“You okay?” she finally asked.
Dylan nodded, though he wasn’t actually sure if he was. Mostly he was confused—he knew he’d only told Jaxon the truth, and that Jaxon needed to hear it. But then why did Dylan feel so terrible for saying those things? Shouldn’t he be feeling better, not worse? At the moment, all he felt was queasy.
“You know you did the right thing, right?” Grace said, raising an eyebrow. It was as if she could read his mind.
Dylan’s head shot up. “I did?”
“Yeah. Telling him off like that took guts.”
“I guess,” Dylan said. “But it didn’t do any good. He just took off anyway.” Dylan felt a twinge of guilt—he hadn’t wanted Jaxon there anymore—but also sadness as the reality sank in. The fact that Jaxon would split like that only confirmed what Dylan already knew: Their friendship was a one-way street that didn’t run in Dylan’s direction. If it wasn’t good for Jaxon, Jaxon wasn’t interested in it. That was no way to be a friend. But it still sucks, Dylan thought. “He wasn’t always like this.”
“I know. I remember him in elementary school. He wasn’t so bad.”
“I’m not sure what changed,” Dylan said. “But I wish it would change back.” He buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I can’t believe I just said all that to him. He’ll never speak to me again.”
“He will.” Grace placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I don’t know why, but sometimes it’s hardest to stand up to the people who deserve it the most.”
Dylan nodded in agreement.
“And Jaxon definitely deserved it,” Grace added.
“He really did,” Dylan said.
“I’m not trying to tell you not to be friends with him,” Grace said. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all.”
Dylan snuck a sideways glance at Grace. Her long black hair was plastered to her face, and her wet clothes were suctioned to her skin. She had to be totally uncomfortable, but she was still there, still helping him find Brave. They hadn’t even been friends that long, but something about Grace was true and loyal . . . the way Jaxon had once been.
“Thanks,” Dylan said.
“For what?”
“For sticking this out with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Grace pressed her lips together and nodded. “Just so we’re clear, though—you know I’m still mad at you, right?”
Dylan laughed. “I know. And I deserve it.”
“Yup. You do.”
He looked out at the rain, which had started to slow down a little. The whole reason they were there came back to him like a punch in the gut. “How are we going to find Brave?” he asked.
Grace sighed. “By getting soaked.”
“You mean more soaked?” Dylan asked.
“Can you get more soaked? Or is there only one level of soakedness?” she asked.
“I guess we’re about to find out. Come on.” Dylan squeezed out from under the rocks and let the rain pour down on him. He ignored the squish of water in his sneakers and the clammy feeling of his pants clinging to his legs. They sloshed through the muddy puddles, the water up to their ankles, back in the direction they’d been heading.
They made their way up a steep slope, but it got so slippery that they could barely stay upright. Dylan’s right foot came down on top of a slick rock, and his ankle twisted underneath him. Grace’s hand shot out to steady him, but she didn’t catch him in time. He hit the ground hard, landing on his back with his head pointing downhill. He’d had the wind knocked out of him, and before he could catch his breath, he realized he was still moving . . . sliding this time, with sharp points scraping his skin and poking him in the ribs.
“Dylan!” Grace cried, moving as quickly—and carefully—as she could down the slope after him. “Are you okay?”
He slowed to a stop and lay still for a second while his heart rate recovered. “Oof—” He covered his face with his arms as a shower of small rocks ricocheted and whacked into him with a ping ping ping. “I’m fine,” he said finally.
Grace reached his side. “I wasn’t sure you were going to stop.”
“Me neither.”
Standing over him, she extended a hand. They gripped each other’s wrists to get a firm hold, and she pulled him up to a standing position. He put all his weight on his good foot, gingerly holding the other one off the ground.
Grace sucked in her breath. “Ouch. Can you walk on it?”
“I think so.” Dylan put his foot down and a jolt of searing pain shot up his leg. He winced from the pain and lifted it back up, still holding on to Grace for balance.
“Try again,” she said. “Go slower this time.”
Dylan took a breath and put the ball of his foot down first, then slowly lowered his heel. It still hurt, but less. He wriggled his toes to get the blood flowing again.
“Good,” Grace said. “You’re doing great. Easy.”
“Yup.” Exhaling slowly, he put more weight on his twisted ankle. “It’s sore but I think it’s okay.”
She let go of his arm and he stood by himself. “You’re very calm under pressure,” she observed. “Not everyone’s like that, you know.”
“No?”
“No.”
A crack of lightning and rumble of thunder reminded them that they needed to keep moving.
“You good?” Grace asked.
“I’m good. Walking it off. Let’s go.” Dylan stepped carefully up the slope and back onto flatter land. “Brave!” he cried, cupping his hands over his mouth. Still nothing.
They trekked and called, then trekked and called some more. All the while the rain pounded down and Dylan’s ankle throbbed, but he barely noticed. He was too distracted by the question that weighed heavily on him—a question he hated saying out loud. But the more he turned it around in his mind, the less he could keep it to himself. “Do you think Brave’s okay?”
“I don’t know.” Grace’s face was tight with worry, and he could tell she’d been wondering the same thing. “This storm might really scare him. But he was on his own for a long time, and he knows how to take care of himself.”
