Plus, she bakes every day. EVERY DAY, Julia. I know … first-world problems.
I can’t help but wonder how Uncle Merv really is with all this. He grumbles about the noise but then tells her to do whatever she wants because he can’t take the damn house to his grave. He loves talking about his grave. It’s morbid. Is that what happens when people get old? Is that all they do? Talk about dying? He doesn’t go anywhere. Mom finally got it out of him that they suspended his license because he ran down five pylons in a construction zone. He’s lucky that’s all he ran down. Iris is the only one who visits every so often. If she was trying to woo him, I think she has given up.
I came home from school today to find him sitting in his chair with his headphones on, listening to an audiobook, and staring up at that wedding picture Mom had framed (she found a hammer: Mick’s).
I think he really misses Aunt Connie.
~AJ
* * *
The wind is brisk as we lead Murphy and Roger Dodger in through the back door of the animal shelter, their tongues lolling and their tails wagging. Despite his hip impediment, Murphy managed to keep up with the little Lhasa Apso during our trek across the farm field behind the shelter property.
“Did you remember to pick up after him, Cassie?” Pat calls out from the front desk.
“Yes!”
I give her a flat look.
She grins. “AJ did it for both of us.”
And I think I’ve been manipulated. Last week, she struggled with holding the bouncy dog still while she bent down to collect, so I did it for her. This week, she didn’t even bother trying. She simply smiled, handed me a bag, and asked, “Oh, could you help me again? I’m having trouble.”
“Teach a girl to fish, Cassie …” Pat scolds softly.
“Yeah, I know.” She laughs, bending down to pat Roger’s head. “But I don’t like dog poop.”
“Neither do I.” I lead Murphy to his kennel. But when I open the door, he backs away, lifting his nose to graze my hand, leaving a wet trail across my palm. “I’m sorry, Murph.”
Gloomy brown eyes peer up at me.
“I know. It’s not fair. But you’ve gotta go. Come on.”
He bows his head and ambles in, easing himself down to settle his chin on the piece of ragged remnant carpet that lines the bottom.
And my heart aches, looking down at him. He’s going to lie there until he’s taken for his next walk, whenever that is. Sit here, in this drab room. His home, until he dies.
Is he counting down his days like Uncle Merv?
“Aww. He looks so sad.” Cassie’s brow furrows deeply as she studies him. As much as she misses human emotional cues, she seems acutely in tune when it comes to animals.
“He does, doesn’t he?” An idea strikes me. “Hey, Pat?”
Pat pokes her head around the corner.
“Are dogs allowed out of the shelter for the night?”
* * *
“I wish I could bring Roger Dodger home,” Cassie pouts as Heather pulls into their driveway. Emmett’s SUV is gone. So is my mom’s, I note. She must still be out grocery shopping.
“Well, we can, but we’d have to get rid of your father.” Heather smiles at her daughter. “Should we do that?”
“Yeah.” Cassie grins. “Let’s get rid of him and bring Roger Dodger home.”
Heather chuckles. “You know, I’m not sure you’re joking.” Her wary blue-gray eyes peer through the rearview mirror at the big old Labrador in her back seat. It took both Cassie and I to help him in. “Are you sure Merv and your mom are going to be okay with this?”
I shrug. “You know Merv.”
Those eyes in the mirror shift to me. “Exactly. I know Merv.”
“I already suggested it to him, and he didn’t say no.” Both are true facts. “And it’s only for the night.” For now. I’m crossing my fingers that Uncle Merv will like having Murphy around. I can’t believe Pat went along with the idea in the first place, but I think she feels as sorry for the poor old dog as I do. I guess it’s not the worst thing if I have to take him back tomorrow.
“I’m pleading ignorance.” Heather sighs. “It is a nice thing you’re doing for him, though.”
“Maybe you can remind my mother of that in case she brings this up.”
Cassie giggles as she climbs out and opens the back door. “Come on, Murph!”
