’t want to.” Wes chuckled. “Ah, the joys of bringing on some help.”
Jessie fumed silently but cleaned up the dog poop. “Come on, Pickles,” she told the black Aussie mix that was clipped to her hip pack. Wes clipped all leashes to his belt using a carabiner and had Jessie do the same thing. She was also supposed to keep a hand on the leash at all times. It felt a little awkward at first, but she was starting to get the hang of it. And as Pickles trotted along obediently next to her, she felt like a real dog walker, like she knew what she was doing.
“Hey! Who’s walking who?” a random jogger called to her.
Jessie scowled. Did she not look in control here?
“Irritating, isn’t it?” Wes muttered as the man jogged on. “You’ll hear a constant rotation of about six different comments. That’s one of the popular ones. Pay attention to the others. There will be a quiz later in the week.”
“Really?”
Wes shrugged. “If I remember. Also here’s another dog for you.” He unclipped Bear. She took the leash and added it to her carabiner. Now she had a leash in each hand, and she could feel the dogs pulling her forward. She imagined herself as an old-fashioned carriage, powered by dogs instead of horses.
“Drop your weight. Keep that pack slung a little lower on your hips. And remember, watch out for squirrels,” Wes instructed as she walked next to him. “Because if you don’t see them first, you won’t be prepared when your dogs see them. And see them they will.” He smiled. “Especially Pickles.”
Jessie nodded. She kept her energy calm and confident and kept an eye out, paying close attention to her surroundings. They were in the park, making their way down the shaded elm tree path. As for the third Rule . . .
She noticed Max playing soccer in the field where they used to meet. He was with three other boys, plus, of course, Loralee. As if he sensed her, he turned, his eyes meeting hers. He grinned and lifted one hand in a friendly wave. Jessie did not return it. Instead, she looked past him at her enemy, narrowing her eyes on Loralee’s smug face.
Know when to leave it. Yeah, right.
“Squirrel!” Wes warned.
Pickles lunged forward, and Jessie forgot all about Loralee and Max as she dropped her weight and pulled back on the leash.
“Let’s see, there was, ‘You sure have your hands full,’ ‘That’s quite a pack,’ ‘Got room for one more,’ and, uh, ‘You need a sled.’ I think those were the main ones,” Jessie said. “Oh yeah, and the very clever ‘Who’s walking who?’” She still disliked that one the most.
“You’re forgetting one.” Wes handed her a water bottle.
Jessie drank slowly. She’d been officially walking dogs for four days now, each day hotter than the last. Today the humidity coated the world in sweat until it felt like she was breathing it in. She capped the empty bottle, and then remembered. “‘Can I pet your dogs?’” That was the one she had said, back when she’d first seen Wes. Her face burned. She had been such an amateur. You were never supposed to interrupt a dog walker on the job like that. A civilian, sure. But a dog walker? Terrible form.
Wes grinned and tossed her a granola bar. “Good job, kid. And nice work today. Three dogs at once? I’m almost impressed.”
“Thanks,” Jessie muttered, still embarrassed. She was proud of herself, though. She’d managed to successfully walk Bear, Pickles, and Sammy the golden retriever. It took a while to figure out how to organize the leashes with only two hands, but eventually she’d managed to put Pickles and Sammy together on one side and Bear on her other side. Not bad for her first week actually walking dogs.
“S
ame time tomorrow?” Wes asked.
“Of course.”
“Good. Because I think you’re ready to try Angel again.”
Jessie dropped her granola bar. “Really? You really think I’m ready?” Pride unfurled in her chest like a flag.
“Well, if you’re not, at least I’ll get a good show.” He chuckled.
“That’s not very nice,” Jessie grumbled as she picked up her granola bar.
“I know. Now scram.”
“What about Hazel?” She gave her granola bar a halfhearted brush and finished eating it. Five second rule. Besides, tonight it would be fish again for dinner. She needed all the decent food she could get before then.
“I’ll go pick her up myself later.” Wes pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “Probably could do with a shower first.”
