“I don’t need a teacher.”
“Oh.”
“I can get around fine. I can see fine.”
“Well, sure, maybe for now,” Beth said as she switched on the windshield wipers. It had started raining. Because the day wasn’t awful enough, I guess. “But, Hadley, it’s going to get worse, and it can’t hurt to be prepared. Learning some new things might even be fun. You might make new friends.”
“Not interested.”
“Okay,” she said, with a tone that told me I was clearly testing her patience. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want. But it’s something to think about. I just … I wanna be helpful.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want her bringing it up, either. What did she know about how much I could see or what was good for me? Nothing. She didn’t know nothing.
That sure didn’t stop her from trying, though. We’d gotten to her house that afternoon, and I’d pretty much been shut up in her guest bedroom ever since.
She’d tried to get me to unpack.
“It’ll make you feel more at home, Hadley.”
She’d tried to get me to eat more.
“You’ll feel better with a full stomach, Hadley.”
She’d tried to get me to go outside and help her with her flower garden.
“We could all use some fresh air sometimes, Hadley.”
It’s been two weeks, and my stupid sister refuses to just leave me alone. All I wanna do is stay in bed watching YouTube videos on my phone, texting my friends back in Tennessee, and eating potato chips. But instead, she insists on dragging me all over this new town with her.
“It’s okay to be angry and upset,” she told me a few days ago. “You’ve got every right to be. But this isn’t healthy, Hadley. I’m worried about you. We gotta find something—something you enjoy. Something that’ll help you cope with being here.”
I ain’t so sure Lila is exactly what she meant.
“Well, this sure is a surprise.”
I jump, startled by the voice behind me, and snatch my hand away from the dog I’m petting. It seems startled, too, but probably more because of my sudden movement than anything, and it scurries back, moving toward the other end of its kennel.
I turn around to see who’s rude enough to come up and scare me like that, and I find myself looking up at a tall, pretty black woman, who I guess to be in her midtwenties, around the same age as Beth. She’s dressed in a short-sleeved, navy-blue button-down shirt and khaki shorts, and her dark, curly hair is pulled back. She smiles down at me, all warm and friendly like. “Sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Well, you did,” I snap, folding my arms tight over my chest.
“How’d you get Lila to come to you?”
“Who?”
She nods to the kennel at my back. “The dog. How’d you get her to come over and let you pet her?”
I shrug. “Dunno. I held my hand out and she just … came over. Why? What’s it matter?”
“Interesting.” The woman steps closer, looking past me and into the pen. “I’ve never seen her do that before. Lila’s been here for months, and most days we can barely get her to look at us, let alone come to us.”
Slowly, I turn around to look back into the kennel. Lila has retreated into the corner, where she’s already curled up, facing the wall, sure enough. “I didn’t do anything special,” I say. “Promise.”
“You must just have the magic touch,” she says, smiling at me again. “What’s your name, by the way? Are you one of the youth volunteers? I haven’t seen you before.”
I shake my head. “Uh-uh. My name’s Hadley. I’m—”
“Oh!” the woman says, and her smile gets even bigger, if that’s possible. “You’re Beth’s sister. That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
But before she can answer, there’s the sound of a heavy door creaking open and thudding closed, and Beth’s voice echoes over the sound of barking dogs as she calls out, “Hadley? You in here? We can go ahead and go. I can’t find …” She trails off just as her footsteps round the corner, into the main strip of kennels where the tall woman and I are standing. “Oh, Vanessa, there you are. I was looking for you.”
“Well, you found me,” the tall woman—Vanessa, I suppose—says, and now she turns that big smile on Beth.
Beth giggles. It’s a nervous, quiet giggle, and she ducks her head away. I can’t quite tell from this distance, but I’d wager her cheeks are burning pink, too.
“Looks like your sister inherited your skill with dogs,” Vanessa tells Beth.
Beth clears her throat before replying. “That so? Hadley told me she wasn’t a dog person.”
