Immortal Max

by Lutricia Clifton

  “You know, he likes to play games on his Xbox.”

  “Games of strategy?”

  “Yes, sir. Games where you beat the socks off the enemy.”

  No, kill the enemy. And in this game Justin wants to kaput me.

  “Should I apologize to everybody whose places were damaged, Professor Muller? Would that make it okay?”

  He pauses, blinking rhythmically. “No, just continue as Chief Beaumont told you to do. These things have a way of quieting down, but—” A frown cracks his forehead. “In all likelihood, Justin expected you to be fired and you weren’t, so who’s to say what he might try? As John Milton said, ‘He that studieth revenge keepeth his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.’”

  Even though the words are cryptic, the warning is clear. Watch out.

  My muscles are bricks as I start out with the dogs. My intestines are stringy knots. Although Justin’s driving privileges have been taken away, I watch over my shoulder. Rules don’t mean anything to him. When we reach the corner lot and nothing has happened, my muscles relax.

  I turn the four dogs loose so they can run free, leashes still attached so I can catch them easily. As I watch them play, I hear a noise behind me. Glancing toward the gap between houses, I see a boy and a dog watching us. Not just any dog. The most beautiful sable German shepherd I’ve ever seen. The dog of my dreams.

  A giant, the shepherd must weigh a hundred pounds. His coat is the color of ebony. The silver hair on his back, moonlight. His teeth, long and razor sharp. I can tell because the dog is lunging at his leash. Snarling and snapping.

  Bruno the Beast.

  Justin stumbles toward me. A pull toy dragged by a mythological warrior dog.

  My muscles tighten to bricks again.

  “Come, Siegfried. Apollo, Buddy, Baby—come.” I grab their leashes. Glance at Bruno. He’s close enough now that I can see yellow strings of drool.

  “Heel, Bruno!” Justin yells. “Heel!” His commands are useless. Straws in a tornado.

  My heart pounds in my ears. My breath catches in my throat. My mind fills with images. Bruno snapping Apollo in half like a snack cracker. Cracking Buddy and Baby like chicken bones. Gobbling Siegfried for dessert. I chance another look.

  Justin’s face is worse than Bruno’s. Twisted. Bloodred. Angry. I wonder what he intends to do. And how to stop him before he can do it.

  Stall, the voice in my head whispers.

  “Gee, Bruno’s a beautiful dog, Justin.” I hear my voice shaking and hope Justin can’t.

  “Yeah, thought you’d like to see what a real dog looks like.” He lets out a hyena laugh.

  What was it Rosie said?

  Ignore bullies… .

  “Heel, Siegfried.” The little Min Pin falls into step. I pick up Apollo, Buddy, and Baby and focus on ignoring Justin and Bruno. Legs trembling, I mumble, “Um, gotta get the dogs home. If I’m late, their owners come looking for me.”

  The lie is as thin as my voice. I try to hurry, but my muscles have turned to wet noodles.

  Reaching the road, I chance another peek and can’t believe my eyes. Justin is on the ground, yelling “Heel!” again and again. Bruno has become a four-legged Determinator, dragging him like a floppy toy. In desperation, Justin loops Bruno’s leash around a tree to stop him. A dog hitching post.

  That’s when I get it. I don’t have to ignore Justin the Jerk. The bully can’t do anything to me because he has his hands full with another bully. Bruno.

  Time for a taste of his own medicine… .

  “Hey, Justin. I got a book on dog training, you want to borrow it? Even a pedigreed dog’s not worth anything if it can’t be trained.” I throw in a hyena giggle. A-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.

  The last words I hear are icing on the cake: “Heel, Bruno. Please, heel!”

  I deliver Apollo to Mr. P and tell him everything went fine. He gives me five dollars, plus cookies. Buddy and Baby are next. When they’re locked safely inside, I jog with Siegfried to his house, pick up the backyard, and get another five dollars. I turn to leave, but Professor Muller stops me.

  “Have you read the book on mythology?”

  “Yes, sir, some of it. The days of the week were named for heroes. Like Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.”

  His dark eyes shine. “And I read all about Siegfried.”

