Release

by Aly Martinez

  The side of his mouth hiked adorably—I mean, annoyingly. Totally annoying.

  “Psh, yeah right. That’s your job. I’m not that bored,” I lied. I was actually bored out of my freaking mind. I still had six more weeks until my cast came off. And just the thought of spending those days locked inside The House of Despair made me panic anytime I thought about it.

  “Yeah, right,” he mumbled, clearing the hair from his eyes with one of those twitches that had long since become involuntary.

  We started toward my house, and as usual, Ramsey walked in the grass so I could have the sidewalk to myself.

  “So if it was your dog, how’d it get to the school soccer field?”

  “Well, I only said he was my dog now. Not that he was my dog at the time. Animal control showed up, but it took off into the woods. The dog bit Josh Caskey. He deserved a medal of honor, not the gas chamber. So yesterday, while you were being lame hiding out in your house, I grabbed some meat and rode my bike out there to find him. Poor thing was scared to death. But nothing bologna couldn’t cure. You wanna come over and see him?”

  I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was the old adage that time healed all wounds. Or maybe it was that I’d always wanted a dog but my mom had been allergic. Whatever it was, for the first time in as long as I could remember, a spark of excitement ignited inside me.

  It was small.

  But I felt it, and after months of pain spiraling like a tornado inside me, I was willing to do whatever I had to do to hold on to it. Even if that meant voluntarily spending time with Ramsey.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  His smile nearly blinded me. “Yeah?”

  I nodded, and he wasted not a single second with further conversation. At a dead sprint, he ran straight to his small, brick ranch, our book bags bouncing on his shoulders.

  A little girl filled Ramsey’s empty spot beside me as I continued to hobble down the sidewalk.

  God, she looked so much like him that it was almost scary. But where Ramsey was tall and rugged, Nora was petite and beautiful. She didn’t wear dresses or lip gloss, but there was something inherently feminine about her even in dirty jeans and scuffed sneakers. She was two years younger than we were, but wherever Ramsey went, she was usually only a few steps away. This included when he’d built a shoddy ramp out of two concrete bricks and a piece of plywood about as sturdy as a spider’s web. She’d gotten one jump off that thing before it’d broken and caused her to crash, skin her elbows, and pop her chain. She’d cried and cried as Ramsey tried to fix her bike. But even from my vantage point of the living room window, I’d known that it was a lost cause.

  I was all too aware that not having a bike sucked. So that night, after everyone had gone inside, I hopped over, nearly breaking my neck twice to leave my bike on their front porch. I made sure to leave a note that read loaner taped to the handle bars. It was going to be months before I could ride again. Someone should get some use out of it.

  Ramsey tried to thank me seven hundred times the next day. I’d snapped at him to shut up.

  He’d smiled.

  I’d hit him with my crutch.

  And then he’d started talking about something dumb and I’d gone right back to ignoring him.

  Business as usual.

  I’d seen Nora countless times, but in all the weeks Ramsey had been making my ears bleed with his motor mouth, she’d never spoken to me. Until then.

  “What was that about?” she asked, her eyes glued to her brother’s back as he raced to their house.

  I glanced around to make sure she was actually talking to me before I replied, “Ramsey’s going to show me the dog he got yesterday.”

  Just like her freaking brother, her whole face lit. “Bologna? He’s so cute.”

  “He named the dog Bologna?”

  “Yep. I tried to get him to name it Oscar like Oscar Mayer, but he said no. Besides, he’s brown, weird, and nobody wanted him, so I guess Bologna kinda fits.” She giggled musically, and for a moment, I was jealous that she still had the ability to laugh.

  I’d long since lost mine.

  When we got to their driveway, Ramsey came running out with a dog that came up to his knees on a leash. Well, it looked like a leash. When he reached Nora and me, I realized it was one of his father’s belts looped around the dog’s neck.

  Nora had been right; the dog was brown and weird. His snout was short like maybe he had some kind of bulldog in his bloodlines, but his legs were long, and his ears stood on end. It was as if the day he’d been created, God had been cleaning the spare parts off his workbench. He was easily the ugliest dog I had ever seen. But that was exactly what made him so dang cute.