“I’m not,” I mutter.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Vanessa says. “She got Lila to come to her. I watched it happen. Lila walked right up to the edge of the kennel and let Hadley pet her.”
“Are you serious?” Beth starts moving toward us now, toward Lila’s kennel. Inside, the pit bull still ain’t moved. It’s like she’s trying real hard to ignore us. Can’t say I blame her. I know it ain’t fun, hearing people talk about you like that, like you’re not even there. Beth doesn’t seem all too concerned about this, though. “You’re sure? Lila? How?”
“Positive. And no idea how. I asked, but Hadley says she … held out a hand. Lila must just like her more than the rest of us.”
“She must,” Beth murmurs. “You ought to be flattered, Hadley. Lila doesn’t seem to like anybody.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze, but I jerk away and put a big step between us.
“It ain’t a big deal,” I say. “It’s just a dog.”
There’s a long pause, where nobody speaks, and even the other dogs’ barking seems to quiet a little bit. Finally, though, Vanessa says, “Hadley?”
I look over my shoulder at her. “What?”
“Forgive me. I wasn’t being very polite. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Vanessa Truchet. I run Right Choice Rescue.”
“Yeah. Kinda figured.”
“Hadley,” Beth hisses. “Don’t be rude.”
But Vanessa just keeps beaming at me. Does this woman ever not smile? I feel like smiling so big like that would make my cheeks hurt. “I might be overstepping here,” she says, “but I have an idea. I think you should take Lila.”
“What?!”
The word pops out of Beth’s and my mouths at the same time—with the same sound of disbelief.
“Vanessa,” Beth says, “you know I can’t adopt a dog right now. I’m already so busy with work. And now with Hadley here, money is going to be tight. I can’t afford a new dog.”
“Not adopt Lila,” Vanessa clarifies. “Foster her.”
“Foster?” I ask.
“Yes,” Vanessa says. “Lila would come home with you and Beth, but it’s just temporary. The rescue will keep paying for all her food and medical expenses, if they come up. Except she’ll get to live with you, and you can train her.”
“Train her?” Vanessa has to be out of her mind. “I ain’t got a clue how to train dogs.”
“Lucky for you, you’ve got a sister who’s real good at it.”
“I don’t know, Vanessa,” Beth says. “I’ve been working on training Lila since she got here, and she’s not responsive. Just because she came to Hadley one time doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”
“You might be right,” Vanessa admits. “But that’s more interest than she’s shown in any of us in months. And if Lila does like Hadley, she’s got a better shot at breaking through than we do. If Hadley can get her trained, socialized a bit, then maybe we can even get Lila adopted. She’s clearly miserable here. But we can’t adopt her out until she’s got at least basic training and is a little friendlier. Besides …” I watch her make eye contact with Beth. “It’ll give Hadley a nice project for the summer.”
I hate the way they look at each other, that meaningful pause that passe
s between them. It makes it real clear they’ve been talking about me. Beth has probably told Vanessa all about how she can hardly get me to leave my room most days. How I’m mean and angry, and how she’s worried about me and my health, or whatever.
And now Vanessa is in on it, too. Trying to fix me when I don’t wanna be fixed.
“You might … have a point,” Beth says.
“Y’all gotta be kidding me,” I snap. “Beth, I keep telling you, I ain’t a dog person! I don’t wanna do this.”
Even as I say the words, though, I catch myself turning to look at Lila again. And I can’t shake that feeling I had when I first saw her. That pull that got me to crouch down and offer my hand. Maybe I ain’t a dog person, but it sure sounds like Lila ain’t a people dog, neither. For some reason, though, we’d reached out to each other.
And apparently that’s enough for Vanessa and Beth, who are already talking out the details and hunting down a crate for us to take Lila home in. They walk off, telling me they’ll be back in a few minutes. I sigh and sit down on the concrete floor, looking through the kennel’s bars at Lila.
“Can you believe this?” I ask her.
She shifts a little, moving so she ain’t facing the wall no more but instead has her head half turned in my direction.
