Beside

27 - expectation

"Something bad happened. Real bad."

"What?"

"It's Gwen. The house... the house caught on fire, and she... she was stuck inside."

"What?!—"

"They had to take her to the hospital. She was crying, and I couldn't do anything. I couldn't get to her. They wouldn't let me in. Faro was screaming."

"But... What?"

"I smelled smoke but I wasn't even away from the bus stop yet so I ran and everything was orange and hot. I couldn't find her. She wasn't on the bus. I didn't know. And then she was screaming but she was trapped inside and upstairs. Her room's up there, you know? And Faro was trying to go in but they wouldn't let him."

"But... but the firemen came, right?"

"Jellybean, our house is gone. Dad took us to a hotel. Mom won't talk to anybody anymore. I'm scared."

"Okay, um... She's at the hospital, and they're gonna make her better. They have to."

"But she was crying. And her skin was all black. I didn't save her. I was supposed to save her! I promised! What if she's mad? What if she thinks it's my fault?"

"Fox—"

"What if she doesn't come home? What if she doesn't get better? I don't know what to do."

"We can think about it at recess. We'll make a plan. Cross my heart."

ᖴO᙭

I don't much care for dog parks, but Charlie loves them. Not the other dogs—just the space, the track that runs through a small pine forest, the benches shaped like big white bones. He's happy keeping to himself, happy just to move.

We stroll through the trees, Charlie trotting at my side, ears perked, alert. There are plenty of other dogs around—yapping, barking, all too friendly—but Charlie ignores them, focused. A terrier in his prime, even at ten years old. I think back to—

I get a smack in the back of the head. Fucking fuck.

Cam whooshes past me, laughing like a maniac in those obnoxiously bright pink sweats and a hoodie. Every two minutes, without fail, she's been running her laps, slapping the back of my head, cackling like she's just pulled off the prank of the century.

"Still slow as hell, Weber!" she shouts on this last pass, her laughter trailing around a corner before I can even flip her off.

Charlie glances up at me, like he's asking what the hell's wrong with his mom. I shrug. "You tell me, buddy."

We're rounding another tree when I spot someone approaching—blonde hair falling over a tight red top, dark shorts on long legs, and cat-like eyes. Beautiful in a way that seems deliberate, practiced in a mirror before stepping outside.

"Hey, is that your dog?" she asks, stopping just a few feet away, her voice a little too husky for a bright afternoon.

I look down at Charlie. He's already sitting at my side since we've stopped, eyeing this girl's golden retriever with barely contained disdain. "Yeah. This is Charlie."