Brave

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  Dylan closed his eyes and steeled himself. The hat was big, and once he left the house, he was stuck with it. It wasn’t like he could throw it in a backpack. But why would he want to hide it? He’d earned the right to wear the hat—shouldn’t he feel proud of his self-discipline and hard work? He took a deep breath. There was no more time to debate it. With a whistle at Brave, who hopped off the bed and followed him, Dylan headed out the door to school, the brown leather hat planted firmly on his head.

  * * *

  Dylan tried to ignore the surprised looks. Some of the kids in the hallway at school nodded approvingly, but others laughed and turned to whisper to their friends. Dylan’s cheeks were burning, but he took a breath and exhaled slowly. You got this, he told himself.

  Then he stepped through the doorway into English class. He quickly scanned the room, but Grace wasn’t there yet. Jaxon, however, was.

  Jaxon’s eyes went wide, and a huge grin crossed his face. “Look who just walked in. Dude Ranch Dylan.”

  The other kids laughed nervously. Normally Dylan would have laughed too—and he definitely wouldn’t have tried to stop Jaxon. But this time he was on the receiving end of his best friend’s teasing, which sounded almost innocent but was just biting enough to sting. It made Dylan want to pull off the cowboy hat and run out of class. Another part of him knew that running away wasn’t the answer, though. That wasn’t what Grace would do. It wasn’t what any of the cowboys on the ranch would do.

  He was tired of hiding this side of himself at school. He loved the ranch and ranch life—and he shouldn’t be afraid to show it.

  Dylan sat down in his regular seat next to Jaxon, who let out a loud guffaw.

  “Seriously, dude, what’s on your head?” Jaxon said, loudly enough for the whole class to hear. “Halloween isn’t for a few weeks.” The kids around them snickered.

  Dylan took a deep breath and told the truth.

  “It’s my hat. I wear it when I’m working.”

  “Working?” Jaxon chuckled.

  “Yep. I’ve been working on the Garcia Ranch with Grace and my dog.”

  “A ranch? With Grace Garcia and that dog—what’s his name, Brave? Wait, I thought you were grounded.”

  Something about Jaxon’s tone was really getting under Dylan’s skin. He didn’t like the sound of Grace’s and Brave’s names in his mouth.

  “I kind of lied about that,” Dylan admitted. “But I’m done lying now.”

  “That’s why you’ve been bailing on me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Something flickered across Jaxon’s face, and for a second Dylan thought he was hurt that Dylan had lied to him. But then Jaxon’s expression hardened into something else.

  “What do you do at the ranch, shovel up after the cows go number two?” Jaxon’s tone was outright sneering now.

  His words were like a slap, and it took Dylan a second to recover. “It’s called mucking stables,” Dylan replied. “And yeah, I’ve done it.”

  Jaxon looked at the kids sitting nearby. “D’you hear that? Dylan shovels poo!”

  The kids laughed. Dylan felt his face go red. Maybe this had all been a terrible idea.

  Jaxon scowled at him. “Good choice, dude,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “That hat is obviously way cooler than making viral videos with me. It’s funny that we used to be friends.”

  Dylan’s whole body felt like it was on fire, and he was shaking. He stood up fast, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying not to let his hurt and anger show. Jaxon stood up too. “So you’re saying we’re not friends anymore?” Dylan asked.

  “That depends,” Jaxon said, locking his eyes on Dylan’s. “Are you going to take off that hat and dress like a normal person?”

  Dylan felt everyone else in the classroom staring at them as they stood facing each other. Jaxon held his gaze until Dylan broke it off, looking over Jaxon’s shoulder. A poster tacked to the far wall said RESPECT ISN’T GIVEN, IT’S EARNED in all caps. Dylan looked down at the floor and scuffed his foot against the desk.

  It was like there was a battle going on inside his brain. He knew that if he took off the hat, everything would go back to normal and Jaxon would stop making fun of him and their group of friends could go back to the way they used to be. But he loved the hat—and everything it stood for. Plus, Grace had given it to him as a gift.

  “Last chance,” Jaxon said.

