by Heidi Lang
Still, she’d made it. She was here.
The door stayed closed. Straightening, Jessie pounded on it again. She thought she could hear voices inside, and then a now-familiar howl. Hazel was here? How often did Wes petsit that little beast?
She pressed her ear to the door. Definitely voices. It sounded like Wes and a woman. Jessie was suddenly intensely curious. She couldn’t picture Wes having someone over for dinner. Well, maybe a couple of dogs. But a person?
Finally, the door opened a crack and Wes’s large nose poked out, followed by the rest of his grumpy face. “You. Of course it’s you.”
“Who else would it be?”
“Who else indeed.” He looked her up and down. “You look like you’ve been running.”
“I have,” Jessie said solemnly. “All the way from Zelda’s house.”
Wes’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a good three miles from here.”
“Felt like ten.”
He sighed. “I’d shut you out, but I have a feeling you’d keep knocking. And since you ran all this way,” he glanced behind him, then stepped outside and pulled the door shut, “go ahead.”
“Who’s inside?”
“Hazel.”
“Besides Hazel?”
Wes grimaced and made a point of starting the timer on his watch. “I’m giving you three minutes to tell me whatever it is. Starting . . . now.”
“Three minutes? But I just ran all the way here and it’s really import—”
“Two minutes fifty seconds.”
Jessie sighed. “Fine,” she grumbled, but she launched into her story. She knew she didn’t have a lot of time, but she still had to mention a few details about the fancy party, ending with Monique’s proclamation and then her own daring escape back here.
“Not sure I needed to hear about the cupcakes or your little teen drama—”
“I’m not a teen,” Jessie reminded him. “And it was disgusting. They were making out right in front of me. And Loralee is so, so . . .” She shuddered. “Right in front of me.”
“That does sound truly terrible.”
“It was so much worse than terrible. It was—”
“Yes, yes.” Wes waved that off. “But the rest of your story was useful.”
“Really?”
Wes nodded. “Oh yes.”
“Does that mean we’re not going to leave it anymore?”
His eyes narrowed. “No. If it’s a dogfight that woman wants, it’s a dogfight she’ll get.” He stared off across the lawn, almost as if he were searching for Monique across the distance, his nostrils flaring. Then, abruptly, he looked back down at Jessie. “And you have this key still? The spare to her car?”
Jessie nodded and showed it to him.
Wes’s smile was a terrifying thing. It was like watching a cobra spread its hood. Jessie involuntarily took a step back.
“That might help,” he said softly, taking the key from her. “That might help a lot.”
“H-help with what?”
If anything, his smile grew more terrifying. The cobra rearing back, about to strike. “Come back here Monday morning. Sunrise. We’ll come up with a plan then.”
“Monday?” Jessie asked, but Wes was already turning his back on her. “Sunrise?” she tried next. He opened the front door. “What kind of plan?” she added.
He glanced back at her. “You’ll see.”
“But—”
His timer beeped. “Ah, that’ll be your time. Good night, Jessie.” He shut the door.
Jessie stared at it. “Good night,” she whispered. It was the first time Wes had called her by her name, instead of “kid.” She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it made her nervous. Still, Wes was going to fight back. Finally. He’d fight back, and she’d help, and good would triumph over evil. Their dogs would return.
The whole way back to Ann’s house, Jessie tried thinking of a good plan for Monday. When she got inside the house, however, and found her aunt and uncle waiting for her, she realized she should have been working on a plan for tonight. Her aunt’s face was redder than she’d ever seen it before, and even Uncle David’s customary cheerful expression had been replaced by a grim mask.
“Hey, Aunt Bea, Uncle David.” Jessie tried on a weak grin. “How was the rest of the party?”
CHAPTER 19
“Of course you’re grounded,” Ann said. “You’re lucky you’re not murdered.”
“But I can’t be grounded! I need to go see Wes on Monday.” Jessie flopped onto her cot, the back of one hand pressed against her forehead.
