Nowhere to Turn

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Nowhere to Turn Page 3

by Norah McClintock


  “It’s nothing,” I yelled back to Glen. “I just tripped, that’s all.” I turned back to Nick. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Things were going so well for you! You had your own place. You had a job. You were in school. What happened?”

  He glanced at my ring again. His eyes drilled into me.

  “When did you start seeing that guy?” he said.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. When?”

  “You weren’t here, Nick. You left, remember?”

  “I would have waited for you, Robyn.”

  “Then why did you—” Morgan began. She stopped when Nick and I both spun around to look at her. “You begged me to come, Robyn,” she pointed out. I gave her another look. “Fine,” she said. She retreated to the other room, dropped down onto the sofa, and made a big show of zipping her lips.

  I turned back to Nick. Just seeing him brought back all the pain I had felt.

  “I would never have left you the way you left me,” I said. “Not for anything.”

  He stared angrily at me. Unless one of us calmed down, this was going to end up in a fight.

  “We both did what we did,” I continued. “I didn’t come to talk about the past. I came because Beej said you were in trouble and because we used to be friends.”

  “Friends?” he said. “Is that what we were?” He shook his head. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Come on, Nick. If you didn’t do what they say you did—”

  “If?”

  “Five minutes are up!” Glen bellowed from upstairs.

  I didn’t move. “You know what I mean. If there’s anything I can do—”

  Nick stared at me for what seemed like a full minute. “You want to be a friend?” He spat out the word. “You want to do something? Okay. You can tell Mr. Schuster it wasn’t me. And you can make sure that Orion is okay.” I caught a flicker of anguish in his eyes. “Elliot had the phone in his hand, Robyn. He was going to call Animal Control. He was ready to have Orion taken away. But it wasn’t his fault. She should have known better.”

  I took a step toward him. Suddenly all I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But he ducked back out of my reach and his face grew hard again.

  “You think you can do that for me, friend?” he said.

  I heard footsteps on the basement stairs. Morgan touched my arm.

  “We should go,” she said.

  I nodded. Tears stung my eyes, but I fought them back as I turned away from him.

  “Hey, Robyn?” Nick said.

  I turned back.

  “Things would never have worked out with us anyway. You and I live in different worlds. Beej is more my type.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I

  couldn’t get those words out of my mind: Beej is more my type.

  “You think he’s seeing that Beej person?” Morgan said as we walked to the bus stop. “You think that’s why she wants to help him so badly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he was seeing her while he was still seeing you? I mean, he told her he was leaving town. And they hooked up when he got back.”

  “I said I don’t know, Morgan!” I snapped.

  She was silent for a few moments. Then: “Well, it sounds like Billy was right—Nick saw Ben give you that ring.”

  I felt Ben’s ring burning into my skin as she spoke. On Valentine’s Day, Ben had taken me to a nice restaurant, where we’d had a table by the window. While we were sitting there, Ben had presented me with a small box, lifted the ring out, and slipped it onto my finger. Later, I’d found out that Billy had spotted Nick standing across the street from that same restaurant. Billy said he was pretty sure that Nick had been staring at us.

  “What are you going to do?” Morgan said.

  “About what?”

  “About Nick.”

  “Who says I’m going to do anything?”

  She sighed. “You can kid yourself if you want to, Robyn. But you can’t kid me. Right this minute you’re thinking about what you can do to help him. You’re probably even thinking that if you do help him, maybe the two of you can get back together.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “You heard what he said. I’m not his type. Besides, I’m with Ben now.”

  “So you’re not going to help him? You’re not going to do anything?”

  “I’m going to be a friend,” I said. “I’m going to do what he asked. I’m going to talk to Mr. Schuster.”

  “Uh-huh. Are you going to tell Ben?”

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “You want me to go with you?” Morgan said after a few moments of silence.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea how sick Mr. Schuster is or whether I’ll even be able to see him. I’ll meet you back at the library, okay?”