  Before Dylan could answer, Ms. Frantzis hustled into the room, looking frazzled.

  “Let’s get started, guys,” she said, without looking up to see the standoff happening in her classroom.

  Her presence broke the spell. Dylan gritted his teeth, reached up, and took the hat off. The cool air felt good on his head. He ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to smile. “It was just a joke,” he said to Jaxon. “Why’d you have to take it so seriously?”

  Jaxon cackled. “Seriously, dude? Nice one! You got me.”

  “You totally fell for it,” Dylan said. He looked around at their classmates, who nodded in agreement and seemed relieved that the showdown had been a fake.

  “Eyes up here,” Ms. Frantzis called out with a clap of her hands. As everyone took their seats, Dylan put the hat on the floor under his chair. He twisted around to reach his backpack, and that’s when he saw that Grace had come in and was sitting right behind him.

  She had heard—and seen—the whole thing.

  The look of sadness and betrayal on her face was more than Dylan could bear. He couldn’t meet her eye, so instead he turned around to face forward again. There was a rustling sound, the zzzzzt of a zipper being hastily closed, footsteps, and then the click of the door shutting firmly.

  Dylan spun back around. Grace’s seat was empty. He looked to the doorway, but she was long gone.

  He raised a hand into the air. “Sorry, Ms. Frantzis, but I have to—I need to—I’ll be right back.” Dylan didn’t wait for a response. He jumped out of his seat and ran into the hall, but it was empty.

  Dylan’s heart was beating a mile a minute. Should he go after her? Would she even speak to him? He hated that she’d witnessed any of what had just happened between him and Jaxon. But now she was gone, and he had no chance to explain it to her.

  Just then, Jaxon stepped into the hall behind him and wrapped an arm around Dylan’s shoulder. “Let her go,” he stage-whispered. “And meet me after school. There’s something I want to show you.”

  ★ Chapter 18 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  Apparently, Jaxon’s plan involved biking three miles into the desert. They’d picked up Brave after school and were now forging their way off-trail. Dust swelled up around their bike tracks and the ground looked parched. It felt like the land was ripe for rain.

  Dylan thought they had to be close to the reservoir, but at Jaxon’s direction, they kept going—Jaxon leading and Brave running at Dylan’s side—until they reached an open, hilly stretch of land. The day was hot and humid, and sweat dripped off the tip of Dylan’s nose as they finally came to a stop in the middle of nowhere, way out of sight of any houses. Brave was panting too, and Dylan let him have a few gulps from his water bottle.

  “This is the spot,” Jaxon said as he shrugged off his backpack and it spilled open, revealing the contents inside.

  “Uh, the spot for what?” Dylan couldn’t believe his eyes. “What’s all that?”

  Jaxon clapped his hands together gleefully. “That, my friend, is a whole backpack full of fireworks.”

  Brave stepped over and sniffed at the bag, which sat on the ground between the boys.

  “Brave, leave it,” Dylan said. The nearly two weeks of training clicked in and Brave did as he was told. Turning his attention elsewhere, the dog sniffed his way around the desert clearing and the low, scruffy bushes. They were surrounded by layers of hills, a signature of the land northwest of San Antonio. There were a few spindly-looking trees and cacti scattered around too.

  Dylan had never been t
his far away from home before on his own. He checked his phone. Service was spotty. His mom thought he was working on the ranch that afternoon, and he hoped she wouldn’t try calling him—and get mad if it went straight to voicemail. Then he reminded himself that she’d be even angrier if she found out that he and Jaxon were about to set off fireworks.

  “So, where’d you get them?” Dylan asked, nudging the bag with his toe. It was heavy and didn’t budge an inch.

  “You remember how I asked my dad for fireworks and he refused to buy them?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I found my own connection. There’s a kid who knows a kid who knows another kid. Seems like they had some left over from the Fourth of July.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Dude. It means I have fireworks. Stop asking questions and let’s set them off. You said you’d be my wingman for a little adventure.”