“We might have to help—oh, maybe not.” I watch as he carefully picks his way down, first to the floor of the back seat, before hopping out of the car. His nose lifts in the air to inhale the crisp scent.
I collect his leash, though I don’t bother to put it on. He’s not going to run.
“Can I come with you?” Cassie asks.
“That’s a good idea. You can be a witness if Uncle Merv kills me.”
She bursts out laughing. “You’re joking. Mom! I’m going next door!”
Heather smiles after her. “For a minute. You’re helping me with dinner tonight. Send her home in five, Aria.”
Murphy hobbles along beside me as we cross the front lawns, his nose to the grass, his tail wagging. He slows by Uncle Merv’s prized rose bush, sniffing around its base.
And then he lifts his leg.
“No!” I whisper-cry, checking the bay window off the living room to make sure Uncle Merv’s not watching, wishing now that I had put on his leash. Not that I’d be able to drag the seventy-pound dog away without hurting him.
Meanwhile, Cassie laughs hysterically.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Uncle Merv,” I warn her with wide eyes. “He’ll get mad.”
Her face goes slack, the humor gone in an instant. “At me?”
“No! At Murphy.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nods solemnly.
“Not a smart move if you want to stay, Murph.” I climb the porch steps. He limps up behind me.
Cassie opens the front door as if she lives there, gesturing for Murphy to follow her. “Hello, Uncle Merv!” she bellows. “Guess who came to visit you?”
“Eh? What’s that?” comes the gruff response from the living room.
I hold my breath.
“What the hell is that?”
Cassie laughs. “This is Murphy. Say hi, Murphy.”
I dare poke my head around the corner to see Uncle Merv frowning at Murphy as he ambles around, sniffing everything. “So, remember that dog I was telling you about?”
“I remember you telling me about him,” he grumbles. “I don’t remember telling you to bring him home with you.”
“It’s just for the night. Murphy’s been in that shelter for over six months, and he looked so sad going into that tiny little cage in the horrible dark, lonely room.” I lay it on thick as I reach down to scratch the dog’s graying head. “I thought he’d like a change of scenery and you might like the company. He’s easy and quiet, and don’t worry, I’ll walk him later tonight, and tomorrow morning.”
Uncle Merv grunts. “Does Debra know about this?”
“I thought it would be a nice surprise?”
I get a bark of laughter in return. “It’ll be a surprise all right,” he mutters, watching Murphy mosey up to his armchair and sniff his pant legs.
“So … I’ll be upstairs doing my homework if you need me. Cassie, you need to go home.”
“Bye, Murphy!” Cassie waves to the dog, waits a few beats as if expecting him to respond, and then trudges off across the front lawns.
I take my time climbing the steps, bending to steal a glance between the railings. Murphy has settled onto his haunches beside the chair.
“You’re an old guy, aren’t ya?” Uncle Merv finally reaches over and scratches Murphy’s head. “Old like me …”
I smile to myself as I dive onto my bed and pull out my phone. I have hours of math and biology homework to do tonight. But for now, I need a few moments to stare longingly at the screenshots of Emmett’s face that I stole from Holly’s Instagram.
Only to see that Emmett has sent me a follow
request.
Butterflies stir in my stomach as I approve it, bumping my total follower count to two—the Hartford children.
He hasn’t added any new pictures, but I spend a few minutes scrolling through his feed anyway. On impulse, I switch to Holly’s, curious to see if she’s posted anything post-breakup. If she has finally acknowledged it.
All the pictures of Emmett are gone.
Every last one of them. She has combed through her collection and removed all traces of her ex-boyfriend.
Maybe that means she’s finally moving on.
Maybe she’ll stop trying to murder me with her eye-daggers.
I smile at the tacky stars above my head. Tomorrow is my first cross-country mini-meet, against Baylor Oaks Secondary School. And tomorrow night I’m going to the Fall Fair with Emmett.
And Cassie and Zach.
But … Emmett.
I’m still smiling up at my ceiling twenty minutes later when the front door creaks open. My mother’s home.