  But that wasn’t the real reason I wanted to go to Mr. Schuster’s house alone. The truth was, I wanted to find out what was going on and—Morgan was right—I wanted to help Nick. I’d made up my mind after watching Beej’s DVD. I wanted to help him despite what he thought about me, because it just didn’t add up.

  Nick had been in trouble before, almost always because he had difficulty controlling his temper. And sure, sometimes when his temper got the better of him, he did incredibly stupid things. But no matter how much I thought about it, there was no way I could believe that he would steal from Mr. Schuster.

  But—and this was a big but—the police had caught Nick with part of Mr. Schuster’s stolen coin collection. Something was going on, something that threatened to get Nick locked up.

  Morgan was right about something else too. I told myself it would never happen. I told myself I didn’t even want it to happen—that if Nick didn’t want me, then I didn’t want him, either. But a part of me—I told myself it was just a tiny, silly part—pictured Nick and me together again.

  I made a stop on my way to Mr. Schuster’s house. As I climbed the steps to his front porch, I was clutching a small paper bag from Kanine Kookies.

  A girl about my age swung open the inner door. She seemed surprised to see me.

  “Is Mr. Schuster home?” I said.

  She peered out uncertainly.

  “My name is Robyn,” I said. “I volunteered with Mr. Schuster at the animal shelter last summer.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Grandpa told me about you.”

  “He did?”

  “Before he got sick, he used to e-mail me almost every day. That’s how we stay in touch.”

  From somewhere deep inside the house, I heard the rumbling roowf-roowf of a large dog. The girl looked apprehensively over her shoulder. When she turned back to me, her face was white. She looked as terrified as I must have the first time I laid eyes on Schuster’s big black dog.

  “Is that Orion?” I said, trying to keep my voice light. I have a long and deep-seated fear of dogs. It shouldn’t have applied to Orion—after all, I knew him. But I had been alone with him exactly once, months ago.

  The girl nodded. “He bit my mom, so my dad put him in the basement. But I don’t think he likes it down there.”

  The girl shook her head. “Grandpa e-mailed me all about Orion. He told me he was a big dog. But I never realized how big until we got here after Grandpa had his stroke. My mother said his last owner gave him to the shelter because he’s vicious.”

  “He had some behavior problems,” I admitted. “But he was in a special program at the shelter, and he graduated with flying colors. If he bit your mother, it was probably because he was scared or startled. But he’s friendly once you get to know him.”

  “You mean, you’re not afraid of him?” the girl said.

  I took my chance to do at least part of what Nick had asked—to check on Orion.

  “No, I’m not,” I said. I tried to sound matter-of-fact about it.

  The girl looked at me with new interest.

  “My name is Isobel,” she said. “Could you wait here
for a minute?” She left the inside door open and ran up the stairs. She was back a few moments later. “Grandpa really wants to see Orion. Do you think you could bring him upstairs?”

  “Sure,” I said, as if it would be no problem at all. But my heart pounded in my chest. What if Orion didn’t listen to me? What if being locked in the basement all this time had made him forget what Mr. Schuster and Nick had taught him?

  Isobel stood back to let me inside. I pulled off my boots as Orion’s throaty roowf filled the house.

  “He barks a lot,” Isobel said. “My dad says it’s driving him crazy.”

  “Does anyone take him out for walks?”

  Isobel shook her head. “We’re all afraid to go near him.” She pointed at the door to the basement. “My dad put a barrier at the bottom of the stairs so that he can take food and water downstairs without Orion charging at him.” She looked at me again. “Are you sure you want to go down there?”

  I was nowhere close to sure. But I had decided to do what Nick had asked, no matter what he thought of me. And if I got a chance to see Mr. Schuster, too, maybe I could even start to get an idea of exactly what had happened.

  I opened the Kanine Kookies bag and pulled out a gourmet dog biscuit. Nick used to buy them for Orion when he could afford to. I looked at the basement door and tried to remember everything Nick had told me about dogs in general and about Orion in particular.