  He smiles.

  “But I couldn’t find a hero or a god named Bruno.”

  “Bruno?” The pleased look changes to puzzled.

  “Justin Wysocki named his German shepherd Bruno. I figure it’s for one of the mythological heroes.”

  “I’m afraid not, Samuel. Bruno is German for brown.”

  “Brown. You mean, like the color brown?”

  He nods.

  “So it’s like naming a dog Brownie?”

  “That would be a fair translation.”

  Justin’s big expensive dog with a pedigree a yard long is named Brownie.

  “You’re probably thinking of Fenrir,” he says.

  “Who’s that?”

  “A giant wolf in myth that, it was foretold, would kill Odin. But others prevented it from doing so. It was killed eventually.”

  “Yeah?”

  “But not before biting off another god’s hand.”

  “Wow, that sucks. But let me get this straight. Bruno means …”

  “Brown.”

  I drop off Mrs. Callahan’s key at the office and grin all the way home.

  Neither Beth nor Mom is smiling. Their faces are flushed; their eyes throw darts at each other. I can tell they’ve been arguing, but they clam up as soon as I walk into the kitchen.

  After Mom stalks out to the garden shed, I turn to Beth. “What’s up?”

  Beth pours us both a glass of tea from the refrigerator. “Got a flat on my Subaru, and the spare is flat, too. Asked to borrow Mom’s van but she has a delivery to make—had a delivery to make. She’s going to call and see if the customer can pick it up so I can take the van.” She takes a long drink, then sighs. “She’s insisting I get new tires before I leave for Colorado.”

  I give it a minute. Say, “Probably a good idea.”

  Beth turns flashing eyes on me. “Like I told you, I’m busted. I’ve paid my tuition in advance and still have to buy gasoline for the trip. Hopefully, there’s some left over for Top Ramen noodles and a bag of apples when I reach Colorado.”

  “You could talk to Mom about pulling Rosie out of the princess pageant.” I take a long drink of tea, letting her consider the option. “That way, she wouldn’t have to pay the rest of the entry fee. Seventy-five bucks would go a long way.”

  Beth answers with silence.

  Right. It was a dumb idea.

  Chapter 21

  Rosie’s a superball as we cross the road Tuesday to cheerleading practice. Bouncy. Wound up. “Can I sleep in the tent with you and Max tonight?”

  “No. I’m sleeping there because my mattress is wet. Yours isn’t.”

  She darkens to a storm cloud. Ready to pour.

  “There’s not enough room, and …” I take a time-out, searching for something more convincing. Something she’ll buy. “And you need your beauty sleep. You know, for the pageant.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  We sit on the front porch, watching Bailey, Yee, and Anise build pyramids. After ten perfect ones, they take a break.

  “That’s really good, guys. Practice is paying off.”

  “We’ve been practicing a lot at camp, too.” Bailey’s shirt and shorts are starting to bag, a sign her diet is working. “The coach says we’re a good team.”

  “True dat,” Anise says. “I heard she’s planning on letting us team up after school starts.”

  “True dat?” Bailey looks at Anise.

  “Whoops—I slipped. It’s something Saffron used to say. You know, street talk. Dad doesn’t want me talking like her.”

  “True dat. I like it.”

  Yee frowns. “It’s not proper English
.” She watches Bailey and Anise roll their eyes at each other. “But it is kind of cool.”

  Yee looks at me. “Speaking of proper English, where’s Sid the Brain Kid?”

  “It’s the pageant. His mom’s having him paint the conference room pink.”

  Talk moves to favorite colors. Pink ranks high.

  I yawn.

  Talk moves to the pageant.

  I get up, walk toward the road.

  “Hey, where you going?” Bailey calls out to me.

  “Need to take care of chores. Could one of you make sure Rosie gets across the road?”

  A chorus of okays trails after me. I don’t really have chores. I’m just bored silly with pageant talk.

  The house is quiet, too quiet. I start thinking about the puppies. And wondering if they’re still available.

  I shouldn’t bother Mrs. Kendall again… .

  I dial from Mom’s phone in the living room.