I brace myself.
“Aria!”
* * *
Swirls and flashes of blue, green, and red neon carnival lights compete with the steady stream of brake and headlights, as cars slowly snake in and out of the Fall Fair parking lot—nothing more than a grassy field in the middle of nowhere, along dark, quiet roads. Traffic controllers in fluorescent orange vests wave batons, directing us down the long, bumpy makeshift laneway to the available spots.
I find myself smiling at the chaotic scene as I climb out of the back seat of Zach’s car, fragments of a distant memory resurfacing—of me, dangling from my father’s hand, my other hand gripping a bag of cotton candy, of our laughter. Long before he decided he wanted a new life, a new family. Does he take his stepdaughter, Charlotte, to the fair?
I’m sure he’ll take my half-brother, Teddy, when he’s old enough.
I push those dark thoughts aside because I have a new life, too, and so far it’s shaping up to be everything that I could ever want.
“So, what’s your favorite ride, AJ?” Zach tugs on his black toque and zips his jacket. A bitter cold front blew in last night, bringing with it a forecast of single-digit temperatures and the threat of frost, according to Uncle Merv, who is fretting over his pumpkins and squash, and whatever is left in the garden that my mother hasn’t managed to bake into a loaf.
“I don’t think I have one?” I huddle in my quilted vest, wishing I’d worn a hat, and peer up at the Ferris wheel. “Not that.”
Emmett grins down at me. “Why? You afraid of heights?”
“No,” I deny, too quickly to hide my lie.
In the next moment, he’s stooping to wrap an arm around my thighs, and then I’m off the ground and falling over his shoulder. I squeal with a mixture of surprise and delight, all while demanding that he put me down. Cassie’s howls of childish laughter carry through the parking lot.
He sets me back down again with deft hands, so fast that it takes me a moment to regain my balance. I stumble a touch, and he grabs onto my shoulders.
“Sorry. I forgot you had the meet today. Are your legs sore?”
“No. They’re fine.” They’re tired. Tomorrow they’ll be sore. But if Emmett wants to throw me over his shoulders, I’ll gladly let him.
I placed third, which isn’t first but it also isn’t fifth, which is where Holly landed, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy beating her, even if she’s on my team. So much for me being “so slow.”
“Good.” He grins and I lock my legs before my knees buckle.
“Hey, guys, I am not going in the haunted house,” Cassie declares, fussing to adjust her scarf and mitts. It’s the fifth time she’s said it since Zach pulled into our driveway tonight.
Emmett hooks an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. “We know, Cassie. We know.”
Her joyful giggles blend into the carnival sounds.
* * *
“Can I try again? Please?” Cassie’s eyes are on the bug-eyed, pink-and-white stuffed animal dangling from the hook as she pleads with Emmett, the strip of game tickets gripped tightly within her fingers, as if afraid she’ll lose them to the breeze.
“Yeah, but this is the last shot, Cass. We’re out of money for games.” He adds with a grumble, “We could have bought three of them for what we spent on trying tonight.”
With a determined nod, she hands the skinny middle-aged guy behind the counter five tickets—for the fourth time—grinning at him as he sets three softballs in front of her.
“You know the drill,” he mumbles, his hands tucked into the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt, his bored gaze rolling over the crowd. He doesn’t look particularly happy about being here, though I’m guessing the life of a traveling carnival operator isn’t a particularly easy or glamorous one.
“I have to get two balls in,” she confirms as she lifts the first one.
It lands in the woven basket, earning her squeal of glee.
“Okay! See? You can do this! Just one more.” I watch the man’s attention flitter to Cassie, studying her. He can tell she’s different. But can he tell what a big deal it’d be for her to win? Does he care?
The next two balls do a lap inside the basket before spiraling out.
Cassie’s shoulders slump with disappointment. And so do mine, I realize. Unlike this guy, I did really want to see her win.
