Digging Deep

by Elena Delle Donne

  Zobe is almost three feet tall and weighs 145 pounds. That’s about right for a Great Dane, but it’s pretty big for a dog. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to adopt him. I’m pretty big for a twelve-year-old human, and I used to feel kind of bad about that. Then I saw Zobe at a pet adoption event, and I fell in love.

  Zobe is an awesome dog, but he’s not perfect. He’s got tons of energy and I make sure he gets plenty of exercise, but he still gets really excited when he’s around small dogs and small kids. He chases them and that can get messy, like when he knocked into the food table on Thanksgiving.

  Dad signed Zobe up for an obedience class on Saturday mornings. I’d gone to the first class, and then Dad agreed I could go to every other one, since my schedule was so busy.

  After two classes Zobe could sit, stay, and come on command. Dad had learned this thing called “loose leash walking,” which is basically a way to walk your dog so that he doesn’t pull you behind him. Dad had showed me, and I’d been trying it out on Zobe. When he pulled, I took a few steps backward and called him to me and gave him a tiny treat. Then we would start walking again. If Zobe pulled again, I would walk backward again—and I kept doing it until Zobe got the idea that it was better to walk alongside me instead of in front of me. It only took a week for him to get the hang of it. But I’m not surprised—he is such a smart dog!

  Even so, as soon as we got to the dog training center, Zobe pulled me forward so he could pounce on Bruiser, a little Chihuahua he’d made friends with on his first day of class.

  “Yip! Yip! Yip!” Bruiser barked, telling Zobe to bug off. I pulled Zobe away.

  “Sit,” I told him, and he obeyed, calmly getting into the sit position. Then I turned to Bruiser’s owner, a gray-haired lady with glasses. “Hi, Betty.”

  “Hello, Elle. It’s nice to see you here with your father again,” she said, with a nod to my dad.

  “Zobe’s been good about pulling,” I said. “But he gets so excited when he sees Bruiser.”

  Valerie, the trainer, overheard us. “It’s really common for dogs to get overexcited, especially energetic dogs like Zobe,” she said. “But there’s a fix for that. Today we’re going to play a fun game of red light, green light that will help our dogs learn impulse control.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Dad said.

  At that moment Zobe sprang up and pounced on Bruiser again, completely covering the dog’s tiny body with his massive one. Bruiser yipped and did a little dance around his legs. I pulled him away again.

  “Oh boy,” I said. “I hope this works!”

  When class started, Valerie had everyone go around and talk about any issues they’d had with their dog during the week. Then we reviewed sit, stay, and come.

  “Now we’re going to play red light, green light,” Valerie announced. “Everybody, line up against that wall.”

  There were seven dogs in the class. Dad, Zobe, and I ended up at the end of the line. Betty and Bruiser were to our right.

  “We’re going to do this off leash,” Valerie began. “When I say, ‘Green light!’ run across the room with your dog. When I yell, ‘Red light!’ stop and ask your dog to sit. Once they sit, give them a treat. That’s your green light to move again, so say, ‘Let’s go!’ and start running again. Then stop when I say, ‘Red light!’ Everybody got it?”

  “Got it!” I said confidently. I smiled at Dad. This was going to be fun.

  “Green light!” Valerie called, and I raced forward with Zobe at my heels.

  “Red light!”

  I stopped. “Sit, Zobe!”

  Zobe skidded to a stop. He circled back and stared at me.

  “Sit!” I repeated.

  His butt touched the ground and I gave him a tiny treat. “Good boy,” I said. “Now let’s go!”

  We had only gone a few steps when Valerie called out “Red light!” again. This time Zobe came to a stop a little quicker. I repeated with the treat, the praise, and then we turned around and headed back toward Dad.

  We stopped two more times on the way back, and by the fourth “Red light!” Zobe was going into a sit position without me even asking him to. I couldn’t believe it.

  “You try it,” I told Dad. “Zobe’s doing great.”

  “I can see that,” Dad said, and he ran forward. “Come on, Zobe!”