“To pick up a dog?” Jessie thought of Hazel. And then she thought of Hazel’s beautiful, fancy house, and beautiful, fancy owner, and she thought she was getting a glimmer of . . . something. Some sort of realization that she didn’t want to examine too closely. It made her feel odd, like she was walking around in someone else’s skin. It was simpler to think everything was about the dogs, and simpler was how she preferred things.
CHAPTER 13
“May I please be excused?” Jessie asked. She’d eaten all her fish, which was a little better this time, and all the steamed asparagus, which was not.
“Sure,” Uncle David said. “Run off and be free.” He poked sadly at his own remaining asparagus and sighed.
“Me too?” Ann asked.
“Yes, yes.” Uncle David fluttered a hand at both of them.
“Wait, Jessie, Ann-Marie,” Aunt Beatrice said, and Jessie froze in a half crouch, her butt hovering a few inches off her chair. “Tomorrow we’re going to a party.”
“Ooh, a party?” Ann said. “Whose?”
“A friend of mine. She’s new in town and is throwing what promises to be a huge affair.” Aunt Beatrice’s eyes glittered with excitement. “We’ll be leaving at six p.m. sharp. I want you both showered and presentable.”
“I’m always showered and presentable.” Ann sounded offended.
“I know you are, Ann-Marie.” Aunt Beatrice smiled at her daughter, then transferred that smile to Jessie, where it grew hard and brittle. Under its force, Jessie felt her unbrushed hair and remembered she was currently wearing the same shirt she’d slept in. “Be presentable,” Aunt Beatrice repeated. “Six p.m., sharp.”
Great. Jessie hated boring, stuffy adult parties. “Now may I be excused?” she asked.
Someone knocked on the front door.
“Fine,” Aunt Beatrice said. “But go see who that is first. And David? Eat your asparagus, would you? It won’t taste good cold.”
“Don’t see how it could taste worse,” he muttered.
“David!”
“I meant, mmm, eating it now, and loving every bite!”
Jessie grinned as she opened the front door, then froze.
“Hello, Jessie,” Loralee said. She pulled her glossy lips back in a smile that was more of a snarl. “Max sends his regards.” Then she pushed past her, trilling for “Ann-Marie.”
Jessie stood there, shaking. Calm and confident energy, she told herself. Then she turned and walked as quickly as she could past the kitchen.
“Of course you can get a ride with us to the party tomorrow,” Ann was saying as Jessie hustled by. “Right, Mom?”
“We can make room,” Aunt Beatrice decided.
Jessie’s heart sank. One of her aunt’s snooty friends and Loralee? That party tomorrow was sounding worse and worse.
She retreated into Ann’s bedroom, but her solitude didn’t last long; a few minutes later Ann strolled in and flopped down on her bed. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few frosty words in days, but Jessie couldn’t resist asking, “Loralee gone already?”
“Yeah, she had to go. But we’re going to hang out all day tomorrow.” Ann’s face practically glowed. Jessie looked away. She’d seen that same eager look on the faces of the dogs she walked.
“Sounds . . . fun,” she whispered.
“Hey, maybe you can find Max tomorrow. I mean, he’ll probably be free to play soccer again.”
“No. I’ve already got plans,” Jessie said shortly.
“Suit yourself.” Ann pulled out a book, and Jessie let the silence thicken and envelop her.
“Are you ever going to tell me the next Rule?” Jessie asked as Wes drove them over to Angel’s house the next morning. She’d been asking for Rule Number Four every day that week.
Wes sighed. “Be patient.”
“Is that a Ruff Rule?”
“No, it’s a life rule.”
“Well, I’ve gotten this far without following it, so it can’t be too important.”
He rubbed the furrow between his eyebrows and muttered to himself, but Jessie knew she’d won. He usually did that before giving in. “Fine.” He pulled into Angel’s driveway. “The fourth Rule of the Ruff is this: Always be ready.”
“‘Always be ready’?”
“Yes. A dog is always ready. Time for a walk? He’s ready. Time for a nap? He’s ready. There’s food? Ready. He never has to prepare for anything, because he has all he needs with him at all times.”
“Or she,” Jessie pointed out.
Wes scowled. “I’m using ‘he’ in the general sense.”
“My dad says that’s an outmoded form of usage. It should be ‘him or her,’ and ‘he or she,’ in order to be properly grammatical.”