  “Bologna, meet Sparrow. Sparrow, meet Bologna.”

  “Don’t call me Sparrow. And don’t call him Bologna. That’s a terrible name.” I eased myself down to sit on the curb.

  “What would you name him, then?”

  I studied the dog for a second. Crap. Bologna did suit him. “Whatever. He’s your dog. Name him whatever you want.”

  The dog inched toward me. I didn’t know much about animals, but the tuck of his tail between his legs couldn’t have been a good sign.

  “You sure he’s not going to bite my face off like he did Josh?”

  Ramsey sat beside me. “Nah. He prefers legs and good news yours is already covered in plaster. I think you’re safe.”

  I shot him a scowl that only made his perma-grin spread, and if I was being totally honest, it made the warmth in my chest spread as well.

  “Here,” he said, pulling a wad of lunch meat from his pocket. “Feed him this and you’ll be his new best friend.”

  “First gum and now meat. What else do you keep in those pockets?”

  He laughed. “Depends on the day. Play your cards right and I might smuggle you candy into class tomorrow.”

  “Oh goodie, bologna-flavored Skittles. I can’t wait.” I tore off a piece of the meat and offered it toward the dog.

  Sure enough his tail started wagging immediately. He was a gentle guy, nibbling rather than snatching the treat from my hand. Ramsey eventually dropped the belt, convinced he wasn’t going to run off. The dog sat there patiently until every morsel of the meat was gone. And when he was absolutely positive Ramsey wasn’t going to produce any more, he flopped down between us and put his head in my lap.

  His hair was coarse and scratchy against my skin, but I pet him for at least a half hour.

  And for a solid half hour, I didn’t think about my mother.

  Or my leg.

  Or my father.

  Or my broken heart hanging by a thread inside my chest.

  I just sat there. Ignoring my watch, petting the dog, and pretending everything was okay.

  At some point, Nora got bored of her brother’s ramblings—a sentiment I shared the majority of the time—and went inside. In the miracle of all miracles, Ramsey didn’t transfer his rampant need to hear his own voice to me. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t say a word for a long while.

  Cars sped by and kids rode bikes past us, attempting to strike up conversation with Ramsey, but he simply lifted his hand in a wave that served as both a greeting and a dismissal.

  Together, we sat on that curb as the entire world carried on around us, but for the first time in months, the loneliness wasn’t killing me.

  Because he was there.

  Ramsey was always there.

  “He’s adorable,” I finally whispered, opening what would surely be the floodgates to a conversation.

  “You look happy,” Ramsey said, giving the dog’s back a scratch. “You’re pretty when you smile.”

  My head snapped up almost as quickly as my cheeks heated. It felt amazing. All of it. The dog. The fact that Ramsey thought I was pretty. The fact that I did still have facial muscles that would allow me to smile.

  But I was ten, claiming to be miserable, and the boy that I told myself I hated had just called me prett
y. I couldn’t let that one slide.

  I punched him in the shoulder. “What the heck is wrong with you?”

  Bologna curiously lifted his head, and stupid, stupid beautiful Ramsey just grinned.

  Feigning innocence, he laughed, “What?”

  “Don’t tell me I’m pretty!”

  “Why not? You are.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Fine. You’re a troll. Happy now?”

  I punched him again. “I’m not a troll!”

  He fell over to the side, laughing. And if that wasn’t annoying enough, Bologna moved out of my lap to lick his face.

  I patted my lap and Bologna came back to me, settling at my side. Ignoring his owner, I scratched between his ears and imagined kicking Josh Caskey in the stomach for what he’d done to that sweet puppy.

  “I was just trying to say something nice, ya know. You don’t have to get all mad about it.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  He rubbed his shoulder. “You could have fooled me. You always seem to be so cranky.”

  “I’m not cranky,” I mumbled, keeping my gaze locked on Bologna.

  He bumped me with his shoulder and I swear I felt a chill down my spine. “Well, not right now you’re not. But usually—”

  “I’m not cranky,” I snapped.