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
Jessie didn’t dignify that with a response. She wasn’t being dramatic enough, in her opinion. Here Wes was finally going to fight back, and she wouldn’t even be able to help. This was a terrible thing. A travesty. An insurmountable obstacle.
Ann sighed. “This is your own fault, you know. If you’d just stayed at the party—”
“Blech,” Jessie said.
Ann gave her a flinty-eyed stare. Jessie had never really understood that expression before, but now she could see it: merciless. “As I was saying,” Ann continued after a long, cold moment, “if you’d just stayed, it would have been over soon and no big deal. Honestly, what were you even thinking, running away like that?”
“I wasn’t running away! I was running to. I had life-or-death information that just couldn’t wait.”
“Still being dramatic, Jessie.”
Jessie shrugged, which wasn’t easy to do lying down. “I just . . . I had to leave. I can’t explain it, but I just . . . had to.” She sat up. “I’m sorry it meant you had to leave early, too, though. I know you wanted to hang out with Loralee.”
Now it was Ann’s turn to shrug. “She would have just spent the whole time talking to Max anyhow.”
Jessie could still remember the horrible sucking noises of Max and Loralee making out in the car, and she grimaced. “Stupid Max.”
“Stupid Max,” Ann agreed. “Things were much simpler when he wasn’t around.”
That made Jessie think. “You know . . .” she said slowly, “it sounds like they were thinking they might have to leave.”
“Who? Max?”
“Max and his mom. If the dog-walking thing didn’t work out for them.” Jessie fiddled with the edge of the blanket beneath her, trying to decide if she could trust Ann. “If you help me . . .”
“If I help you . . . what?”
Jessie hesitated.
“Oh, just spit it out. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.”
“If you help me get out of this grounding, I can help drive Max out of here.”
Ann frowned. “How so?”
So Jessie told her. Not everything, but just enough. About how Monique was stealing Wes’s dogs. And about how she was going to help Wes get them back.
Ann’s frown deepened until she began to resemble Wes. “I’m not sure that’s the best way to handle this.”
“It’s the only way I know,” Jessie said. “The only way I can think of.”
“And Wes is OK with this plan? What if you get caught? You’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“I can take it.” Jessie tried to sound brave, but already she was worried she’d gone too far, just leaving the party. What if her aunt told her dad, and he decided she wasn’t mature enough for a dog of her own? That made her so sad that her eyes burned, and she had to turn away and rub at them. “I need to help Wes.”
“Is it really that important to you?” Ann asked softly.
Jessie couldn’t look at her; she was afraid she was going to start crying, so she just nodded.
“OK,” Ann said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Y-you will?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not that heartless.” Ann flicked off the lights. “Now go to sleep. I’ll talk to Mom in the morning.”
But Jessie couldn’t sleep. She was sure she’d be awake all night . . .
“. . . ssie. Jessie. Jessie!”
“What? Where? It wasn’t me!” Jessie sat up so fast her pillow slid off the cot and bounced on the floor.
“Well. I can see someone has a guilty conscience. As she should,” Aunt Beatrice said, her whole face pinched and narrow and judging.
“S-sorry,” Jessie mumbled, looking down.
Her aunt sighed. “Ann told me that you really need to go to work on Monday. And while I think you should be grounded from now until the day you leave for college, I agree that it’s important to uphold prior commitments. Something you desperately need to learn.”
Jessie tried to follow this long, vaguely offensive speech, molding her features into a mask of apology.
“So,” Aunt Beatrice continued, “I’ll consider ungrounding you Monday.”
“You will?” Ann must have worked some serious magic.
“I’ll consider it,” her aunt repeated, “if . . .”
Jessie’s heart sank. “If?” she squeaked.