“We just need to find him—fast.”
They kept up a steady pace. Dylan made a mental note of how far they’d come from the spot where Jaxon had blown up the watermelon and where they’d left their bikes. They’d need to be able to get back there once they found Brave. If they found Brave.
“Brave!” Grace called out.
“Here, boy!” Dylan shouted. “Come on, buddy—it’s us!” His throat was getting raw, but he didn’t stop. “Braaaaaave! Where are you?”
There was a faint murmur under the sound of the rain—so soft that Dylan wasn’t sure he had really heard it.
Dylan froze. He looked at Grace—she had heard it too. He held a finger to his lips and strained his ears.
There it was. It was a bark. It was Brave.
★ Chapter 22 ★
* * *
* * *
They lost the sound of Brave’s bark almost as soon as it started. Just as the rainfall surged and grew heavy again, the wind picked up, blocking out all other sound.
“Where is he?” Dylan shouted to Grace.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Wait until the wind dies down again—we’ll hear him.”
“I hope so.”
Dylan scanned the hilly landscape, which rose and fell in every direction. Flows of rainwater rushed around trees, cactuses, and underbrush, running off of smooth limestone plateaus and merging into muddy currents below. The heavy clouds had blocked out any remaining sunlight, and it was getting too dark to spot the dog.
There was nothing to do but wait. Every nerve in Dylan’s body was on alert, and his senses were cranked up high. The wind paused, and in the silence that followed, he heard a quick bark, followed by whining, echoing off rock and dying out just as it reached them.
Dylan looked in the direction of the sound. “There!” He pointed at a tall, wide rock ledge a
t the bottom of a long slope, about a hundred yards away. Another bark floated on the air toward them.
“I hear him!” Grace responded, but Dylan had already taken off. He moved as fast as he could, but it was slow going over the sludgy, uneven ground. He felt like he was trapped in the bad dream he’d had many times—where he’s trying to outrun a giant monster but he can barely get his heavy feet to move. Dylan slid and stumbled, tripping over downed tree branches and ignoring the pain in his ankle. Grace was right behind him.
They were halfway there. Dylan heard the bark again. “I’m coming, Brave!” he shouted. “Just hang on!”
“Oh no—” Grace cried out right behind him. Dylan spun around in time to see her lose her balance and start to fall forward. He threw out his arms to catch her just before she went down.
“I got you,” he said.
“Thank you,” Grace gasped. “That was close.”
Just then, the air around them came alive, as if it had been electrified. Dylan felt pressure on his eardrums as the storm suddenly took on a new dimension. In an instant, the wind doubled in intensity, howling in his ears and knocking into him so hard he swayed on his feet. It swept across the land, tilting trees sideways and stripping off their leaves. The rain beat down even harder.
“Looks like the storm was just getting warmed up,” Grace said. “We need to hurry.”
As if in response, a bolt of lightning flashed, so bright it hurt their eyes. Thunder shook the air almost instantly, which meant the lightning had hit close by and the storm was right on top of them. The louder and more frequent the thunder, the more frightened Brave would be. And then he’d definitely take off again before they could find him!
This was going to be bad. Very, very bad.
They had to get to Brave.
A desperate bark rang out.
“Go!” Grace said to Dylan. “I’m right behind you.”
Dylan ran toward Brave’s cries faster than he’d ever run in his life.
He was three seconds away.
Two seconds away.
One second away . . . Dylan reached a cluster of rocks that rose high above his head just as Brave let out a desperate, terrified yowl that nearly broke his heart. The yelp sounded so close—he had to be within arm’s reach. But where was he? Dylan couldn’t see him anywhere. The dog’s cries almost seemed to be coming from within the rock itself . . . but how? Dylan followed the sound, scrambling up onto a flat stone and peering down into a dark crevice behind it. In a flash of lightning that illuminated everything, he saw two frightened eyes staring back out at him.
Brave!
The dog stood up on his hind legs and scratched at the slick rock walls, but he couldn’t pull himself out. He had to have fallen into the narrow space and gotten trapped.
Dylan jumped down next to Brave and reached for him just as thunder broke free from the sky. It boomed so loudly Dylan felt it in his whole body. He wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t because he had grabbed hold of the shivering, soaking wet dog.
Dylan pulled Brave in close to his chest as the thunder rumbled around them. He curled himself over the dog to protect him from the sound, the vibration, the rain—everything. Brave sank into his arms, whimpering. Brave’s breath was shallow and rapid, and Dylan could feel his heart pounding through his fur.
“I’ve got you, Brave,” he whispered into the top of the dog’s head. “It’s okay—I’m here now. You’re okay.”
When the thunder finally stopped, Dylan pulled away and checked the dog over. Except for a few brambles in his fur and a serious wet dog smell, Brave seemed unharmed. And now he was safe. Dylan squeezed his eyes shut. He was overcome with emotion, flooded by all the fear that they were never going to find Brave—or wouldn’t find him until it was too late. But soon, as he held his dog tightly, Dylan’s worry was washed away by relief. He buried his face in Brave’s neck.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, buddy,” Dylan said. “And I’m sorry—I never should have brought you out here. I never should have tied you up or made you listen to those fireworks or go anywhere near Jaxon. It’s all my fault—I’ll never do that to you again, I promise. I’m so sorry I lost you.”