“Looks like we’re gonna be stuck together. I warn you, I don’t think I’m real good company these days, but … at least you won’t be here, I guess.”
Lila takes a breath and lets it out like a sigh.
“Yeah, that’s how I feel,” I tell her. “Oh well. I guess we can be miserable together.”
Ten minutes later, Vanessa and Beth are loading Lila’s crate into the back seat of the little car. They’d made me lure her into the box because she wouldn’t respond to either of them. And even with me, she hadn’t seemed too willing. But they’d given me treats, and I’d managed to coax her inside. Vanessa helps Beth lift the heavy box and scoot it across the seat before shutting the back door.
“We can give it a couple weeks,” she tells Beth and me. “If it seems like it won’t work, at least we’ll know. But I think this might be the perfect solution for everybody.”
“We’ll see,” Beth says. “I’m still a bit skeptical. But if it can give Hadley a nice project and …”
I grunt and storm off, tired of hearing them talk about me. I climb into the passenger seat and slam the door. Through the window, I can see them still chatting for a minute. Then Vanessa gives Beth a quick hug and heads back inside.
Beth just stands there for a minute, watching her go, before walking to the driver’s door and getting into the car. “Well,” she says, “this sure isn’t how I expected today to go.”
I ignore her and instead stare out my own window.
Beth sighs. “All right. Hadley, Lila … let’s go home.”
“I already told you no.”
I put my hand on Lila’s furry white chest and push. Her front paws, which had been on the edge of the bed, slide backward, and she lowers herself to the ground with a little huff of annoyance.
“Don’t blame me,” I say, flopping onto the pillows. “Beth’s the one who says you ain’t allowed on the furniture.”
Lila gives a quiet whine and puts her head on the mattress, ears tucked back and big eyes staring at me. It’s like she knows how pathetic she can look, and that I ain’t blind enough yet to resist.
“Oh, all right,” I say, scooting over a bit to make room as Lila clambers up onto the bed next to me. “But if Beth asks, it ain’t my fault. Not that she ought to care. She says I gotta make myself at home here, and if that’s the case, this is my bed now. She don’t get a say if you get up here or not.”
Lila drops her chin onto the pillow next to my head. She doesn’t look at me anymore, though. Just stares at the wall. She does that a lot, I’ve noticed. Since we brought her here a few days ago, she ain’t done much besides lay around the house, staring at nothing, looking sad. Which is pretty much what I do, too, I guess. So at least I have company for it.
I reach out and start to stroke the back of her head and neck. She don’t really respond when I do this, but she lets me. Not Beth, though. Any time she’s tried to touch Lila, the dog’s turned and scurried off in another direction. Not like she’s scared of her. More like she just don’t want a thing to do with her. I think Vanessa was right. I should feel flattered Lila likes me. Even if I ain’t sure why she does.
My phone buzzes, and I gotta root around beneath the covers to find it. When I do, I see it’s a notification—my friend Joey has tagged me in a picture he posted. He and my other best friend, Maya, are in Gatlinburg. Joey’s parents take an overnight trip there every summer and always let Joey bring along two friends.
I’m supposed to be there right now.
babykangaroo42: Me and @MayaFairLady about to go shopping in Gatlinburg! So glad I saved up my birthday money. Wish you were here, @Hadleybean13. We miss you!
I know I ought to type a response—tell them to have fun, tell them I miss them, too—but instead I just push my phone away and bury my face in the pillow.
I ain’t talked to Joey or Maya since I left Tennessee. When I told them I was moving away and wouldn’t be there all summer—or even be starting school with them again in August—they’d wanted to know why. And, truth is, I was way too embarrassed to tell them the real reason. It was bad enough I knew what Mama had done. I didn’t want them knowing, either.
So I’d told them Mama got a new job and we were moving to be closer to my sister. And I hadn’t elaborated any more than that.
They’ve been texting me almost every day. And sometimes I’ll reply with a smiley face or a heart emoji or something. Just enough so they don’t think I’m ignoring them but so I don’t gotta answer, either.
