Sit, Stay, Love Page 2

  My aunt is my dad’s older sister. She’s very protective of Dad, so she doesn’t like it when I make his life less easy. Which, since I’m his kid, is pretty much every day.

  “I just have to ask, Cecilia, what were you thinking, sitting up there in the dark … on the floor?” I snapped back out of my waffle coma to hear what my aunt was asking me. “You had an entire perfectly decent house to sit in, and you picked the closet? I just don’t understand.”

  I thought about telling her that it wasn’t dark in there … after all, I had a string of purple battery-operated LED lights. But it didn’t seem like a terrific idea to tell my aunt that I not only hung out in my closet but I also decorated it.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t hear the sirens.”

  “Hmmph.” Aunt Pam made a sound as she pulled up to a stoplight. Meanwhile, to make myself feel better, I thought about little Potato and the speedy recovery I was sure he was making over at Orphan Paws. I was so excited to see him again after school that day.

  Aunt Pam looked over at me. “You know, we really need to do something about all of this.” She swept a hand up and down like she was Windexing a window or something.

  “All of what?” I asked.

  “Well.” She stalled, but it was a very brief hesitation. “First, your clothes, obviously, though that may be up to your father. I’ll speak to him. Second, there’s your hair …”

  “What’s wrong with my hair?” I instinctively touched my straight brown hair.

  “It’s just … it needs more shape.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled, crossing my arms and slouching down in the passenger seat. We were just two blocks from school, so I was sure she was about to run out of time to list all of my faults.

  I gave a big sigh. “What else?”

  “Excuse me?” Aunt Pam sputtered in surprise.

  “I’m just saying, we might as well get it all over with,” I said.

  “Honestly, Cecilia—” she began, but I interrupted her.

  “Why are we talking about the shape of my hair? My house almost burned down two days ago!” I felt bad talking back to Aunt Pam, but I was so frustrated I couldn’t help it.

  “Don’t be overdramatic, Cecilia. The damage was confined to the kitchen and living room.”

  “That’s half the house,” I told her, sinking even lower into the car seat.

  “Well, I suppose it is. But your father is meeting with the fire chief. I’m sure they’ll let him know when it’s safe to return. It will be quite a job cleaning up.”

  “Do they know what started it?” I asked, glad for once that I wasn’t allowed to have candles in my room.

  “Something electrical.” Aunt Pam waved a hand dismissively. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

  “But what about all my stuff?”

  I hadn’t let myself think too much about the contents of my room yet. At first I’d been embarrassed at having to be rescued, then I was just relieved that Dad was okay. After that I was dealing with the fact that I might have to stay with my aunt for an unknown length of time. Then after last night I’d mostly been thinking about Potato.

  “I’m sure we’ll be able to get your things soon,” Aunt Pam said.

  When she pulled up to the school, I sat up and grabbed my backpack from the floorboard. I opened the door. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, leaping out of the car.

  “You’re welcome, Cecilia. When does your school day end? I’ll pick you up right here.”

  “Thanks, but I’m working,” I told her, accidentally slamming the car door in my haste.

  “Cecilia, young ladies do not slam car doors. And what do you mean working? You have a job?”

  “I mean, I’m volunteering. At the dog shelter. I told you all about it at Christmas, remember?”

  “Your father knows about this?”

  “Yup,” I called over my shoulder, already jogging in hopes of not being late to science. I was also glad to be away from Aunt Pam.

  I raced through the front lobby all the way to my locker, grabbed my books for the first few classes, slammed the door, turned, and ran right into something.

  Or someone.

  I fell backward, landing in a heap of papers and books. I looked up to see that I’d bumped into Eric Chung, who was possibly the most popular boy in the eighth grade—with an attitude to prove it.

  Of all people to run into!

  Eric was already squatting down, gathering up some of the papers that had fallen all over the hallway.

  “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine!” I yelled. That is, I realized I’d yelled once I saw Eric frown at me, looking confused/horrified. Somehow, in trying to make up for being out of it, I’d overdone it with the volume.