  Dylan wasn’t sure how to reply. His parents had always been firm about not letting him play with fireworks. He could practically hear the main points of their lecture replaying in his head: Fireworks are dangerous, I knew a kid growing up who got hurt really badly, it’s extra risky if you don’t know who you’re buying them from or how old they are . . .

  For about the hundredth time that afternoon, Dylan questioned whether he’d made the right choice by following Jaxon out into the desert. If he’d known Jaxon’s plan was to set off fireworks, he’d have said no, and then he and Brave could have been hanging out with Grace, Mustang, and Rey on the ranch at that very moment.

  Then, with a sharp pang, Dylan remembered that wasn’t an option anymore. Because Dylan had messed up everything, turning around and high-tailing it to the comfort of the ranch was out of the question. He replayed the scene, seeing the wounded look on Grace’s face and hearing the sound of the classroom door closing behind her as she took off. He remembered that he had made his choice: Jaxon.

  Dylan was miserable. He knew he’d been cruel to his new friend, who had never been anything but kind to him. And because of it he wouldn’t be welcome on the Garcia Ranch anymore—not today, not ever.

  “Check this out—” Jaxon was waving a small paper-wrapped tube with a wick in front of Dylan’s face.

  Dylan swatted it away. “Jax—not in my face, man.”

  Jaxon laughed. “It’s not lit, dummy.”

  “How are you going to do it?” Dylan asked, changing the subject.

  Jaxon held out a plastic grocery bag that had been dangling from his handlebars the whole way. Dylan took it and peered inside. It was a watermelon.

  “We’re going to stuff this thing with fireworks and blow it up,” Jaxon said. “Film the whole thing, in slo-mo on my phone and regular speed on yours, then edit them together and put it on YouTube. Exploding fruit videos! We’re totally going viral.”

  “Um . . . isn’t it kind of dangerous to light that many fireworks at once?”

  “I thought you were up for this,” Jax said, his eyebrows raised.

  “I mean, of course I am,” Dylan stammered.

  “Watermelon meets fireworks.” Jaxon laughed. “That’s all kinds of awesome.”

  Dylan nodded nervously. He eyed the underbrush and wondered just how dry—and flammable—it was. Brave was thoroughly investigating the area with his nose, nudging at rocks and pawing at piles of twigs. A small rodent of some kind panicked at the sight of him and scurried off with a terrified squeak. Brave barked and started after it.

  “Brave—stop!” Dylan commanded him. Disappointed, Brave stopped and trotted back toward him. “Good boy,” Dylan said, giving the dog a treat from his pocket.

  “Dude, your dog is nuts,” Jaxon said with a shake of his head.

  Dylan bristled. Brave had literally just demonstrated how well trained he was by obeying a command, but all Jaxon could see was that he was a bad dog. Whatever, Dylan told himself.

  He wished he knew how to get out of this situation—not just for himself, but for Brave, too. The sound of a ton of fireworks going off at once was going to be loud and scary. Dylan knew Brave was definitely going to be freaked out by it, but just how bad would his reaction be? And how could he get himself and the dog out of this without having to hear a ton of grief from Jaxon? He already thought Brave was a nuisance—what would he say if Dylan told him he couldn’t stay because Brave would be scared of the fireworks?

  It would never work, and he’d never live it down at school. And now that he’d hurt Grace’s feelings so badly, Jaxon and the other guys were the only friends Dylan had.

  Dylan was stuck. And so was Brave.

  While Jaxon cut a hole in the side of the watermelon with a pocket knife and started scooping out some of the flesh, Dylan scanned the area and spotted a tree a few yards away. It was the sturdiest-looking of the bunch. He led Brave over to it and wrapped his leash around the lowest branch, then clipped it to Brave’s collar. Brave whimpered as Dylan started to walk away.

  “I know, pal,” Dylan said to the dog. “It’s just for a minute though, okay? I’ll be right back for you and then we can go home.” At least this way Brave wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, Brave had overcome his fears enough—and it would all be over quickly enough—that the dog would be okay.

  Jaxon had packed the watermelon with fireworks so that their wicks dangled out of it. He wiped his sticky hands on his shorts, then took out a lighter and his phone. Dylan stood a few feet away, close to Brave.