  “Right. Of course not. Totally not cranky.” He pushed to his feet and a blast of dread nearly knocked me over.

  Not yet. Don’t go. Please don’t make me go home.

  “I need to go in and get Nora something to eat.” He grabbed the belt and looped it around Bologna’s neck.

  “Yeah. Okay. I should go anyway.” The empty house might get worried or something, I added in my head.

  In true Ramsey fashion, he helped me to my feet. I acted like I didn’t need him, all the while trying to think of an excuse to make him stay.

  In the end, I came up with nothing. “See ya later.”

  “Listen, if you happen to hear of anyone who wants a dog let me know. My dad won’t let me keep Bologna. He said I’m the only wild animal he can afford to feed. I had to hide him in my closet last night, I’m not sure—”

  “I’ll take him!” I yelled so loud and so fast that it startled him. I swallowed hard and then lowered my voice in a poor attempt to keep it cool. “I mean… I guess I could take him.”

  “You sure your dad won’t mind?”

  “That would require him to notice I exist, so yeah, I’m pretty sure it will be fine.”

  Ramsey’s eyebrows popped up his forehead and I regretted the overshare immediately. “Thea—”

  Nope. Nope. Nope. I was not talking about my crappy life. Not with Ramsey. Not with anyone. “So anyway, if you’re sure you want to get rid of him, I’d be happy to take him off your hands. Though I can’t promise I’ll keep the name Bologna. Poor dog already got kicked, the least I can do is give him a decent name.”

  His forehead crinkled. “What are you going to name him then?”

  We both looked down at the dog.

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Nora suggested Oscar. That’s pretty cute, don’t ya think?”

  He passed me the end of the belt. “Yeah, that one’s not too bad. Her first choice was Sir Hairy Barkington though.”

  When my eyes got wide, Ramsey immediately realized his mistake.

  “Oh my God, don’t you dare name him that.”

  My lips broke into a smile. “Why not? It’s cute.”

  “You know what? I changed my mind. You can’t have him.” He lunged for the belt, missing it when I pulled Sir Hairy to my other side.

  “Ramsey, stop!” I laughed, hopping on one foot.

  “No way. Naming a dog Sir Hairy Barkington is animal abuse. I won’t allow it.” He once again made a dive for the makeshift leash, but I managed to spin away from him. “Thea, I’m serious,” he said, laughing the entire time.

  And I laughed too. Real. Genuine. Rejuvenating.

  For those minutes as he tried to get the belt back from me, with Sir Hairy barking and wagging his tail as we played, I didn’t have to pretend that everything was okay.

  My mother was still dead.

  My father was still broken.

  But I was laughing with the boy next door. For a few brief moments, it didn’t feel like I was going to suffocate anymore.

  I didn’t know it then, but that day, Ramsey Stewart saved my life.

  And six years later, I’d repay him by ruining his.

  “Your mother is—”

  “Dead!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “It doesn’t matter if she’s allergic to dogs. She doesn’t matter at all anymore.”

  “Don’t say that,” my dad scolded.

  I shook my head, anger vibrating inside me. “You don’t matter, either. She’d hate you, ya know. If she could see you now, she’d hate you almost as much as I do.”

  “Shut up!” he boomed, leaning against the wall for balance. “You have no idea what the last few months have been like for me.”

  Okay, so I’d been wrong. My father did know I existed. Or at least he’d noticed when Sir Hairy growled at him when he came stumbling home from work drunk as a skunk. He’d yelled at me to get that damn dog out of his house.

  And I’d promptly lost my mind.

  Everything I’d been bottling up came spewing out of me like a broken sewer line.

  All the hate.

  All the pain.

  All the resentment.

  My father got it all.

  That wasn’t the first time I’d seen him drunk. But it was starting to become more and more frequent.

  I got it. He was sad and miserable. I was too. But I didn’t ignore him twenty-four-seven.

  I didn’t forget that I had a father.