Wes’s scowl deepened, a pulsing vein in his forehead joining the furrow between his eyebrows. “Do you want to walk this dog, or not?”
“Yes!” Jessie scrambled out of the car, then tightened her hip pack and checked that the leash was attached securely. This would be the real test. If she could successfully walk Angel, then she truly deserved to call herself a dog walker.
Wes got out more slowly. “Now, you remember what I taught you?”
“Yes.”
“Knees bent, drop your weight, quick snap of the wrist to pull back on the leash if needed. Firm voice—”
“I remember,” Jessie interrupted. “I’m ready. You might say I’m always ready.” She grinned.
Wes’s face twitched into the beginnings of a smile. Turning away from her, he opened the gate and Jessie followed him into the yard.
She’d come here with Wes often enough since her disastrous first walk, but somehow knowing she’d be the one to walk Angel this time made it all feel different. There were the lovably mangled toys, there was the half-full water bowl in the corner, and there was the doghouse, empty.
Jessie frowned and spun around. Empty. The whole yard was empty. Angel was gone.
CHAPTER 14
Wes hammered on the front door.
“Maybe they’re not home?” Jessie suggested, still looking around for Angel. The fence was pretty high; would he have been able to jump it? The gate had been locked. Or maybe . . . “Maybe they’re taking Angel for a walk themselves?”
“No. They’re home, they’re always home. And they don’t walk Angel.”
“Why not?”
“Because they can’t handle him.” Wes pounded on the door again.
From inside, Jessie heard a woman’s voice holler, “Bill, someone’s knocking on the door!”
“So? What do you want me to do about it?” a man yelled back.
“Er, maybe this is a bad time,” Jessie suggested, inching back.
“It’s always a bad time,” Wes said. “People.” He shook his head in disgust, then straightened his shoulders and knocked again.
The door opened. “. . . do everything myself,” a woman was saying. She was short and squat, with steel-gray hair cropped shorter than Jessie’s. Jessie rather thought she resembled Angel; same wide face, large brown eyes, and drooping jowl line. When she saw Wes, the woman’s cheeks immediately flushed pink, and she took a step back. “Oh. Uh, hello, Wes.”
“Hello, Agatha.” Wes’s voice was polite, but it was impossible not to sense the impatience lurking beneath it, like a dog crouching behind a fence as the neighbor’s cat walked along the top. “I expect you know why I’m here.”
“Um, actually, I’m a bit confused,” Agatha said, but she sounded nervous. “I could have sworn we told you we didn’t need a walk today.”
“No, you most assuredly did not.”
“Bill!” she yelled.
“Coming, coming,” a man’s voice called, followed by slow, ominous footsteps. The door pulled all the way open to reveal an old man in a white tank top. Despite his hunched shoulders, he was tall, much taller than Wes, and his eyes glittered like shards of glass. “Wes.” He nodded.
“Bill,” Wes said, nodding back. Jessie shifted behind him, feeling awkward and invisible.
“Wes says you never told him today’s walk was canceled,” Agatha said.
“I didn’t,” Bill agreed. “That was supposed to be your job.”
“My job? Why my job?”
“Because it was your decision. I said sure, fine, but you had to make the switch.”
“You said no such thing!”
“Decided to go with the other dog walker, did you?” Wes said, stopping the argument in its tracks.
Bill cleared his throat. “Well, yes. Actually, that’s pretty much it.”
“May I ask why? I mean, I’ve been walking Angel for a long time, and you’ve never complained.”
Bill’s shoulders hunched a little farther. “Look, I think you do great with Angel, I really do, but—”
“Monique sends us pictures!” Agatha cut in. “Look!” She pulled out a very fancy phone and tapped a few buttons, then showed Wes something on the screen. Jessie craned around him to see.
Angel’s huge pink tongue lolled over half the screen, his wide pit bull face scrunched around it in a smile. Next to the dog was the beautiful woman from before, also smiling. “A dog selfie,” Jessie said. She hated to admit it, but it was a good picture.
“She did a trial walk yesterday afternoon,” Bill said as Agatha took the phone back.