  Dad took Zobe from one end of the room and back, and Zobe sat calmly on every “Red light” command. I was impressed . . . until they came back and Zobe, who was off leash, pounced on Bruiser again.

  “Zobe, sit!” I commanded.

  To my horror, Zobe started to sit down on top of Bruiser!

  “Zobe, no!” I cried, but the little dog managed to scoot out of the way before Zobe landed on him.

  Betty laughed. “Zobe may be bigger, but Bruiser is faster,” she said. “I think it’s very sweet the way they get along. Almost like they’re brothers.”

  “I can’t imagine what their parents would look like,” Dad joked.

  After the game we practiced loose leash walking, and Valerie was very impressed with Zobe’s progress. That made me feel proud.

  When class was over, Dad dropped me off by the library in downtown Greenmont to meet Avery. There’s a small park there with a fountain, and a lot of kids hang out there.

  Avery walked up to the car. “My mom’s going to give us a ride home, Mr. Deluca,” she said.

  “Great,” Dad said. “See you later, Elle.”

  Zobe said good-bye to me too. “Woof!”

  “Can we go to Suddenly Salad?” Avery asked as Dad drove away. “I’m starving.”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  We walked down the street toward the block of small shops and restaurants. With Christmas a week and a half away, the sidewalks were crowded with shoppers. Green wreaths hung from the posts of the street lights. And all the store windows were decorated for the holidays, with snowflakes, elves, and menorahs.

  Suddenly Salad was packed, but we managed to find a small table by the window after we got our food.

  “Congratulations on winning yesterday,” Avery said.

  “Thanks,” I replied. And then I blurted out what had been on my mind for days. “Listen, I know it’s weird that I’m playing with another team. I still don’t know if I made the right choice. But I’m having a good time. And it’s only for a few weeks. After that I’ll probably leave the team, but I’m not sure.”

  “How is Coach Patel?” Avery asked. “More chill than Coach Ramirez?”

  “Definitely more chill,” I replied. “The whole team is way more relaxed. But still serious about the game at the same time, if you know what I mean.”

  Avery nodded. “I do. Bianca is definitely not relaxed since you’ve been gone. She’s been acting like a second coach, giving everyone critiques and, like, telling people what to do.”

  I frowned. “Sorry to hear that.”

  Avery shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re happy, Elle.”

  “I am,” I said. “I mean, I miss you and everybody else on the team—well, everybody except Bianca. But I don’t miss the pressure from Coach. And I like having time to do extra stuff, like the Buddy Club.”

  Avery smiled. “What’s that like?”

  “It’s pretty good so far,” I said. “We talked about how reaching out to people who need friends is one way to stop bullying before it starts. It got me thinking about Patrice.”

  “Patrice?” Avery asked.

  “Yeah, I mean, she’s on the team, but she isn’t close friends with anybody,” I said. “Even at lunch, she’s really quiet. I was thinking maybe we need to, you know, see if she wants to hang out or something.”

  “That’s a nice idea,” Avery said. “Sure, I’d do that.”

  “Cool,” I said. “I’ll text her.”

  I texted Patrice, and then Avery and I got quiet for a little bit, eating our salads. Then Avery said, “Can we stop in Connie’s Chocolates after this? I got Hannah for Secret Santa, and you know what a sweet tooth she ha
s.”

  I’d forgotten about the basketball team tradition of Secret Santa. Everybody picked a random teammate and got them a gift. Then, at the team holiday party, you gave your gift and found out who your Secret Santa was. I got a little pang, knowing I’d miss that this year.

  Avery must have seen the look on my face. “Hey, you should come to the party! Everybody would love to see you.”

  “Everybody?” I asked.

  Avery bit her lip. “Well, maybe not Bianca. And I’m not sure about Hannah and Natalie. . . .”

  “They’ve been acting weird around me lately, and even ignoring me,” I said. “Are they mad at me?”

  Avery shrugged. “I think their feelings are hurt that you’re hanging out with the volleyball girls. They feel like you ditched them as friends.”

  “But that’s not true!” I said. “They’re still my friends!”