  First, he had said, dogs get to know people by their scent. Once dogs get to know someone, they remember that person. So theoretically, Orion should remember me.

  Second, Nick had said that Orion was really a big softy. If he didn’t sense that you were afraid—fear put him on his guard—and if you talked softly but firmly to him, he would be fine. If you approached him with his favorite treat and let him smell that too, he would be your friend for life.

  I wasn’t exactly eager to put this to the test. But I trusted Nick about Orion, even if I didn’t always trust him about other things.

  I reached for the doorknob.

  “Wait,” Isobel cried from the front hall. “The light switch is just inside the door to the left.”

  My knees trembled. My heart hammered. But I forced myself to smile—as if that would convince Orion I wasn’t afraid—and opened the door. The barking below grew more frantic. From the landing, stairs continued down into the darkness. I switched on the light. That must have surprised Orion because he was quiet for a moment. Then he started barking louder than ever.

  “Hey, Orion,” I said softly. A large piece of plywood had been positioned across the bottom of the stairs. That may have made Elliot Schuster and his family feel safe, but as I crept down toward the barking, I thought about Orion’s point of view. Someone had imprisoned him down there, away from his master, away from his regular life. I sure hoped he wouldn’t blame me for keeping him locked up.

  Roowf-roowf-roowf. . .blam!

  What the—? I froze.

  Blam!

  Orion was hurling himself against the plywood barrier. I caught a glimpse of his wild yellow eyes. My instinct was to run back up the stairs and slam the door behind me. But I stayed where I was. Think of Orion, I told myself. Think how he must feel.

  I drew in a trembling breath and spoke Orion’s name again while I continued down the stairs. When I got close to the barrier, I extended a trembling hand so that he could catch my scent. I prayed that he wouldn’t try to take a chunk out of me. He kept barking, but he sounded slightly less frenzied.

  “Hey, Orion,” I repeated—soothingly, I hoped. “Hey, boy.” Holding my breath, I did what I had seen Nick do a hundred times before. I let him sniff me. Only after that did I reach over the barrier. My fingers grazed Orion’s head and I began to scratch behind his left ear. Nick had said he loved that. He was right. Orion stopped barking.

  “Good boy,” I cooed. “Look what I have for you.” I held out the dog biscuit. Orion looked at me, waiting for the signal that Nick always gave him. I nodded. He grabbed the biscuit out of my hand and crunched it. His tail began to wag. “Good dog,” I said, reaching over to scratch behind his ear again. This time he didn’t bark. I began to believe that I, the most dog-phobic person I knew, could actually handle this beast.

  “Sit,” I said, gently but firmly, like I’d heard Nick do dozens of times.

  To my surprise, the big dog plopped down onto his rear end.

  I glanced around and saw a leash hanging from a hook on the wall. I grabbed it, leaned over the barricade, and attached it to Orion’s collar.

  “Stay,” I said. Orion watched me with eager eyes but remained seated as I slid the heavy plywood barrier aside. “Come,” I said. Orion trotted contentedly up the stairs beside me.

  Isobel was still in the hall, one hand on the front door handle, planning to bolt from the house at the first sign of danger.

  “Do you want to get acquainted?” I said.

  She looked warily at Orion. Then she inched toward me.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I said. “After all, he’s your grandfather’s dog.” I took one of her hands and held it close to Orion. He sniffed it. “You can pat him if you want to,” I said.

  Isobel shook her head and pulled her hand away.

  “He’ll never get to know you if you don’t let him.”

  She looked terrified. But after a moment, she reached out again and gingerly touched the top of Orion’s head. His tail wagged.

  “See?” I said. “He’s not so scary.”

  Orion roowfed—the sound was as loud and unexpected as a thunderclap. Isobel jumped back.

  “Grandpa is upstairs,” she said. “He’ll understand what you say, but you might not understand him. His doctor says he’s doing really well. But the stroke affected his speech.”

