“Use mine.” Benji took the clipboard. When they finished, they gave it back to the receptionist.
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have an update.” She gave Benji her sad smile again.
Then Benji began making calls—his mom, Ms. Rannells, and finally Alma. He liked having a job, even if it was sharing bad news. Waiting was the worst. He tried to watch the TV. It was better than watching Felix, who had his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His body shook as he cried quietly.
Benji’s parents showed up thirty minutes later. He hugged his mom. When her arms wrapped around him, his eyes clouded, like he’d been waiting for her shoulder.
He felt a pat on his back from his dad. His mom released her embrace, and he hugged his dad.
“It’s going to be all right,” his dad said. “We’ll get through this.” Those few words made them feel like a team again. Something he hadn’t felt in a while.
Benji’s mom sat next to Felix. She squeezed his hand and whispered something. Felix nodded slightly without looking up.
They settled into the chairs, taking up half the waiting area. Other people came in with their sick animals—a dog that had swallowed a corncob, a lethargic cat, a puppy that refused to eat. Felix and Benji waited silently.
It felt like a year before the door to the back part of the hospital opened. A short woman in a white lab coat came out. She exchanged a look with the receptionist, who pointed at them.
“I’m Dr. Rhamid. Let’s talk in the back.”
Felix was the first out of his chair. They all followed Dr. Rhamid into an empty exam room that smelled like ammonia.
“Where’s Freebie?” Felix asked.
“They’re prepping him for surgery.” She clasped her hands and then explained the extent of the injuries: broken bones, punctured lung, internal bleeding, brain swelling.
“But he’ll be okay?” Benji interrupted her list of problems.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “We will do all we can, if that’s what you want. But you should be prepared for any outcome and difficult decisions.”
“Decisions?” Benji asked, but he knew what she was getting at.
“Sometimes the humane thing to do is the hardest. We have to consider the quality of life, including long-term pain and special needs.” The doctor looked to the adults in the room.
“We have money!” Felix suddenly shouted. “We can pay anything. Thousands. Millions. Anything! Just save him.” Tears streamed down his red cheeks. “Please.” His voice cracked.
Technically, they still had $1,689,142.74. They would give every penny of it to save Freebie. And if they won an additional ten million, Benji would give that over too.
“We will do everything we can. But we might not be able to save him.” The doctor tilted her head and pushed up her glasses.
Benji swallowed the knot forming in the back of his throat and wiped his eyes on his shirtsleeve.
“We’ve got millions,” Felix repeated. “Take it all.”
Dr. Rhamid put a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s not about money.”
Felix
“I’m not going anywhere without my dog,” Felix said to his mom.
“You need some sleep. We’ll come back in the morning.” It was just after 10:00 p.m. Reggie and Mr. and Mrs. Porter had left. Felix’s mother had volunteered to stay with the boys. Now, it seemed, she was changing her mind.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Okay.” She didn’t push any more.
Dr. Rhamid had taken Freebie into surgery three hours ago, and there had been no update on the dog’s condition, only an update on the medical bill. The total was over three thousand dollars and growing.
His mom leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Felix was exhausted but not sleepy.
“This is taking too long.” Benji ran his hands through his hair.
Felix nodded. He clung to the thought that no news was good news. Freebie was alive. Had to be. If he wasn’t, the doctor would have told them.
But the vet could walk through the door at any second and give them the worst news. It made Felix’s chest ache.
How much longer?
“I’m sorry, Felix,” Benji mumbled. “This is all my fault. All of it. Taking the twenty. The wedding video. My dad shutting down our account. Freebie getting hit.” He sniffed, and his shoulders shook. “And emailing Dad’s lawyer was a stupid idea. I am an idiot. The world’s biggest idiot. And now Freebie might…”
“You’re not an idiot.” Felix glanced at Benji. “I shouldn’t have said that.” Felix had been so mad about the money and the lawyers. But being mad was better than what he was feeling now.
“You were just honest.” Benji wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“I was a jerk. I’m sorry.” Felix swallowed. “And we’re both to blame for all of this. We’re in this mess together.”
“We stole money. Maybe we deserve this.”
“No. Because Freebie never did anything wrong. He didn’t deserve this. That can’t be how this—how life—works.” Felix didn’t care about blame. He didn’t care about the money or finding a new apartment or his mom going back to school. That stuff would work out. Somehow. “Freebie didn’t deserve this,” he repeated.
“Maybe he did,” Benji said, and Felix’s head snapped up, disgusted. “He chewed up the steering wheel on a Bugatti. That’s gotta be bad karma or something.”
Felix laughed even though he still felt like his insides were crumbling.
“And he pooped in the elevator once,” Felix added. “But that was my fault. I took too long to get my shoes on.”
“I think he ate one of the remotes in my suite,” Benji said. “And he definitely tried to steal a tooth from the T. rex skull.”
They laughed until they were on the edge of tears again.
“I just want him to get better,” Felix said.