  “I know that, but that’s just how they feel,” Avery said. “They were mad that you didn’t sit with us at the pizza place yesterday.”

  “But my team won the game! That’s a tradition. You know that,” I said.

  “I do,” Avery said. “That’s why you should come to the party. They miss you.”

  I shook my head. “But I shouldn’t go to the party. I’m not a part of the team anymore. I can still be their friend, even if I’m not on the team.”

  Avery frowned. “I guess,” she said. “But will you have time? Maybe you should make plans with them separately.”

  “I could try to do that,” I agreed. I gulped down the last cherry tomato in my bowl. “Come on, let’s go to Connie’s.”

  Connie’s Chocolates might be the happiest place in the world. A crowd of little kids stood in front of the window, watching a moving display of elves making chocolate bars. One elf stirred a pot of chocolate, another elf put the finished bars on a conveyer belt, and the third took them off the conveyor belt and put them in a little wrapped gift box.

  Avery and I stopped and watched.

  “They’re so cute!” I said, staring at the elves.

  “And hypnotic,” she added, taking me by the arm.

  Inside, chocolate candy filled gleaming glass display cases. Strands of tiny white lights twinkled on the ceiling. One case held chocolates shaped like almost everything you could imagine, from animals to vehicles to people.

  “Hannah loves the chocolate-covered peanuts,” Avery said.

  I walked toward the display case of shaped chocolate. “Maybe I should get something too.”

  Every year I get something for my sister and brother, my parents, and my grandparents, and I never know what to get! I don’t know why’d I’d never thought about getting chocolate before. It’s delicious, everybody loves it, and it won’t sit on a shelf getting dusty like the World’s Greatest Dad statue I’d gotten my father when I was nine.

  I stared at the shapes. There were so many! Right away I saw a dog that looked like Zobe, which would be perfect for Beth. A chocolate football for Jim. A chocolate Santa for my dad, who loves Christmas. For mom, a chocolate butterfly, because it was so pretty. And chocolate reindeers for Grandma and Grandpa.

  Avery came by while the clerk behind the counter was packing up my chocolates and putting them into boxes.

  “Elle! Are you buying the whole store?” she asked.

  “I wish I could,” I said. “These are awesome gifts.”

  “I know, they’re so cute!” Avery agreed. “Look at that little unicorn. Adorbs!”

  Then she got distracted by the stuffed animal display in the center of the room. “Oh, look! I see something for my little cousin!”

  She darted away. I leaned in to the counter clerk.

  “Can I also get the unicorn, please?” I whispered.

  The clerk gave me a funny look, but she picked up the unicorn out of the case and put her in a small white box before Avery returned.

  “Do you want anything else?” the clerk asked.

  “Um, can I get two chocolate mint patties, please?” I asked.

  The clerk moved to the case of assorted chocolates and put two patties in a little bag for me. I was paying for my order when Avery approached me.

  “All checked out,” she said, holding up her bag.

  “Me too,” I said, taking the bag from the counter clerk. I reached in, took out the two chocolate mint patties, and handed one to Avery.

  “Aw,” she said. “Remember the first time we came here, when we were, like, six, and Mom bought these for us?”

  “I do,” I said.

  We both bit into ours at the same time, and the icy cold mint tickled the roof of my mouth.

  “Brain freeze!” we said at the same time—just like we had when we were six years old, and every time we’d bitten into a chocolate mint patty since.

  We started giggling, and right then I knew that everything was cool with Avery, and always would be.

  The rest of the Nighthawks . . . well, I wasn’t so sure about that.

  6

  Patrice Has a Problem

  Zobe, you’re not helping,” I scolded. I was trying to vacuum the living room, but Zobe kept jumping in front of the vacuum cleaner and barking at it.

  “Elle, keep him in your room until you’re done!” Dad called from the kitchen.

  I turned off the vacuum cleaner and sighed. “Fine. Come on, Zobe.”

  I ran upstairs and Zobe raced after me, nearly knocking me down. He started whimpering as soon as I closed the door.

  “Just a few minutes, I promise!” I told him.