“You can give yourself a bit more credit, you know.”
Dylan looked up to see Grace standing on the flat rock above them, staring down at him with a funny look on her face.
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked her.
“I mean you didn’t just lose him—you found him too. Give yourself a little credit.”
Dylan thought about that for a second. Maybe Grace was right. After all they had been through in just a short time—after all the mistakes he’d made—he and Brave were together again. Wasn’t that all that mattered in the end? It seemed like Brave had forgiven him, and Dylan swore to himself that he was never going to let his dog down again.
But Grace was wrong about one thing.
“Correction,” Dylan said to her with a grin. “We found him.”
Before Grace could answer, lightning lit up the dark sky behind her. “Look—” Grace pointed past Dylan to a shallow alcove tucked into the rock—“we can take cover there.” She hopped down and they clambered into the opening just as the thunder bellowed again. The space was more like a wide overhang than a cave, and water dripped down its walls. But it kept them out of the direct rain, and they could all fit.
Dylan held the dog close. It was a relief to get out of the rain and wind, and they sat down on the hard ground and leaned back against the rock surface. Dylan closed his eyes and exhaled, catching his breath. Brave—who still had his leash attached—shifted in Dylan’s arms, spinning around so he could lie down on his lap.
Brave’s trembling began to subside as he settled down, though his ears were up and twitching, still hyperalert. Dylan flinched at one particularly loud crack of thunder, and Brave jumped in his arms, hopping to his feet and barking at the air.
“Easy, boy,” Dylan said soothingly. “Shhhhh.” He stroked Brave’s ears and scratched the top of his head. As the dog slowly stopped shaking, Dylan understood that he had the power to soothe him, just as he had the ability to make him anxious. He needed to stay calm in order to keep Brave calm.
Brave sniffed at Dylan’s cheek, snuffling and snorting, then licked the water off his face. Then he licked Dylan’s ear. Then his nose. Then his forehead. Soon, Brave was up on all fours, his tail wagging a mile a minute as he let Dylan know how happy he was to see him.
“Look how much you’re helping him,” Grace said with a smile. At the sound of her voice, Brave turned his head in her direction and proceeded to lick her face from top to bottom, starting with her chin and making his way up to her forehead. “I love you too, Brave,” she mumbled.
After Brave had run out of surface area to lick, he climbed back into Dylan’s lap, spun around in a circle, and curled up into a tight little ball. Dylan was glad the dog wasn’t freaking out anymore—he hated seeing him that upset. He held Brave close, and Grace huddled in for warmth. They stayed like that, quiet and comfortable and safe for the moment.
“Grace?” Dylan broke the silence.
“Yeah?”
“Brave has gotten so much better,” Dylan said. “But do you think he can ever totally get over his trauma? Like, could he really be calm during a storm?”
Grace thought about it for a second. “He’s made a lot of progress,” she said. “But I don’t know if he’d be this relaxed if you weren’t here. He trusts you.” She paused. “He needs you.”
The feeling, Dylan thought as he pressed his cheek against the top of Brave’s head, was mutual.
After what felt like an hour, the rain and wind began to subside, and the thunder moved farther and farther into the distance. The cloud cover broke open overhead, and a single ray of late-afternoon sunshine burst through. Brave’s head shot up at the sight of it, and his tail began to wag.
“Whewwwww.” Dylan whistled.
“I think it’s over,” Grace said.
“Come on, Brave,” Dylan said, reaching down to scratch the dog under the collar. “Let’s go home.”
★ Chapter 23 ★
* * *
* * *
Dylan didn’t care that his toes were squishing around in his shoes. That his feet were squelching in mud and he was soaked to the bone—or that his ankle was still sore. He didn’t even mind that they had trekked a lot farther than he realized, and it was a long way back to their bikes. He was just so glad to have Brave back that he would happily have traveled twice as far under worse circumstances.
Brave stuck to Dylan like glue. Dylan held on to his leash, but there was no need. Brave trotted right by his leg, and if Dylan slowed down, Brave slowed down. If Dylan stumbled, Brave stopped and nudged him with his snout to be sure he was all right.
“He’s so happy to see you,” Grace said. “I don’t think he’s ever leaving your side again.”
Dylan reached down and scratched Brave under the collar. “Fine with me.” Brave looked up at him lovingly, wagged his tail, and let out a happy bark. Thunder rumbled off in the distance, and Brave’s ears flicked toward the sound. He furrowed his brow with worry, but kept his eyes on Dylan and his tail up.
“I wish he could tell us what happened to him while he was gone,” Dylan said.
“You mean like talk about his feelings?” Grace grinned.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“I can tell you what my feelings are: I’ll be very happy to get back on two wheels,” Grace said as they stepped around large stones and tangled underbrush. “And on solid ground.”
“Me too.”
“Shhh—” Grace held up a hand to shush him.
“Brave, stop,” Dylan said. The three of them stood still.
“What is that?” Grace asked.
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