“If you do everything I tell you to do this weekend. I have a lot of chores to be done: laundry to be washed and folded, corners to be dusted, boxes to be moved and organized. And you have a lot of energy and time on your hands.” Aunt Beatrice actually smiled. It was not an improvement. “You work hard for me this weekend, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll earn back your freedom.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”
Jessie thought it sounded like a pretty terrible deal, but she knew it was the best she’d get. “Yes, Aunt Beatrice.”
“Then you’d better get up, get dressed. Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”
Ann slipped inside after her mom left. “Well, I talked to her,” she said cheerfully.
“I noticed.”
Ann shifted her weight back and forth. “I mean, it won’t be a fun weekend, I know.”
“No, it won’t.” Jessie dug in her bag for a T-shirt and a pair of cotton athletic shorts.
“But it was the best I could do.”
Jessie paused and looked up at her cousin. She realized there was something Ann was waiting for. Something she deserved. Jessie sighed. “Thank you, Ann,” she mumbled.
Ann smiled sweetly. “You’re very welcome.”
And for some reason, Jessie smiled, too. She could picture the gap between them shrinking. It was still there, but now she could almost see the other side, her cousin’s side, and it wasn’t as awful as she’d thought. Maybe Ann could still be her cousin, after all.
A few hours later, Jessie had changed her mind. “She’s no cousin of mine,” she grumbled. “No cousin at all.”
“Jessie!” her aunt called. “There’s another load in the dryer for you!”
Jessie shook her head, then pictured the dogs. She was doing this for them. It would be over soon enough . . . It had to be.
CHAPTER 20
Jessie knocked softly at Wes’s door for the third time. Finally, he opened it. “What are you doing here so early?” he demanded. “Sun’s barely up.”
“You told me sunrise.”
“Did I?” Wes scratched at his head. “Well, I’m sure I didn’t mean it. Come back later.”
Jessie moved faster than he did, sticking her foot in the way of the door. She’d had a lot of practice with that move this summer. “Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get here?” she said. “I’m here, and I’m staying.”
Wes’s lips twitched. It was almost a smile, but then it was gone before Jessie could really be sure. “Fine. I suppose we do have a battle plan to come up with. Give me five minutes, and I’ll meet you at the car.”
Seven minutes later, they were on their way.
“Take these.” Wes tossed a grungy baseball hat and a battered paperback book on the back seat with Jessie.
“Uh, thanks? You shouldn’t have?” Jessie gingerly picked them up as Wes backed out of the driveway. The book was some kind of weird science-fiction novel that looked like it had been written a million years ago. Pretty cool spaceship on the cover, though, she decided.
“They’re part of your disguise,” Wes said. “You’ll be observing the enemy today, and I don’t want you spotted. Now, remember the Rules. Calm, confident energy; be aware of your surroundings; know when to leave it; and always be ready. These all apply to reconnaissance as much as to dog walking.”
“I never knew dog walkers were really just spies in training.”
Wes’s scowl deepened. “Do you want to do this, or don’t you?”
“Of course, I want to.”
“Then stop being ridiculous.”
Jessie tried, but she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Double O Seven, dog walker and government agent, reporting for duty.”
“What did I say about being ridiculous?”
“Not to be?” Jessie grinned. She couldn’t help it. She was nervous and excited and all jittery. She felt like someone had stuffed her full of bubbles, and it was hard to stop them bursting out.
Wes rubbed the furrow between his eyes. “Just use your head. Be smart. Think like a dog.” He parked near Elm Park, then twisted to face her. “I’ll be nearby.”
“You’re not joining me?”
“Someone still needs to walk these dogs. This is a solo mission. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted.
He shook his head. “Get out of my car.”
Jessie opened her door and slid out, but Wes called her back before she took two steps.
“You’re sure about this, kid?” He looked her up and down, his scowl gone, face serious.
Jessie felt some of the bubbles in her deflating under the weight of that stare. She nodded.
“OK. OK.” Wes sighed. “Be careful. I’ll see you back at the house this afternoon.” Then he took off, leaving Jessie at the edge of the park, alone and on her first covert mission.