  I raced downstairs and finished up vacuuming just as the doorbell rang. I ran to answer it.

  “Hey, guys!” I told Avery and Patrice. “Come on in.”

  “Mmm, something smells good in here,” Avery said, sniffing the air. “That has to be your dad’s famous spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “You know it is,” I replied. “Dinner’s ready in about an hour. Want to hang in my room?”

  The day before, Patrice had answered my text and said she was cool with getting together. So I asked Mom if Avery and Patrice could come over for Sunday dinner. Dad cooks up a huge Italian meal every week, and there’s always enough for any guests who stop by. I’d wanted to fit in a doggy date with Amanda and Freckles that day too, but Amanda had to go to her grandmother’s house after the basketball game that morning.

  I’d also meant to make plans with Natalie and Hannah, but that would have to wait. I was glad that I could finally hang out with Patrice, like I’d been meaning to.

  The three of us headed up to my room, and I opened the door, forgetting that Zobe was in there. He bounded out and knocked right into Patrice with his two front paws!

  “Zobe, stop! I mean, red light!” I shouted. “I mean, SIT!”

  Thankfully, Zobe sat.

  “Patrice, meet Zobe,” I said.

  She scratched the top of his head. “Hey there, boy,” she said, and she was smiling, which is not something you usually see Patrice do.

  “Come on in,” I said.

  I grabbed some pillows from my bed and threw them on the floor. I sat down, leaning back against the bed. Avery sat cross-legged on one of the pillows with her back perfectly straight (her mom’s a yoga teacher, so she does a lot of yoga), and Patrice picked up a pillow and clutched it to her chest as she sat down. Patrice has black hair that she wears pulled back, even when she’s not playing basketball, and really dark, intense eyes.

  “So, how was the game today?” I asked.

  “We lost,” Avery reported. “By six points.”

  “That’s pretty close,” I said, but I knew from experience that close wasn’t the same as winning.

  “I missed an easy layup,” Patrice said. “I’m going to hear it from Mom at practice tomorrow.”

  “It must be hard having your mom as coach,” I said.

  She nodded. “Yeah, it is. I think she’s a lot harder on me than everyone else. I tried to quit that one time but . . .”

  “She wouldn’t let you?” Ave
ry asked.

  Patrice shook her head. “Nope. I mean, I love basketball, so I didn’t really want to quit. It’ll be easier when I’m on the high school team. I just have to stick with it.”

  Then she looked at me. “Why exactly did you quit? I know Mom was tough on you, too. Is that it? Or were you just sick of basketball?”

  I couldn’t help thinking that Patrice was more talkative than I’d ever known her to be.

  “It was a lot of things,” I answered her. “I wanted to see what else was out there. I still like basketball. Maybe I even love it. But yeah, your mom being tough on me was part of it. And Bianca didn’t help either.”

  Patrice nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

  She shifted position on the floor, and she winced, like she was in pain.

  “You okay?” I asked. “Did you hurt yourself on the court?”

  “No, it’s weird,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling good since the summer. Like, I get headaches a lot, and I’m tired all the time. And my knees and my elbows hurt for no reason.”

  Avery frowned. “That sounds serious, Patrice. What does your mom say?”

  Patrice bit her lip. “I haven’t told her. She’ll just think I’m trying to get out of basketball if I do.”

  “You should talk to her,” I said. “I know your mom is a tough coach, but she’d want to know if you’re feeling sick.”

  Patrice sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “So, hey, what are you doing over the break?” Avery asked, changing the subject. We talked about normal stuff for a while, and then Dad called us down to dinner.

  We headed to the dining room, and I introduced Patrice to the rest of the family: Dad, Beth, Jim, and Jim’s girlfriend, Alyssa. Dad had made a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs, plus garlic bread, salad, and sautéed broccoli rabe. Avery knelt down in front of Beth and let Beth sniff her head. Avery signed “hello” into Beth’s hand, and my sister smiled.

  “Is that how you say hi?” Patrice asked.

  “Beth knows us by our scent,” I explained. “Avery’s been around for so long that Beth knows hers, too.”