“That’s all I want too.” Benji twisted the end of his shirt. “It’s funny. You think you want something. Like really want it. Then in an instant, it doesn’t matter. I would’ve given up all our money to make the basketball team. If I made the team…” He hesitated. “I’d be good at something.”
Felix felt a stab of guilt in his gut. “I’m sorry I ignored you during tryouts.”
“It’s okay.” Benji shrugged. “If I was the good player and you were the one who stunk, I would’ve ignored you.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. And it’s not okay. We’re supposed to be partners. We’re supposed to be friends.” Felix cleared his throat. He wasn’t saying this right. “We are friends. With or without the money.”
“Well, it looks like we’re going to be without.”
“I know.”
Tuesday, November 30
Dr. Rhamid finally walked into the waiting room just after midnight. Felix searched her expression for some kind of sign.
Is Freebie okay? Is Freebie alive? Is Freebie…
“Would you like to see your dog?” she asked, and that answered one question.
“Yes.” Felix nudged his mom awake.
They followed Dr. Rhamid to a room where Freebie lay still on a table. The lights in the room were low, and it felt like they should whisper and tiptoe. A technician stroked Freebie’s head gently. Felix stared at Freebie’s chest until he saw it rise.
“Is he okay?” Benji asked as they gathered around the dog.
“He’s a fighter,” Dr. Rhamid said with a half smile. “He had some issues during surgery, but he refused to give up. We will know more after the anesthesia wears off and in the coming days. If he does well, he’ll need another surgery for his leg.”
If he does well? Felix refused to consider the if.
“You should go home,” the doctor continue
d. “We will call you immediately with any updates.”
Felix leaned his nose against Freebie’s. It felt dry when it should have been wet. And Freebie should have licked Felix’s face and wagged his tail.
“I love you, boy,” Felix whispered. “And we’ll take care of you. No matter what.”
“Just get better. Please,” Benji mumbled into Freebie’s bandaged ear.
Felix’s mom placed a hand on Felix’s back and rubbed a small circle. She used to do this when he had nightmares.
“Let’s go home,” she said.
They walked to the front of the building. When they reached the outside door, the guy at the desk stopped them.
“Excuse me. I’m sorry. We need you to take care of your dog’s bill.”
“Right now?” Felix’s mom asked.
“It’s our policy. Sadly, sometimes owners don’t return for their pets.” He held out a sheet of paper.
“That won’t happen with us.” Felix couldn’t imagine people abandoning their dogs.
The back door opened, and Dr. Rhamid walked into the lobby. Felix worried she was going to deliver bad news, but she smiled and tapped her empty mug before heading to the coffee machine in the corner.
Felix’s mother grabbed the bill, and he looked over her shoulder. His eyes immediately found the total—$3,819.04. Yesterday, that amount would’ve been no problem.
“I can’t pay that,” his mom said.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. We require full payment, or we cannot treat your dog.”
“What? You can’t do that!” Felix balled his fists.
Benji stepped up to the desk. “We’ll pay it. We’ll pay it. Tomorrow.” Then he patted his pockets. “I just forgot my wallet.”
“If you’re worried about us not coming back, then we just won’t leave,” Felix said. “I’ll stay here until Freebie is better.” He sat in one of the plastic chairs, ready to stay for days if he had to.
Dr. Rhamid stepped forward. “It’s okay, Andy. Let them take care of the bill another day. It’s very late.”
The receptionist gave a slight nod. “I’ll put a note on your account.”
Benji had to practically drag Felix out of the animal hospital. An inch of snow had fallen. Benji offered to scrape the car, but Felix’s mom refused the help. The boys climbed into the backseat while she cleared the windows.
“What are we going to do?” Felix asked. “We need to pay Freebie’s bills.” Money alone wouldn’t save Freebie. But without it, Freebie had no chance.
“I might know a way to get the money back,” Benji whispered. “It would be bending the rules, but not exactly breaking them.”
“How? What do you mean?”
“I know how to tell my parents without really telling them. If they know the truth about the challenge, I bet they’ll drop the lawsuit and release the money.”
“Do it!”
Felix didn’t care if it was bending—or breaking—the rules. He didn’t care if they won or lost. He only cared about Freebie.
Benji
Benji stood in his room that morning. He’d only slept a few hours, and his eyes felt heavy and his brain sluggish. But he had to tell his parents about the challenge without really telling them. He pulled out his iPad and started a new entry.
November 30
I’m not always honest when I write in here. I want to sound like the good guy. Somebody who wins stuff and who people like. Someone who would make his parents proud. But here’s the truth. The last twenty-four hours have been the hardest of my life. Freebie was hit by a car and almost died. He still might not make it. And I fought with my best friend over money.
See, Laura Friendly didn’t just give Felix and me five million dollars. It was a challenge. We had to spend it all in thirty days, and then we’d get an actual reward. And we couldn’t tell anyone. That was part of the rules. We have until the end of the day tomorrow to spend the last of it. If we do, I’ll win ten million. If we don’t, that’s it. Game over.