  I took off my coat and set down my backpack, keeping a firm grip on Orion. Isobel led the way up the stairs to a bright, sunny bedroom at the front of the house. I had expected to find Mr. Schuster in bed, but instead, he was sitting in an armchair near the window. A walker stood on the floor beside the chair. He smiled when he saw me, but there was something odd about his expression. It took me a moment to figure out what: only one side of his mouth had curled up. The other side hadn’t moved at all.

  “Look who’s here to see you, Grandpa,” Isobel said.

  Orion dragged me across the room. I held tight to his leash, afraid that he would jump up on Mr. Schuster. But the big dog seemed to sense that his master wasn’t well. He plunked himself down next to Schuster and dropped his massive head onto the old man’s knees. Schuster’s left hand trembled when he reached out to pat Orion. The dog’s tail thumped on the floor. Mr. Schuster looked at me. Tears welled up in his eyes.

  “Troop Fred seal,” he said.

  At least, that’s what it sounded like.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “H

  e’s happy to see Orion,” Isobel said. “Aren’t you, Grandpa?”

  Mr. Schuster nodded.

  “Bit,” he said. “Bit. . . bat. . .” He looked frustrated. Finally, he raised his hand to his face and touched the side of his nose with one finger. His hand shook as he dragged the finger across his cheek. He looked at me intently the whole time, as if he were trying to tell me something. I was almost positive I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t sure if I should admit it in front of Isobel.

  Isobel picked up a pad of paper from the bedside table, set it on Mr. Schuster’s lap, and pressed a pencil into his hand.

  “Can you write it, Grandpa?” she said.

  I watched Mr. Schuster make a squiggly upward line. The letters he formed were shaky, but I had no trouble reading what he wrote: Nick?

  I glanced at Isobel.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I know you know him.”

  If that was true and if Nick had done all the things Glen had said he’d done, why had she let me into the house?

  “I think he wants to know if you’ve seen Nick,” Isobel said. “Don’t you, Grandpa?”

  Mr. Schuster
nodded.

  “Yes,” I admitted. I looked into Mr. Schuster’s watery eyes. “He asked me to check on Orion. He also wanted me to tell you that he didn’t do it.”

  Schuster formed more letters on his notepad: Where?

  “Where is Nick?” I asked. He nodded. “He’s staying at his aunt’s house until his court date.”

  Mr. Schuster sank back in his chair.

  “Grandpa’s tired,” Isobel said. “He had physical therapy this morning and speech therapy this afternoon. We should let him rest.”

  But when I gathered Orion’s leash, Schuster grabbed me by the hand. He struggled hard to form just two words. They came out in a trembling whisper, but this time I had no trouble understanding them. He wanted me to come back.

  “I will,” I said. “I promise.”

  I kept a tight grip on Orion’s leash as I followed Isobel out into the hall, but he kept pulling away from me. He seemed to want to go to the back of the house.

  “Orion used to sleep in the back bedroom,” Isobel said. “I guess he misses it. My mom and dad are using that room while we’re here.”

  Orion followed me reluctantly down the stairs but balked at the door to the basement.

  “Come on, boy,” I said, giving the leash a gentle tug.

  He dug his heels in, growling and barking. I don’t know what was going through his doggy mind, but it was clear that he wanted to stay where he was. Isobel backed away.

  “See?” she said, her voice trembling. “He doesn’t like it down there. But my dad says if he’s going to stay, he has to stay in the basement.”

  “Orion, come,” I said. He refused to move. I turned to Isobel. “There’s a bag of dog biscuits in my coat pocket. Can you grab me one?”

  She was back in a flash and handed me a biscuit. That got Orion’s attention. He leaned toward me, waiting to see if I would give him one. But I didn’t. Not yet. I held the biscuit out in front of him and used it to wave him through the basement door and down the stairs. When we reached the bottom, I tossed the biscuit to the farthest end of the concrete floor. Orion looked at me. I nodded curtly. He bounded across the floor. Quickly, I replaced the plywood barrier. Orion didn’t seem to notice. I retreated upstairs but left the basement light on for him. Isobel stood waiting in the front hall.

 

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