I miss them a whole lot, and I’m still mad as a hornet that I ain’t with them right now. But I feel like talking to them will just make me feel worse. Because they’ll ask me all kinds of questions—about my new town and if I’ve made any friends or where I’ll be going to school. And I don’t wanna tell them the truth. That I’m miserable and scared. That seeing their pictures just makes me sad. That I’m worried I won’t make any new friends. Or that, even when Mama gets out of jail, I ain’t sure what will happen. Because we don’t have our house anymore. And I don’t trust Mama now. And everything is gonna be different and …
I bite down on my lip and squeeze my eyes shut. I ain’t gonna cry. Nope. Not gonna think about any of that anymore.
Through the wall, I hear the front door open and Beth’s muffled voice as she chats with Mrs. McGraw, the annoying older lady next door who’s been staying here with me while Beth’s at work. Even though I’m twelve and really don’t need a babysitter.
I still don’t have a real grasp on Beth’s work schedule. She always leaves around nine in the morning, but some days she’s home by midafternoon and others she ain’t back until nearly dinnertime. I don’t bother asking her about it, though. I don’t want her to think I’m interested.
A second later, I hear the front door close again and Beth hollers, “Hadley, I’m back from work! I bought takeout for dinner.”
I don’t answer. I don’t gotta. I know she’ll just walk on in here. Beth, I’ve learned, ain’t much of a knocker.
Sure enough, I hear the doorknob jiggle, and my older sister steps into the guest room she’s been calling mine since I arrived. She stands in the doorway for a second, then sighs real loud.
“I thought I said she couldn’t get on the furniture.”
“I told her that,” I say, my voice still muffled by the pillow. Reluctantly, I roll over so I can look at Beth. “But she didn’t listen. Besides, it’s my bed. She can be up here if she wants.”
“She didn’t listen because she’s not trained,” Beth reminds me. “Which is what you’re supposed to be working on. Have you even been out of bed today, Hadley?”
“Yeah. Of course I have.”
It’s true. Kinda. I did get o
ut of bed a couple times. Once when Mrs. McGraw knocked on the door about half an hour after Beth left for work. I’d intended to let her inside and then go straight back to bed, but Mrs. McGraw insisted on making me breakfast, telling me I was too skinny and asking me a million questions about how I was liking my new neighborhood.
Lila had stayed in my room the whole time. I was jealous. It was easy to be antisocial when you had four legs and couldn’t speak. I’d gone back to bed after eating, though, so she didn’t get my room to herself for long.
The other times I’d gotten up were to take Lila out into Beth’s backyard so she could do her business. I thought that’d be a little harder—talking her into peeing outside—but she did it right away. If I bothered with this training thing, at least housebreaking her would be easy. Even if it did mean picking up her poo with a plastic bag. Ick.
Beth clucks her tongue like she don’t believe me, but she changes the subject. “You got a letter in the mail today.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out something small and white. “It’s from Mama.” She takes a step closer to the bed, stretching her arm out, making to hand me the envelope.
I don’t take it, though.
After a long moment, she lowers her hand. “Do you want me to read it to you? I don’t know how well you can see to read—”
“I can read fine,” I snap, even though that ain’t exactly true. I can read—I’ve just gotten real slow. My field of vision has gotten narrow enough that I can only focus on one or two words at a time. Meaning it takes me forever to read even a page. But I’m sure as heck not telling Beth that.
“Oh … Sorry. I wasn’t sure.”
“I just don’t wanna read it,” I say. “Throw it out.”
“Hadley …”
“And when she calls tonight, I don’t wanna talk to her then, either. Or ever. So don’t bother asking.”
“Hadley.”
“What?” I demand. My voice is getting too loud, because Lila lets out a grumble before climbing off the bed and moving to the corner of the room. “I don’t gotta read it if I don’t want. And you can’t make me talk to her. You ain’t one to judge anyway. You don’t even like Mama.”
Lila and Hadley Page 2