  I didn’t abandon him when he needed me the most.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t going to destroy his only sliver of happiness if and when he finally pulled his head out of his ass and found one.

  It had only been four hours since Ramsey gave me that dog.

  Four hours since I had been reminded what it felt like to laugh again.

  Four hours since I’d looked at my watch and counted the minutes since she had died.

  I was desperate to hold on to that kind of emotional freedom.

  With bitterness dripping out of me like venom, I leaned toward him and yelled, “I do know what it was like! I was here too, remember? Every single day. I watched her die.”

  “What the hell do you expect from me, Thea? She was my wife!” he roared, so unlike the soft-spoken man I’d grown up with.

  “I expect you to be my father!” I roared right back. “You promised her you were going to take care of me. I heard you. You swore to her that you’d make sure I brushed my teeth every morning and ate something other than microwave dinners every night. You told her you’d help me with my homework and be home by the time I got off the bus. I heard you. You told her all of that and you lied!”

  His voice broke as he slid down the wall. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t realize how hard this would be without her.”

  With a heaving chest, I stared at the wet tracks streaking his hollow cheeks. I wanted to feel bad. He was a shattered man, and I was all but pouring salt in his wounds. But I couldn’t stop myself. I hated him. Everything about him. But only because I couldn’t make him love me the way I needed him to.

  Frantically, I started knotting a long ribbon around the collar I’d braided out of hay twine for Sir Hairy as soon as I’d finished giving him a bath. “I’m keeping the dog. I don’t care what you say.”

  Dad closed his eyes and hung his head low. “Sure. Fine. Whatever you want, Thea.”

  I really just wanted my family back. I’d even settle for just my father. But they were both equally impossible and therefore worthless to hope for.

  “I’m taking him for a walk.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything else.

  Story of my life.

  My hands were shaking and my he
ad was swirling when I got outside. The pink Georgia sky was striped with clouds as Sir Hairy and I made our way down the driveway.

  Not surprisingly, Ramsey pulled up on his bike, skidding to a stop beside me. “Hey, where ya going?”

  “Away,” I mumbled, continuing past him.

  Sir Hairy pulled me up short, sniffing at Ramsey’s pockets. And sure enough, Ramsey pulled out a slice of cheese wrapped in plastic.

  I mean seriously, what didn’t the guy keep in those pockets?

  “Hey bud?” Ramsey cooed, feeding him the cheese. “How’s it going at the new place?”

  My heart raced, and my emotions were going to overflow at any second. I didn’t have time to deal with Ramsey and his never-ending chitchat.

  I kept walking. “It’s going great. Just. Great.”

  “Is that why I heard all that yelling?”

  My whole body locked up tight, and I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you eavesdropping now too?”

  He grinned. “No. I was riding my bike when your dad came around the corner and almost ran me over.”

  I bit out a silent curse. Jesus. What was wrong with him? “Um… He’s not usually…” I had no idea how to finish that. Usually wasn’t really a word that applied to my dad anymore.

  He’d changed so drastically over the last few months that I wasn’t sure what usually looked like for him at all. And the worst part was that also meant I didn’t know what usually looked like for me, either. I’d have killed for a single day of normalcy, even if that meant listening to her die all over again.

  When further explanation failed me, I skipped right to the point. “Sorry.”

  “No biggy. I survived. After he tripped on the sidewalk and went rolling down the driveway like a bowling ball, I helped him to the door. I left around the point you told him he didn’t matter.” Uncomfortable, he looked down and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Figured you’d be grounded for the next twenty years after that. I was prepping to do a search-and-rescue mission for ol’ Bologna here. Trust me when I say, this guy has no problems pissing in a closet if you don’t take him out regularly.” His dark eyes came back to mine as he reached for the leash. “Maybe I should hold on to him for a few days until you get things worked out with your dad.”

  Balancing on my crutches, I switched the ribbon to my hand farther away from him. “It’s going to take more than a few days to get things worked out with my dad. And Sir Hairy is mine, so back off.” I made a kissy sound, snapping the dog’s attention away from Ramsey’s pocket cheese. “Let’s go, boy.”