She stared at the car until Wes turned a corner, and then she shook herself. It was time to get to work. Time to think like a dog. A dog that was also a spy. A spy dog. Jessie smiled, then headed over to the row of elm trees and found a seat on a bench near the end of the row. She pulled Wes’s old baseball cap low on her head and opened the book.
This first part was simple. She just had to sit here and study Monique’s movements. They knew the other dog walker would be at the park soon; it was the best place to walk dogs in this town. Jessie would keep track of which dogs she walked, how she walked them, what supplies she used, and anything else they might be able to use against her. It was a good chance for her to really practice the second Rule of the Ruff and be aware of her surroundings.
Jessie waited.
The sun crawled slowly higher in the sky, the heat of the day rising around her.
She waited some more.
Sweat trickled down her back, bugs buzzed nearby, and absolutely nothing else happened. She started counting down seconds, then tried to read a page of her book, then stared up at the birds chirping nearby. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Jessie sighed. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.
A dog barked.
Jessie practically leapt off her bench. Finally! But . . . it wasn’t Monique. Just some random person walking . . . “Aww, is that a pug? Can I pet her? What’s her name?”
“His name is Pugsley.”
“A pug named Pugsley?” Jessie giggled.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, her face scrunching until she resembled her dog. It wasn’t a good look on a human. “Actually, he is Sir Pugsley the Seventh.”
“The Seventh? So . . . there’s been six other Pugsleys?” Jessie scratched just above his little curled tail. He snorted happily and wriggled under her fingers.
“Obviously.” Pugsley’s owner sniffed. “Come along, Pugsley. There’s a good boy.”
Jessie watched them go, then sadly trudged back to her bench. She told herself it was for the best that the pug couldn’t stay longer; she was supposed to be On The Job. She couldn’t just abandon her post every time a cute dog walked by—“Aww, you ha
ve both sizes!” she called out to a blond woman walking four greyhounds, two large, two mini. She couldn’t help it, she had to go see them. They were even wearing little coats.
After them, she had to visit an energetic black Lab puppy (only six months, and just look at those paws!), then there were three corgis (who were surprisingly bossy, especially the white-and-gray one), a woman with a Chihuahua and a Great Dane (obviously, Jessie had to check out that combo), a couple running with some kind of husky-shepherd mix (he was a good runner, but no Angel), and an elderly man walking very slowly with a large bulldog. Jessie met them all, until—
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She spun around.
Wes stood there with Pickles and Bear strapped to his waist, his scowl in full force.
“Er . . . working?” Jessie tried.
“Get back to your bench.”
Jessie sighed and pet Bear on the top of his head, then crouched down to see Pickles, who wagged her little fluffy tail.
“Stop that,” Wes told the dog. “She doesn’t deserve your happiness.”
“That’s a little harsh.”
“What did I tell you? Back. To. Your. Bench.”
Jessie trudged back to her bench.
“And stay there,” Wes called as he took his dogs past.
So Jessie stayed. And stayed. And stayed. She began to wonder if Monique was even going to come this way. Maybe she was wasting her whole life, sitting still in one place, and it was all for nothing.
And then, finally, just as that horrible thought swirled around in her head like a clump of hair caught in a bathtub drain, she saw her. The Enemy. With Sweetpea and Zelda. Jessie pulled the bill of her hat down low and held up her book to hide her face. And then she watched.
Monique came back to the park four times, each time with a different pack of dogs. She was only walking them in groups of two or, at most, three, and even then she was struggling. Jessie could see the frustration on her face as Sweetpea dug in her heels when she wanted to go in a different direction, as Ox and Marco, a pair of basset hounds, pulled her all around chasing scents, as Angel lunged at squirrels. By the time the woman was walking her last group of dogs, this time a pair of cattle dogs Jessie hadn’t met before, Monique’s face was drawn, her lips thin, and her movements were sharp and jerky.
