by Caleb Huett
Tonio came home exhausted. He returned his box of cards to its precarious position at the top of the stack and fell into his desk chair with a heavy thwump.
I thought he’d be happy. He’d spent the whole day with someone who might be a friend! But he didn’t seem excited. He just looked totally worn out. Not the good kind of tired, like when you just want to spin around in three circles and lie down anywhere, but the kind where I was pretty sure he was thinking about something too hard.
Oh, right, I thought. He hasn’t even had time to think about what his mom said about moving yet. Today was a long day.
After about half an hour of drawing, Tonio got up and walked back downstairs to turn off the movie his parents had fallen asleep watching. A nudge got them to stumble over to their bedroom, and on the way, Mrs. Pulaski pointed at the fridge. A magnet held a folded piece of paper and a sticky note in her handwriting that said Tonio—Devin Wilkins (I think?) came by while you were gone. Left this for you.
That set his heart pounding immediately. The folded paper dangled from his fingertips like a tissue someone else had sneezed in. Back in his room, he carefully unfolded it on his desk. I couldn’t see what was on it from my four-legged spot on the carpet, but whatever it was definitely didn’t improve his mood. He threw it away, then threw himself onto the bed. I hopped up to curl against his side.
His eyes drilled a hole in the wall, and I imagined him repeating that memory of yearbook signing over and over in his mind. After several minutes of staring, he rolled over to look at me, face clenched in focus. “I was fine, at school, until him,” he said.
Talking was a challenge. He was trying, hard, to do what Dr. Jake had said to do—talk to me. Use me as a sounding board. I locked my eyes on him and tried to look encouraging. He continued. “I think it was okay because nothing ever changed. All my classes had pretty much the same kids. I knew the teachers because my parents know everybody.” He rubbed at his eyes.
“And then Devon showed up last summer, and Sloan left over Christmas, and it was like …” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to form a picture in his mind. “Like opening a book I’d read a million times, but starting it and finding out everything was different.”
I wished Tonio would talk like this to Dr. Jake. I was sure the doctor would have something interesting to say about it, or some way to help Tonio understand how he was feeling. All I could do was sit and listen.
“Miles and Parker weren’t even mean before! They were kind of loud, but they weren’t bullies until Devon moved in. And it was like that one thing changed everything. I didn’t know how to talk to anybody anymore. What if they paid attention and noticed that I’m not … that I’m …” He shook his head and swallowed the thought.
“I know it’s not Devon’s fault. But I can’t talk to him unless I tell him the truth. And if I tell him the truth now, he’ll see that nobody tried to help him, especially not me!” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes again. “He’ll have to go back to school knowing that he can’t trust anybody. He’ll hate me.”
If that were me, I thought, I’d want to know. Tonio’s anxiety was trying to convince him that he could read Devon’s mind, that the bullies’ actions were his responsibility, AND that he could tell the future.
Tonio sighed. “Maybe we should just move.” I rested my muzzle on his side and huffed, because I couldn’t do anything else. He reached up to scratch me around my collar, but I barely even leaned into it. “Thanks for listening, Buster.”
But I’m not helping! I wanted to yell. I kept thinking about this while Tonio got ready for bed, then fell asleep. Once I heard his breathing settle into a sleeping rhythm, I gently rolled off the bed and made my way over to the trash can.
Devon’s paper was a flyer for a Beamblade tournament at Roll the Ice. Standard Rules, Ancient Cards Allowed, Three-Hundred-Dollar Prize! it yelled with garish 3D text. LEGENDARY Battles! AWESOME Refreshments! EPIC Inclusive Environment for All Ages and Skill Levels! GOTTA BLADE!
At the bottom was a sticky note covered in cute, bubbly handwriting:
Hiya, Tonio! I hope you’re feeling better—Skyler said you got sick or something because of the ice cream. I hope it’s the ice cream, and not looking at my face! (ha, ha.) (but if it is looking at my face you’d let me know, right?) Anyway I wanted since you left and didn’t get to play Beabl Beamblade with us, I thought you might want to come to this instead. Maybe if you feel better? I hope you can read this, I wrote too big at the beginning and now I’m not even sure I can read these tiny letters. –DW
There was an arrow pointing to the back. I unstuck the note with my nose to flip it over onto its back. That stands for Devon Wilcrest!!!!