  Honestly, Cecilia, said a voice in my head.

  Eric blinked. He handed me a stack of papers he’d gathered. “Here you go,” he said, in a very cautious-sounding voice. Like maybe he thought I was going to yell again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, fixing my eyes somewhere around the collar of his T-shirt. “For yelling, I mean. I just … I was … that is, I’m …” First the falling, then the yelling … I really just wanted to gather up the rest of my stuff and get out of there.

  I looked up. Eric’s very dark eyes were looking into mine. He actually seemed more concerned than frightened now. Maybe he wasn’t quite as big a jerk as I’d always thought. He opened his mouth to speak again. I held my breath.

  He spoke very slowly. “Uh, did you maybe hit your head or something?” he asked, in a tone that suggested that I had not only hit my head but maybe damaged my brain, too.

  I let out the breath I’d been holding and closed my eyes. “No,” I answered, deciding that nice Eric had probably been some sort of mirage. I scrambled to my feet, brushing the hallway dust off my jeans. I realized I had made us both late for first-period science. Eric turned and headed down the hall, and I hurried after him and into the classroom.

  Mrs. Wilson glanced up from her podium in annoyance—it looked like everyone was already taking a quiz on the reading we’d done for homework. But then she saw it was perfect Eric walking in, and she smiled at him.

  When she saw me, she started to say my name—no doubt to ask me where I thought I’d been for the first three minutes of class. But Eric stopped her by saying, “Cecilia was just helping me. I dropped my books.” He zinged her with one of his I’m-so-awesome smiles.

  Ugh, how annoying. The rules just didn’t seem to apply to the Eric Chungs of the world.

  After hesitating for a few seconds, Mrs. Wilson nodded, though she didn’t exactly smile at me when she handed me my quiz.

  I slid into my seat in the back of the room. Mrs. Wilson had a seating chart, but somehow I’d gotten the seat I would have picked anyway.

  I started my quiz, and Eric, in the front, started his. His grade was probably going to be perfect, too. I realized then that in all the excitement of the fire and Potato and everything, I’d forgotten to read the homework chapters. So I made up answers and waited until Mrs. Wilson called for us to pass our papers up, drawing Potato’s little scrunched-up face in the margin and wishing the day would go faster so I could go see him.

  * * *

  As soon as eighth period ended, I dashed over to Orphan Paws, even though it was raining and I’d forgotten my umbrella. I headed straight for Potato, but he wasn’t in his crate. I felt an instant rush of panic. What if Lori had already adopted him out? He wasn’t ready, I was sure. His cuts couldn’t have healed that fast, and what about his ribs? If someone with little kids took him, they’d be sure to let him move around too much, and then …

  I walked out the back door and onto the small patio. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, and the rain had stopped. I let out a relieved breath when I saw Potato sitting on the pavement, his leash tethered to a stake in the nearby grass. He saw me, too, and started to jump. I sat down beside him quickly so he wouldn’t have to move too much. I picked him up and put him in
my lap, lowering my head to kiss his soft ears, feeling happy for the first time all day.

  After we sat in the watery sunshine for a long time, I picked him up and checked each of his injuries. I changed the bandage on his ear, and he licked my face while I tried to replace it with a fresh bandage. I was giggling and trying to avoid Potato’s wet tongue when Lori came in.

  “I see you found your patient,” she said, smiling. She was holding a clipboard. “We just got in a new litter this morning. Left outside a church down the block. Some kid gave us a tip-off.”

  “That’s nice.” I was gently brushing Potato’s back, one of the few spots with no injuries.

  “Cecilia! Five abandoned puppies isn’t a ‘that’s nice’ situation.”

  I frowned and looked up at her. “Not the abandoned part, of course. But puppies are always nice, is what I mean.”

  Lori sighed. “I suppose they are. Can you help me get them their shots? If you can tear yourself away from your buddy there for a few minutes, that is.”

