Immortal Max (21 page)

“Dumb old dog.” I rub his head.

My body feels empty, like some monster leech has sucked the energy out of it. Dropping down on the ground, I lean against the barn. Exhausted. Max drops down beside me, grunting like dogs do when they're with their owner. Their alpha person.

I push stringy hair away and look into chestnut-brown eyes. He's here for me. He's
always
been here for me. Waiting.

“I'm sorry, Max.”

I know he's just a dog, but a part of me believes Max understands.

“Finally, good and dry. At least these hot days were good for something.”

Mom helps me carry my mattress upstairs. A week has gone by since I lost my job, and I'm still sleeping outside. Chief Beaumont mailed the rest of my pay, but I haven't heard from any of my customers. I wasn't expecting to, really. Like the chief said, word gets around. They know I had a part in Bruno's death. I've been helping in the plant shed a lot because Mom checks on Grandma every day now. She had to be moved to a place that provides full-time care. I don't mind. I'm glad to have something to do.

Mom stretches sheets over the mattress and hands me a clean pillowcase. “Change out your pillowcase and you're all set.” She smiles. “Bet you're anxious to get back to your own bed.”

“Well, see, I'm going to sleep in the tent awhile longer. But thanks for the clean pillowcase. The other one is smelling pretty doggy.”

Mom frowns. “Do we need to talk about something, Sammy? This isn't like you. What is it?”

“No, it's nothing. I, uh, I just like sleeping in the tent.” I get the Mom look. Mouth a straight line. Eyes frozen in a stare. “It's—it's just that Beth will be taking the tent with her to Colorado, so this is my last chance.”

“It's the puppy, isn't it? I know you had your heart set on buying it this summer.” She blinks. “I still don't understand why it was so important to buy it now, but—”

“Nothing's wrong, Mom. Okay?”

She doesn't budge. Time for a diversion.

“Gotta get to the kitchen. My turn to help with supper. I'm, uh, I'm making a special dessert I learned from one of my customers at CountryWood.”

“Dessert? But it's too hot to use the oven.”

“Don't need to.”

She smiles again. “I can hardly wait.”

I hurry downstairs, hoping what I need is in the pantry and freezer.

Thank you, Mrs. Callahan!

Dessert is a huge hit. I explain that it's a traditional Irish dessert. Mom says she's going to keep ice cream and apple jelly around all the time. It's fun, laughing with Mom, Beth, and Rosie. But then they start talking about the things they're doing.

Moving to Colorado.

Entering the beauty pageant.

Making a big sale.

I can't wait to get away. Max greets me at the tent, tongue drooping a foot. Though daytime temperatures have dipped, it's still hot for late June. I change my pillowcase and crawl inside.

The night is peaceful. Crickets and frogs singing their night songs. Owls
swoosh
ing through the trees. Clouds playing tag with the moon. Max snoring.

I breath in deep. Exhale slowly. In time, darkness erases everything on my mental whiteboard.

Sleeping bag a sleeping bag.

Max's growl jolts me awake. He's at the door of the tent, trying to push through the mosquito netting. Then I smell it. Musk. The smell of a wild animal.

I grab the flashlight and my ball bat, unzip the door. Max knocks the flashlight and bat out of my hands. In the darkness, I can't find either one. But I don't need the flashlight to see what's happening. In the dim light, eyes are glowing.
Lots
of eyes.

I identify four sets of eyes surrounding us, four ringed tails shining in the moonlight. The marauding raccoons are back.

Birdie is awake, too. I can hear her in the nest, pushing four cheeping baby birds under her body for protection. Raccoons eat all kinds of things. Roots. Garbage. Pet food. Small mammals. Birds.

“Go away! Get back!”
I run back and forth, waving my arms and yelling. Max barks, running at one raccoon, then another. Stopping to catch my breath, I see a huge set of eyes on one side of me, three smaller sets on the other. And then the huge set starts to get bigger. And bigger.

“Aww, man.”

I've gotten between the mother raccoon and her babies. A stupid thing to do. A mother raccoon—any animal mother—is very protective of her young.

I run.

The raccoon is huge. Its gigantic shadow chases me, a shadow that's attached to a ring-tailed ball of claws and teeth. Then a bigger shadow runs it to the ground, a ferocious monster dog. Max snaps at the mother raccoon's tail until it runs off, the three smaller raccoons racing after it.

And just like that, the night is peaceful again.

“Woohoo!”
I yell like a crazy person and do an Indian dance around the yard. “Max the warrior dog to the rescue! He saved us from the evil Fenrir!”

Max jumps around, too. Barking like he's gone mad.

“Sammy Smith—what is going on out here?” Mom stands at the corner of the barn, hands on hips. Beth is behind her, rubbing her eyes. “That yelling would wake the dead.”

“The raccoons—Max chased off the raccoons.”

“Cool.”
Beth raises a high five in my direction. “Going back to bed now. . . .” She retreats into the shadows.

“That's good, Sammy.” Mom's tolerant face makes a showing. Soft. Smiling. “But it's time you moved back into the house. You're wrecking my sleep. Now get your pillow and follow me.”

“No.”

“What?” Mom's angry face emerges. A traffic light, blinking red.

“What I mean is, I need to stay awhile longer.” I'm not sure why, I just know I do. “Please, Mom. Just until Birdie's babies fly. Those raccoons might come back. I . . . I don't want to abandon her.”