But my parents’ lawyers have locked up all the money. It might as well be in Gringotts because I can’t get to it. Felix and I can’t win unless we spend it. And we can’t pay Freebie’s vet bills. That dog means everything to Felix and to me.
I didn’t make the basketball team. I’m not a good student. It would have been awesome to come home with a giant check for ten million dollars. That would have made my parents proud. Maybe someday, I’ll be more than a screw-up.
Over and out,
Benji
He turned off his iPad and left for school.
* * *
• • •
Benji sat at an empty table near the trash cans. He’d forgotten his lunch, but he didn’t have an appetite anyway.
“Can I join you?”
He looked up to see Alma smiling at him.
“Sure.”
She sat across from him. “How’s your dog?” He liked that she said “your dog.” Freebie might have spent more time with Felix, but Benji loved that stupid mutt just as much. He was sure of it.
“Same.”
“No lunch?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Want some of mine?” She held up half of a wrap. “It’s not as good as pizza.”
“Thanks.” He grinned. “Alma, I’m really sorry about the drama club fundraiser. I was planning all sorts of amazing things…and now everything is a mess. The money is gone, and Freebie is…” He almost said “dying” but caught himself. “Freebie’s not okay.”
“Don’t worry about the fundraiser.” She touched his hand for a second. “I don’t know what you were planning. But it’s fine.”
“There were penguins,” he mumbled.
She laughed. “What? You get Apex-7 for the wedding, but I get penguins? I’ve been to the aquarium. Penguins reek like rotten fish. No, thank you.”
Benji tapped his forehead. “Note to self, Alma doesn’t like penguins.”
She laughed again. “You’ll still come, right? There are no penguins, but we’re having craft vendors, a magician, and an auction. You can bid on a gift basket from Sprinkles.”
“That’s our place.” He hadn’t meant to say that. His cheeks burned.
“It is,” she said, and he instantly felt better.
“I’ll be there.”
* * *
• • •
When Benji walked into the kitchen after school, his mom was sitting at the counter with her hands wrapped around a coffee mug. The moment her eyes flicked to him, she was out of her seat and wrapping him in a hug. He knew she’d listened to the journal entry.
“I’m proud of you, Benji. Every day. I’m proud of you.” Her voice quivered, and he thought she might be crying, but she held him so tight that he couldn’t see her face.
“For what?”
“You are my son, and I’ll love you no matter what.”
“Love is not the same as being proud,” he mumbled.
She stepped back to look him in the eyes. “You are a good kid, Benji, with the biggest heart. I think that’s more important than grades or basketball. Don’t you?”
“I guess,” he said.
“I love you so much.”
“I know,” Benji said.
“Do you? Because if you don’t, that’s my failure.” She touched her heart. “This is not something that has to be earned.”
She squeezed him again, and then Benji heard someone clearing their throat. His dad stood in the doorway leading to the dining room.
His father and mother exchanged a look, and she made an excuse about needing to check an email and left them alone.
Benji took a seat at the table. He didn’t want to start the conversation because he didn’t know how.
“We’ve dropped th
e lawsuit,” his dad said.
“Thank you.” He let out a deep breath. They could help Freebie now.
“I wish you’d talked to us sooner.”
Benji ran his finger over the spot in the table where he’d etched his name in the wood with a fork years ago. He’d ruined the furniture like he ruined everything else.
“I couldn’t,” he said.
“I’m not talking about the money.” His dad sat across the table and didn’t speak again until Benji met his eyes. “Benji, I don’t care if you don’t play basketball. I don’t care if you don’t get As, as long as you put in the effort.”
“I think every parent says that, and I don’t think any kid has ever believed it.” Benji shook his head. “If I have a kid someday, I’ll never say, ‘It’s okay if you don’t do good, as long as you try hard.’ ”
His dad leaned back in the chair. “Then what will you say to your kid?”
“Son.” Benji stuck out his chest and used his deepest voice. “I want perfect test scores and first-place trophies. You should be good at music, playing trumpet solos at concerts and stuff. You should score the most points on your basketball team, your baseball team, your soccer team, your cricket team.”
“Cricket?” His dad chuckled. “What do you know about cricket?”
“I know my son will be the best at it.”
“And if he’s not?” his dad asked.
“Then he’s not good enough to be a Porter.” Benji was trying to be funny. But watching the sadness move across his dad’s eyes, he knew it wasn’t.
His father didn’t speak for what felt like an hour. Benji fidgeted in his seat, waiting.
“You and your mother are the most important things to me,” his dad finally said. “And nothing you do or don’t do could change how I feel about you.”
Benji knew this—or had known this at one time. But to hear his dad say it now, he almost felt silly for ever doubting it.
“You are a Porter and my son. You are more than enough.” Benji’s dad took a breath. “And I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that.”
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