  I petted Potato’s head and laughed. “Of course. I can stay as long as you want. And we get out of school early on Wednesday, so I can totally help with the adoption fair.”

  “Oh, great!” Lori exclaimed. But in the next moment her expression changed. “Cecilia—I want to tell you something. I worry about you. When I was your age, I used to go to the mall with my friends on early-dismissal days—not help out at adoption fairs with old ladies.”

  I rolled my eyes. Lori was far from being an old lady and she knew it. But she had a point about hanging out with friends. I twirled one of Potato’s ears, not looking up at her. I used to have someone to hang out with—Mel. But then she’d moved away.

  I guessed Lori understood even though I didn’t say anything. “Cecilia, when’s the last time you talked to someone other than Mel?” she asked me.

  My collision with the self-important Eric Chung floated through my brain. “It’s been a while,” I admitted.

  Lori shook her head. “I know the animals are easier. But you can’t go with them to the mall. You definitely can’t take them to a dance.”

  “I really wish you could,” I said wistfully.

  Lori threw up her hands. “I give up. I’ll bug you about this later. For now—puppies!” She headed back inside. I put Potato down and followed her.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I snuck back to check on the Tater in between weighing and bathing and shot-giving for the new batch of adorable little gray-and-black mutts.

  I’d planned ahead for when I had to leave Potato, with some chicken-flavored cookies in a plastic baggie. I broke two of them into smaller pieces and put them inside his crate to distract him while I left. I knew if I could give him a positive association to go along with my leaving that he’d handle it better.

  Then, with Potato happily munching away, I headed out the back door of Orphan Paws, still thinking a little about what Lori had said.

  The next day was Tuesday, and I missed going to Orphan Paws after school because I had to meet with my “team” to work on a project for our history class.

  Allie Cross, the best student in our grade, and also one of the most popular, appointed herself the unspoken team leader. Allie had perfectly wavy blond hair, and rumor had it that she and Eric Chung had dated last year. Allie existed, along with Eric, his twin sister, Lily, and other good-looking guys and girls, in a social circle I could never imagine being a part of. Not that I wanted to be a part of it or anything.

  Allie handed us all our assignments for the project, and I was supposed to write a section on the Dust Bowl. It didn’t sound very fun, but I wasn’t going to argue with Allie.

  When I got home, I started researching the Dust Bowl online and actually kind of got sucked in by what I read. Then I was surprised to hear the little Skype sound. I scrambled to click ACCEPT, and a few seconds later there was Mel waving at me from across the miles.

  I felt a rush of joy. It was great to see Mel again for the first time in what felt like forever. I missed how she always used big words—and her fashion sense. Not only could she pick the perfect clothes for her own petite, curly-haired self, she always helped me pick out the perfect shirt or earrings, too. Today she was wearing a sparkly blue top that made her eyes look an even brighter shade of blue.

  “C!” she cried. “I miss you! How’ve you been?” she asked.

  I told her the whole entire story of the fire, and she gasped and asked all the same questions everyone kept asking, which led to me explaining that it was something electrical, it was no one’s fault, and I had no idea when I’d be going home.

  “How could you not tell me any of this?” Mel asked, her voice going all high-pitched in her outrage.

  “It just happened!” I told her.

  “Well, you still should have called me.”

  And then again there was me explaining for the billionth time that I am practically the only kid in America without her own cell phone. “Besides,” I added, “I had to go to O.P. to help out after school, and there was this dog there, and he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen …”

  “Cecilia!” Mel rolled her big eyes. “Another dog? You’ve got to get out into the world of people. You’re turning into a hermit—not even calling your best friend when your house nearly burns down! You’re getting positively chelonian.”

  “Chelonian?”

  “Of or relating to turtles or tortoises,” Mel recited. “Or in other words, you. Always crawling back into your shell where nothing can hurt you.”

  “Geez, that’s very psychological. That fancy school might be ruining you.”