  “Sold the female puppy just this morning. That leaves two male puppies.” Mrs. Kendall hesitates. “You still working to save money?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. For sure. It’s as good as in the bank. I’ll be calling you soon.” Click.

  Please, don’t let that be a lie.

  Chapter 22

  Wednesday feels like a spring day. Cool and breezy. The dogs run ahead of me, playing and nipping at each other. I’ve only had to give them water once. They finish their business fast. I keep a close watch for Justin, but he’s a no-show. We’re heading back when I see him coming.

  Not Justin. Bruno. Running free. No leash.

  On purpose?

  I gather the three smallest dogs and yell, “Run!” to Siegfried. But Bruno has an edge. Long legs and massive muscles. He topples us like bowling pins. The three little dogs land on top of me, and Siegfried ends up under all of us. Squashed like an aluminum pop can. His cries tell me he’s hurt again.

  “Get away! Get back! Go home!” I wave my arms at Bruno and stretch them overhead to look bigger. Finally, he retreats. Chief Beaumont pulls up as I’m sorting dogs and helps me untangle leashes. Together we examine Siegfried.

  “Just scared, mostly.” The little pinscher trembles so badly, he can’t stand.

  “Justin responsible for this?”

  “No, sir. Bruno.”

  Chief Beaumont frowns. “The dog wasn’t on leash?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re sure it was Bruno?”

  “Oh, yeah. Justin walked him on Monday and brought him here to show me. I made fun of him ’cause he couldn’t make Bruno mind.”

  “Made fun of him … ,” the chief repeats slowly.

  The voice in my head says, Should have ignored him.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That probably wasn’t a good idea.”

  Nodding, Chief Beaumont says, “Well, you won’t have to worry about that kind of thing anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Is he going to take Bruno away from Justin? Can he do that?

  “That’s why I came looking for you, Sam. I thought some more about turning the corner lot into a dog park and got approval from the Board of Directors. Soon as I recruit enough volunteers, we’ll extend the fenced area. From now on, people can exercise their dogs without fear of getting run over. By car or animal.”

  “That’s great. Now Mr. P, Mrs. Callahan, and Professor Muller can exercise their dogs.”

  “Yes, but …” The chief’s look is piercing. “Sam, do you understand what this means?”

  “Oh.” A vise squeezes my lungs so tight, I can hardly breathe. “I don’t have a job anymore, do I?”

  “That would be up to the people you’re working for. You could continue to work until we get the dog run fenced, but …” He looks at Siegfried. “Not sure that’s a good idea. I can give Justin’s father a citation for letting Bruno run free, but I’m powerless to do much else. If Justin pulls the same stunt again …”

  He’s worried one of the dogs will get hurt. Really hurt.

  “But it’s important I walk the dogs as long as I can. I don’t have enough to buy my puppy.”

  “You’re buying a puppy… .” He looks away, then turns back at me. “All right,” he says. “I’m taking your word on this incident, Sam. Something I don’t ordinarily do.”

  “It was Bruno, I know it was.”

  “All right. Get the dogs home now. I have to go issue someone another citation.”

  This time, I carry Siegfried and let the other three walk. The little warrior dog has earned a free ride.

  My mattress hasn’t dried completely, so I’m still sharing the tent with Max. As darkness deepens, my mind becomes a calculator figuring how much more I need. I have the hundred dollars I started with, minus ten for the ad. Another thirty I earned. By the weekend, forty-five more. A hundred sixty-five dollars in all. Less than half of what I need. To earn the balance will take …

  Over four weeks!

  I bury my head in Max’s thick coat. Suddenly, he jerks his head up. Growling. Listening, I hear a snap outside the tent.

  “What is it?” I strain my eyes through the mosquito-net closing. See nothing.

  Max pushes to his feet, nosing the door cover to get out. I unzip it and let him out, climb out behind him. He disappears in the shadows.

  I listen for him to bark. Or growl.

  Nothing.

  Wait … what is that?

  Something rounds the corner of the barn, tall and flowing. Silvery moonlight gliding across the ground. I wish I’d brought my ball bat from my bedroom. Or that Max were here beside me.

  Where is Max?