I knew if Tonio was going to go back to school, he needed to talk to Devon and tell him the truth. I could help both of them if I could figure out how to get Tonio to the tournament.
All of a sudden, I had a plan. I triple-checked that Tonio was sleeping, then nudged the power button on his computer with my nose. I hopped up onto his desk chair, but the force of my jump wheeled it away from the desk, so I had to reach my front paws down on the floor and walk my way back over. Another bump with my nose turned on the monitor.
Human computers are so hard to use. I slapped at the mouse clumsily until I opened up the browser, then input the secret codes we all know by heart, no need to repeat them, to log into the Bark Web. A few clicks navigated me to the DogHouse chat rooms, and I checked my list of friends. Since it was still early in the night, I figured most dogs wouldn’t be online—but if there was one person I could count on to always be logged on …
WELCOME TO THE DOGHOUSE V.3.9:
WHO LET THE DOGS IN? WE DID.
CREATING PRIVATE ROOM …
INVITING SELECTED FRIENDS …
NICE! CONNECTED. USERS IN ROOM:
FireBuster, dotpng
dotpng: what
dotpng: hello
FireBuster: hwlko jhp[eg, 8i aMUsinbg a jhum,an cxomp0uterr.
dotpng: lol omd
dotpng: are you using a smartphone
dotpng: is the keyboard six inches wide
dotpng: how are you so bad at this
FireBuster: wwhgat dsoes ommds m eewan/
dotpng: it means oh my dog
dotpng: i made it up
dotpng: here i have a program that will help correct your typing
dotpng: you’ll get a popup in a second just click yes
FireBuster: wk
FireBuster: sdkfjldlsfan
dotpng: haha just kidding it makes it worse
FireBuster: bu
dotpng: and it presses enter at random times, hahahahaha
FireBuster:
dotpng: here this one actually will help
dotpng: omd i can’t believe you clicked it again
FireBuster: 2lvbv
dotpng: those clowns are pretty scary though huh lmto
dotpng: that stands for laughing my tail off. i made that one up too
dotpng: sorry i scared you with a clown video
dotpng: i know i’m the wolf who cried boy rn but you can really click the next one
FireBuster: .,..,.,.
dotpng: haha im sirius
dotpng: get it? the dog star
dotpng: i guess you wouldn’t know but dog puns are cool again
dotpng: basically just use one paw to hit the keyboard and the other to hit the space bar to confirm which letter you meant
dotpng: it’s kinda slow but you’ll get used to it
FireBuster: Thank you, Jpeg. This helps a lot. I am messaging you because I want to tell you about something.
dotpng: ok
dotpng: one second i have to hack into the united states government
dotpng: im in
dotpng: ok what’s up
FireBuster: There is a Beamblade tournament at Roll the Ice in a week.
dotpng: the card game?
dotpng: what about it
dotpng: also I don’t
think you appreciated my joke enough
dotpng: i said i hacked into a whole government
dotpng: while you were typing one single sentence at the speed of three grandpas all trying to type at the same time
dotpng: (which makes them slower)
dotpng: i really did hack into the government though
FireBuster: It has a 300 dollar prize, and I know y’all have been looking for ways to help Mia make money.
dotpng: no wag
dotpng: (as in way)
dotpng: (ok that one was weak)
dotpng: i don’t think mia knows how to play BB though
dotpng: oh wait i get it
dotpng: your boy does. the one who always looks like he’s trying to chew with his eyebrows
FireBuster: I think it could be good for both of them. And it’s easier than trying to find a secret way to give her your money.
dotpng: you’re right about that
dotpng: she doesn’t have a bank account, and ive only really got bitecoin anyway
dotpng: ok i found the flyer on their website
dotpng: ill print it out and try to put it somewhere, but no guarantees
dotpng: she kinda does what she wants
FireBuster: The scary clown video just popped up again! It’s not funny!
dotpng: hahahahahahahaha yeah dude you should stop clicking strangers’ links
FireBuster: You’re not a stranger!!!!!