Mom sags, her exhausted face showing. “I swear, Sammy Smith. I don't know what's come over you this summer.” She disappears around the barn, shaking her head.

I look at Max, who's taken up his post in front of Birdie's nest. Sitting erect. Shaggy mane encircling his neck. A stone lion.

“You're a warrior dog, Max.” I pull him close and give him a hug. “A
real
hero.”

We crawl back inside the tent. The battle won, we stretch out on a bed of goose down. The night erupts again. Frogs and crickets. Night birds. A noisy riot of sound. But Max and I don't care.

Sleeping bag a victory robe.

It's the last Tuesday in June, and I'm sitting on Bailey's front porch. Minus Rosie. She and Mom went to Walmart to buy shoes for the pageant. Mootsies Tootsies for girls, white patent leather, on sale for $29.99. Plus tax. I was invited to go but declined. Big surprise.

I'm watching the cheer team do a new cheer, one cheerleaders did at the school Anise went to in the burbs.

“Bang bang choo-choo train,

Come on, girls, let's do this thang.

I can't. Why not?

I can't. Why not?

'Cause my back is aching,

And my bra's too tight,

And my body's shaking,

From the left to the right,

And my mama said my pants are too tight,

But my boyfriend said they fit just right.”

When they finish, they fall on the ground, a pile of giggles. I shake my head, smothering a grin.

They're going to get into so much trouble in middle school. . . .

Bailey doesn't do the fake fat-girl thing anymore. She's just a regular girl. But some of her fashion sense has rubbed off on Anise and Yee. They both wear tie-dyed tees now and Converse shoes. Anise's are Chuck Taylor Thundercats. Yee's have Wonder Woman on them.

Yee sits down next to me, hair pulled back in a ponytail that swings when she talks. “They're building the dog park this weekend.”

“I heard.” Rosie gave me that news already. It seems Justin's mother needed more petunias, and Patty told Rosie. Of course.

“I figured you'd heard. The news about Bruno and your job is all over CountryWood.”

I look at her. “So why'd you bring it up?”

“Because Anise and I organized a bunch of kids to help. Chief Beaumont's telling everyone the park was your idea, so I was hoping you would come. Bailey's biking out. We're getting her a gate pass so she can get in. She's going to meet up with us tomorrow about one o'clock.”

Bailey's dream has come true. She gets to go to Country-Wood.

“That's great. That you're inviting Bailey, I mean.” I stare at the ground like grass and dirt are the most fascinating things on the planet. Flick a pebble across the yard. Mumble, “I feel bad about Bruno.”

“Yeah.” Yee puts her hand on my arm. “Does it mean you won't get your dog? You know, because your job is over?”

“Sort of.”

“Sorry.”

I look at Yee's hand. At the color going up her neck to her cheeks. And grin.

She takes her hand away. “Hey, want to go to a movie this weekend?” Her ponytail flips. Her eyes laugh. “It's a sci-fi movie about big blue people with long cat tails that live on another planet. I could meet you down on the square. Anise is calling Gary, you know, that Townie who sat next to her in class. And Bailey's asking someone, too.”

My heart thumps. “Sid?”

“No. She asked him first, but he can't. He's busy with this pageant thing.”

I'm disappointed. I'd really like to see Sid.

“Well, I
would
like to see that movie.” I retie shoelaces that
don't need retying. Suck on a blade of grass. Say, “Yeah, I'd like to help with the dog park. It's the right thing to do. You know, for everybody.”

“I'll let you know when the movie starts. You set it up with your mom to give you a ride to the Rialto.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I give her a salute.

She pretends to sneer and rejoins Anise and Bailey. A minute later, the shock wave hits.

Did I just make a date with a girl?

Bailey and I bike over to CountryWood the next afternoon to help with the dog run. She's dressed to impress. Retro plaid shorts she found at the Salvation Army store. A green shirt covered in eyes she drew with felt-tip markers, the letters
I C U
across the front. She's a chatterbox on the way, all excited about getting inside CountryWood. But once inside, she clams up. Mouth hermetically sealed.

I glance at her. “What is it?”

“I don't know.” She eyes the bald yards and Lego houses. “Guess I just expected . . . 
more
.”

I just grin.

All kinds of people are at the corner lot where I walked the four dogs. Mr. P, Mrs. Callahan, and Professor Muller are sitting together in folding chairs under one of the trees. Mr. P and Mrs. Callahan brought refreshments for everyone. Greek shortbread cookies and Emerald Isle Tea.

“Sammy
 . . .” Mr. P. smiles when I walk up. “Come, you eat.” He hands me two cookies.

“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Callahan says, pushing a paper cup into my hand. “I'm so glad you could come.”

I introduce Bailey to them, and she gets treats, too. She whispers, “It would be rude to refuse,” to me as she accepts the cookies. I just grin. Some days are meant for celebrating, not dieting.

“Look . . .” Mr. P waves a hand toward the new dog park. “You see what you did, Sammy? The chief, he tells everyone it is your idea.”

“Yes, it's thanks to you that we have this wonderful new place.” Mrs. Callahan refills Bailey's and my cups with Emerald Isle Tea, which tastes like limeade. “And Mr. Muller is donating a park bench so we can sit and watch our dogs play together.”

Professor Muller's knee is better. I learn that Mr. P is cleaning up his yard until his knee is fully healed and driving both Siegfried and Mrs. Callahan's dogs to the corner lot with Apollo to exercise.