  Mel sniffed. “Not really. Compared to Pearson, everyone here is so snooty! I can’t go an entire day without someone scoffing at my PB&J, or asking whether or not I drink coconut water.” Her nose wrinkled. “But anyway, I’m really sorry about your house and all.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I know how your aunt drives you crazy.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, she’s kind of a lot. But at least we have a place to stay, I guess.”

  Before I could continue, Mel started to look distracted, as if someone was talking to her offscreen. “I’m sorry, C—I’ve gotta go. My parents are taking me to cheer practice. The big game is coming up so we’re nearly doubling our practice time.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying not to look disappointed. “I really miss you,” I added. My Skype sessions with Mel always felt way too short.

  “I miss you, too, Turtle,” Mel said.

  * * *

  Wednesday started out gray and cold, but by the time the early-release bell rang, the sun was shining.

  I raced the few blocks to The Legible Lion, the little bookstore on Vine Street where Lori always had her adoption fairs. Her best friend, Sally, owned the store, which sold used books, coffee, and really delicious baked goods. We used the little tables on the sidewalk to set up a few crates with the hopeful dogs, all cleaned up and groomed, in search of their forever homes. We had the gray-and-black puppies I took care of on Monday, along with the chocolate Lab mix and the black puggle. I was secretly glad that Lori had decided that Potato needed some more time with us before we tried to find him a home. He was at the shelter by himself at the moment, but Mitch promised he’d check in on him every hour or so while we were out. I suspected Lori was stalling adopting him out for me, in case my dad and I could go home soon (and in case after that I managed to get my dad to agree to let me have a dog).

  There were also two fluffy white cats; Lori usually specialized in dogs, but sometimes she made exceptions for other animals. After all, we were both suckers for a cute creature—no matter what kind.

  “Lori, have you ever had any turtles at the shelter?” I asked her, thinking of my conversation with Mel yesterday.

  “What?” Lori looked up from the notebook she was writing in. “Sorry! I’m just trying to work on the budget for next month. Would you mind going in and grabbing me an iced coffee from the café?” She handed me a five-dollar bill. “Get som
ething for yourself, too!”

  “Sure thing.” I rose from the lawn chair I’d been sitting in. The street was nearly empty. Lori probably didn’t even need me to help her today. I ordered an iced coffee for Lori and a lemonade for myself. As I waited for our drinks, I thought about sneaking back over to the shelter to spend some more time with Potato instead.

  I walked back out into the sunshine and handed Lori her drink, then took a big sip of my lemonade. Yum.

  A family—mom, dad, older girl, and little boy—had come by and they were asking Lori to show them one of the puppies. “I’ll get one out,” I told Lori, who smiled at me gratefully.

  I slipped a harness onto the sweetest of the five puppies, a little gray fellow I liked to call Oreo. Lori always told me not to name the dogs, but I never listened. Even if I never said their names out loud, I still thought of them using the names I came up with. In addition to Oreo, the other four puppies at the fair were: Peaches, Twinkie, Mallomar, and Coconut (“Coco” for short). All in my head, of course. Clearly, I have a thing for food-themed names.

  The little girl snuggled Oreo against her and squealed happily, but when it was her brother’s turn, the boy recoiled in fear, even though Oreo was just wriggling playfully in excitement. And just like that, Oreo lost his chance at a family. They wandered off a few moments later. The mom thanked me, but the dad just looked relieved.

  I held Oreo as I watched them go. No matter how many times I’d seen it happen, I still felt an ache for the poor orphan pup who’d just come so close to getting a home.

  “I’m sorry, big guy,” I told Oreo, kissing him on the top of his head and getting a big sloppy lick on my cheek in return. Instead of putting Oreo back in the big crate with his brothers and sisters, I carried him in and sat down inside the crate and let them all scramble over me. I giggled as all five tried to jump into my lap at the same time. I forgot all my troubles for a few minutes as I played with the puppies in the sunshine.

  A shadow fell over us, and I looked up.

  Eric Chung was looking down at me. I couldn’t make out the expression on his face.