“Buster?” I was surprised by a soft voice from behind me. Oh no! Tonio! I had to think fast.
“Wuh—uh, wuh—” he sputtered.
Even being around a moment like this was bad news for me. I’d already been to Dog Court once already. If Tonio realized what he was seeing, I’d be …
Well, I’d be here. Telling this story. But I didn’t get caught this time.
As soon as I realized what was happening I started acting wild, barking and jumping. I grabbed the keyboard with my mouth and tugged it to the floor with a growl. “RRR!” I roared. “RRRRRR, I’m just a DUMB DOG who HATES COMPUTERS!”
“Hey, uh, down! Down, dog!” Tonio wasn’t used to giving real commands. He lifted both hands awkwardly and twisted his wrists while taking slow steps toward me. “Don’t break the computer, please!”
“What IS THIS THING?!” I ran around to the power cord and pulled it away from the wall, hopefully in a way that looked like an accident, to wipe everything from the screen. “WHATEVER IT IS, I HATE IT!”
“Buster, no. Down! Bad dog!” That was what I was waiting to hear. Tonio thought I was just a bad dog, doing something random that an animal does. He plugged the computer back in and picked the flyer off the floor. He looked at me with a wary expression, clearly concerned with how this particular paper ended up outside the trash can and uncrumpled.
“What are you doing?” he asked. I couldn’t meet his eyes, so I pretended to suddenly be very interested in sniffing his shoes. “Hello?”
He got back in bed and stared at me. I curled up by the window and pretended to have one of those running dreams, but my heart was pounding until he finally fell asleep.
“RING, RING!” Mia threw open the bedroom door before either of us was awake the next morning.
“The front door was unlocked,” she explained when our eyes were open.
Tonio blinked at her, groggy. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.” A quick pat on my sleepy head. “Hey, Buster.” I yawned gratefully. She held out a copy of the tournament flyer while Tonio sat up, clutching his blanket up to his throat like a princess in a movie. “Have you seen this?”
“Devon gave you one, too?”
“What? No. It was sitting on top of the food I give the dogs. Three hundred dollars! Just for playing a game!”
“Winning a game,” Tonio corrected.
Mia waved her hands around dismissively. “I saw the word Beamblade in your journal a lot.” She grabbed a shirt from Tonio’s closet and threw it for him to catch.
“How much of my sketchbook did you—”
“You have to teach me!” She opened one of his drawers—much to Tonio’s dismay—and rummaged through it. “Do you only own cargo shorts?”
I watched horror crawl across his face. “Are cargo shorts … bad?”
“This is Bellville. How many people are actually going to compete, like four?” She threw one of his identical pairs of shorts onto the bed. “If we both enter, that’s twice the chance of winning.”
Tonio tossed the blanket off and found a bandanna to push his morning hair back. “The rules are all on the internet.”
“I guess, but I can’t practice on the internet. And I want to win the tournament, like you said. So I need more than just to know the rules.” Mia sat on his windowsill and looked out over Bellville Square. “Plus, I looked it up, and Beamblade cards cost money, which is ridiculous. I thought you’d probably have some.”
Yes! I thought. They’ll practice together and become better friends. And then he won’t have to be scared of talking to Devon. Everything’s working out exactly like I planned!
“I don’t have any cards,” Tonio confessed. Her face fell, and his eyes widened. He didn’t want to disappoint her. “But my dad does, I think. In storage.”
“That’s perfect! Where is he? Let’s go ask him.”
Tonio’s eyes worked on finding the exact corners of his room. “He’s busy, at work, so I don’t really want to bother him …”
Finally, Mia noticed how uncomfortable he was acting. “What’s your deal?” she asked. “I thought you liked Beamblade.”