  Then I see him. A phantom dog walking beside the apparition.

  “Did I wake you, Sammy?”

  “Mom—what are you doing out here?”

  “I brought your pillow. At least it’s dry. You know, you could sleep on the sofa in the living room. Be a lot more comfortable.”

  “No, this is good.” I take the pillow. “I, uh, I kind of like listening to the frogs and owls. Besides, Max needs help guarding Birdie.”

  “All right, then.” She shakes her head slightly. “See you in the morning.”

  Max crawls into the tent with me.

  “You could’ve said something, Max. I’m supposed to be your alpha person.”

  He pants, discharging dog breath. Garlic and spoiled bologna.

  I dispense two charcoal dog biscuits.

  The night noises seem louder, like the frogs are using amplifiers. The owls, loudspeakers.

  Then nothing. A yawning quiet.

  The hairs on my arms stand up. Max’s ears are at alert. We listen and wait. Wait and listen. Breathing shallow.

  Night noises resume.

  I sigh, drawing a conclusion. My imagination is working overtime.

  Still, a ball bat might come in handy… .

  As Max starts to snore, I go back to being a calculator. A broken calculator that can’t come up with the right number.

  Why did I have to mention a dog park to Chief Beaumont?

  Sleeping bag a crying towel.

  Chapter 23

  The noise Max and I heard in the night turned out to be raccoons, a mother and three young ones again. The four marauders left footprints everywhere, broke four clay pots, and dug up Mom’s perennial garden looking for grubs and roots. There’s plenty of work to fill the morning. No list required.

  After cheer practice, Bailey, Yee, and Anise come over to visit Max and Birdie. There are four birds now, growing fast. Birdie spends her days pulling worms.

  “Poor Birdie, let’s help.” Rosie runs to the garden shed and brings back shovels. Before I can stop them, she, Anise, and Bailey start digging earthworms. Yee can’t stand to touch one, so she brushes Max instead.

  “I like that you put up that tent for him. And his breath is a little better.” She’s wearing a pink tank top and tan shorts. “You are feeding him dog biscuits, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Yee’s bossiness grates on my nerves
. My sleepless night has made me groggy. My head throbs because I crunched numbers all night. I just want to go to my room and take a nap. But I can’t. My mattress is still on the picnic table, drying out.

  “Why did you do that?” She looks hurt. “Am I being too bossy?”

  I don’t answer. I don’t want to tell her about seeing ghosts in the night and calculating numbers that wouldn’t add up.

  “I’ll try not to be so bossy.”

  I make a discovery about girls. Sometimes silence says more than words.

  “Did you hear about the dog park? Don’t you think it’s a great idea?”

  Why did she have to bring that up?

  “Why would I care? I’m an outsider.”

  She looks hurt again.

  I mumble, “Sorry.”

  “Sammy’s going to lose his job.” Rosie sits down next to Yee.

  “What?” Anise stops shoveling worms. Bailey, too. Everyone stares at Rosie.

  “That’s what Patty told me today. Her mom bought some plants from Mom.”

  “Why?” Bailey says, looking at me.

  “Oh.” Yee’s eyes switch to high beams. “It’s because we’re building a dog park… .”

  No one says a word with their mouths, but four pairs of eyes give me pitying looks. I can’t stand it.

  “I, uh, I need to get the trash can out on the street.”

  “Why?” Bailey frowns. “The trash gets picked up on Fridays. That’s tomorrow.”

  “I know, but I have to work in the morning and won’t have time.”

  A lie and they all know it. There’ll be plenty of time in the morning to put out the trash can.

  “Empty my trash can, too!” Rosie yells to me.

  “Do your own chores!”

  The cheerleaders return to Bailey’s for practice, and I drag the trash can out to the street. Planning to spend the rest of the day in my room, I hurry back inside. The plan falls apart. I’m drawn to the telephone like a magnet to metal. I dial the number by heart, listen to Mrs. Kendall answer the phone, and ask my usual question.

  “As a matter of fact, we sold another one just last night. That leaves just one puppy. A male.”

  My lungs refuse to inflate. “You … you only have one puppy left?”