  “Get closer, dude!” Jaxon said. “You’ll never get a good shot from way back there. You got your camera ready?”

  Dylan took a couple of steps forward and took his phone out of his pocket. He set the camera to record video and nodded that he was ready. His heart drummed hard in his chest. Brave whined from his spot by the tree, like he knew something was about to happen.

  Jaxon held up his phone and flicked the lighter. He held the flame under the first wick, which quickly caught and sparked all the others. A loud hiss filled the air as the strings blackened and curled up toward their roots.

  Dylan held his breath. The air went still. And then . . . BOOM!

  It was the loudest noise he had ever heard. It started with one large blast that vibrated his chest, then was followed by a dozen or more smaller pops and bursts from within the large cloud of gray smoke that encircled them.

  Through the noise, Dylan heard something else—a sound that was at once familiar and upsetting. It was Brave, and he was terrified. The dog was crying out, wailing and howling and yelping so loudly that it was painful to hear. Dylan spun around just in time to see Brave pulling with all his strength on the leash that lashed him to the tree branch.

  “Brave, no—” Dylan shouted, but it was too late. With a loud crack, the branch snapped off and the dog was free. With one final wail—and without a backward glance—Brave sped off and was out of sight within seconds.

  Dylan’s phone slipped from his fingers and landed in the dirt as he raced after the dog, fear coursing through his veins and his ears still echoing from the explosion.

  ★ Chapter 19 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  “Brave!” Dylan was hoarse from screaming the dog’s name over and over. His voice echoed off the rocks and bounced back at him, but Brave still didn’t appear. “Brave—come back!”

  Either Brave had forgotten all of his training in an instant, or he had traveled so far, so fast that he was already out of earshot. Neither was a good option.

  Dylan had raced away from their bikes and the spot of the blown up watermelon, but he could still hear Jaxon calling him. He didn’t want to stop searching for Brave, but the terrain was unfamiliar and he had no water or supplies with him. With one last scan of the horizon, he turned and headed back. Crestfallen, he trudged across the dry landscape toward Jaxon, who was hunched over something on the ground.

  Just as Dylan got close, he smelled burning and saw Jaxon jump backward. There, on the ground, a stack of firecrackers smoldered until, with a de
afening burst, they went off one after the other. Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Jaxon let out a gleeful hoot and punched the air.

  “What are you doing?” Dylan shouted. “Brave will never come back if you keep making all that noise!”

  Jaxon looked at Dylan as if he’d grown a second head. “Chill, seriously. We had some extras.” He shook his head. “It’s like aliens took over my best friend or something. What happened? You used to be fun.”

  “My dog just ran away,” Dylan said, astonished at the way Jaxon was acting.

  “He was a stray, right?”

  Dylan nodded.

  “So he ran away.” Jaxon waved a hand in the general direction Brave had fled. “That’s what strays do, isn’t it? Did you get the shot, by the way?”

  Dylan was confused. “The shot? What shot—”

  “The video!” Jaxon laughed. “The whole reason we’re out here, Dylan.”

  Dylan blinked, trying to process his friend’s words, but he could barely take in what Jaxon was saying. All he cared about right now was finding Brave. He dug his phone out of the dirt and handed it over to Jaxon. “I don’t care if I got ‘the shot.’ I have to find Brave. And since you dragged me all the way out here, you better be coming with.”

  “Seriously? He’ll come back, Dyl.”

  “He won’t. Not unless we go find him.” He studied his friend’s familiar face, looking for any sign of the kid he’d grown up with. “Please—can you just help me, Jaxon?”

  Jaxon gave him a grudging shrug. “Fine.” He took a few steps toward the brush and halfheartedly called Brave’s name.

  They circled the area for half an hour, and Dylan was grateful to see that Jaxon was actually trying to help. He peered behind rocks and under shrubs and squinted at gray shadows in the distance—but no luck. Either Brave couldn’t hear them or he didn’t want to be found. With every passing minute, Dylan grew more worried that his dog was long gone, swallowed up by the Texas wilderness.