“I do.” His hands clenched the fabric on the inside of his (huge) pockets. “But I can’t do the tournament.”
“Why not?”
“My anxiety.”
“Still?”
Tonio was so surprised at her response that he half laughed.
“Uh, yeah. I guess, still.” He could tell she wanted more, so he looked for a clearer explanation. “I just can’t. Devon will be there, and I don’t want to … you know.”
Mia nodded seriously. “You don’t want to give him another Mountain Dew bath.”
Tonio gasped. “I co—I didn—I do not drink Mountain Dew!”
“Okay.” Mia walked through the open doorway and started down the stairs while she continued. Tonio had no real choice but to follow her, and I stuck to his heels. “I get that. Totally. So you don’t have to do the tournament! I’ll actually play. You’ll supply the cards and teach me. I won’t split it fifty-fifty with you anymore, of course, but I’m sure we can work something out.”
Tonio paused at their front door—her intent was obviously to go straight down to the grocery and ask Mr. Pulaski, but Tonio wasn’t sure.
“Come on!” Mia put on a pair of sunglasses and tucked her hands into the pockets of her jean shorts. “There’s gotta be something you need money for, right? Something hopefully a lot less expensive than three hundred dollars?”
He does, I thought, and I watched him realize it, too.
“There’s this card—”
“Perfect!” She grinned. “Let’s go find your dad.”
“Welcome, traveler, to the groceries of tomorrow!”
A short fiberglass man in a cartoonish space suit held a ray gun above his head but wasn’t looking where he was pointing it. Dangerous. I could tell his smile used to be as bright white as his spandex, but a thin layer of grime had settled over it in the—I gave a long sniff—more than ten years it had been there.
A few feet away from the welcoming spaceman was a silver UFO with a green plastic “tractor beam” dangling fresh peaches in a way that made them look like they were being lifted from the basket. OUT OF THIS WORLD PRICES, a sparkling sign proclaimed.
The building was unusually dark for a grocery store. Tonio’s dad had stuck to the sci-fi theme so tightly that most of the lighting was LED strips and black lights. An electric globe hung from the ceiling, and the oceans beamed a soft white glow around the cat food and laundry detergent.
>
Mr. Pulaski wasn’t working the registers, but he wasn’t difficult to find. He was more than happy to unlock the storeroom for us to get his old cards.
“Your cards are all called ancient cards now,” Mia told him.
Mr. Pulaski made a face like he’d been punched in the stomach. “They’re already ancient?”
Mia pulled down a box that he pointed at. “Luckily, this tournament allows them. Even the extremely old ones like these.”
Tonio patted his dad on the back and tried to soothe his distress. “You’re not that old, Dad. They just use that word because it sounds cool.”
While they looked through the storeroom to find all the cards they could from Mr. Pulaski’s college years, I had my mind on other things: a plan to prove to Tonio, once and for all, that I was just a normal dog.
So far I had made two big mistakes. One: I’d given myself away a little too much when we were in training. Two: I’d let Tonio see me on the computer. The first one I had to do, but the second was a real problem. I had made a mistake, and I did not want to go back to Dog Court. No offense.
Tonio was a smart kid, and if he connected the dots, I’d be in trouble. To keep everything under control, I needed to break out the Big Three: mail, toilet, and chocolate. As you probably know, the Big Three are the easiest and most reliable way to prove to a human that there’s nothing to be worried about from us dogs. Just in case you didn’t learn it in puppy school, I’ll explain.
One: barking at the mail carrier. There’s no reason to bark at any mail worker once you know they’re perfectly nice people just doing their jobs, so it stands to reason that any dog barking at the mailman must not understand things like jobs or nice or mail. They must just be a dog, and not someone who won a prestigious award from the Dog community for their book of original poetry.
Two: drinking from the toilet. An act so utterly disgusting, so completely demeaning, that someone would only do this if they were absolutely desperate or didn’t understand what a toilet was. That’s another strong point toward “I’m a dog,” and a strong point away from “I have the equivalent of a human master’s degree in civil engineering.”