I catch the guy’s cold, gray eyes and ask, “Hey, what’s that thing about fourth time’s the charm?”
He looks at Cassie and then out to the crowd, and I’m ready to lead her away so she doesn’t have to hear him tell us to beat it, that she lost fair and square.
But then he reaches below the counter to grab one more ball, and he sets it in front of Cassie. “Make it count, kid,” he warns, offering nothing more than the smallest of nods my way.
“Oh. Okay.” Cassie picks up the ball. I’m not sure she comprehends what just happened—that she’s getting a free shot.
She tosses it at the woven basket.
It does a lap before settling inside.
“Hey! You did it, Cassie!” Emmett cheers from behind.
“I did?” Her face is serious as she looks from him to me, to the ball, to the guy. “Did I win?”
“Which one do you want?” The game operator asks by way of answer, throwing a thumb at the stuffed animals.
She doesn’t miss a beat, thrusting her hand forward to point out the cat-fox thing, her gray-blue eyes bright, the smile on her face contagious.
Even the man’s stony face cracks for a second as he tosses it to her waiting grasp, just before he slaps an “on break” sign on the counter and ducks away.
“I can’t believe it! I won!” Cassie holds the stuffed toy up to examine it closely before hugging it close to her chest.
I meet Emmett’s coffee-brown eyes then, and my heart stutters at the soft look in them as he regards me. “Thank you,” he mouths.
I shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Meanwhile, blood is racing through my veins.
Zach wanders up, shoving a fluffy wad of blue cotton candy into his mouth. “You win that, Cass? Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Her grin somehow grows wider.
“Way to go. High five!” He holds up a hand and she meets it with a resounding slap of hers. “So, where to next? Haunted house?”
The smile falls off abruptly. “I’m not going in there.” She punctuates the refusal with a vigorous shake of her head.
Zach laughs. “I know. I was only kidding. You don’t have to.” He holds his bag of cotton candy out for her to take some. “AJ and Emmett will go. You and I can hang out here.”
“Is AJ scared?” she asks Zach. She does that sometimes, I’ve noticed—ask questions about people as if they’re not there. It’s usually when she’s too excited to focus.
“I don’t know,” Zach says patiently. “But she’s standing right beside you, so you should ask her.”
She turns to me, her eyes bright with amusement. “Are you
scared, AJ?”
“No.”
“Oh. Good.” Her attention veers back to her prize, wrapped tightly within her arms. She’s smiling at it as she warns, “Watch out for that man.”
I frown. “Which man?”
“The one who …” She sticks her tongue out and makes a licking motion in the air.
“Excuse me?” I feel my eyebrows climb my forehead. “A man is going to lick me?”
Emmett laughs and seizes my biceps from behind. “No one’s going to lick you. It’s a wet sponge,” he promises, leading us to the two-story, rickety wooden façade. A roped path leads up to the fake porch where the entrance is curtained off. He hands the operator our tickets. “You ready?”
“I’m not sure anymore,” I say warily.
With a grin and a nod toward the attraction, he lingers long enough for me to pass him, his hand skating across the small of my back for the briefest moment. Just long enough for my heart to skip a few beats, just quick enough for me to question if he meant to do it. “Don’t worry, the whole thing’s pretty lame. That part freaked her out because it’s pitch-black and, well, she’s Cassie.”
“Wet things touching me in the dark would probably freak me out, too.” I push past the heavy black drape, only to find myself caught in another one.
Emmett snorts. “No comment.”
I playfully elbow him as my cheeks heat. “God, how many curtains do they need?” I fumble through layer after layer until I finally break free.
A skeleton with glowing red eyes pops out from the wall to the left, the accompanying recorded cackle startling me enough to make me yelp and lurch backward, into Emmett’s hard body.
He laughs as he grips my waist. “I knew that’d get you.” His hands linger a few beats longer than necessary before he releases me. My heart is pounding, and it has nothing to do with the collection of plastic bones and electrical wire dangling from the wall.
Be the Girl: a Novel Page 13
