Sit, Stay, Love

by J. J. Howard

  Dad chuckled. “Cecilia, you haven’t been a baby for a long time.”

  “Dad? Do you like being a lawyer?”

  He looked surprised. “Yes, I do. I really do, actually. It’s just—I guess I had this idea of what it would be like. I love helping out people who really need it, but money’s a lot tighter than I thought it’d be.”

  “But this new case … it seems like it’s going well?”

  Dad smiled. “I don’t want to jinx it, but … I think it is.”

  “That’s great, Dad. The liking-your-job part, I mean. You know I’m rooting for you. You worked really hard to get here. I think you’re a great lawyer. The money stuff is less important.”

  And just then, it occurred to me that I maybe didn’t need dog-show prize money to show my dad how much I supported him. I could just let him know myself.

  “I also don’t think you’ve done a bad job finding a home for us,” I added, choking up a little. “I’m fine wherever we live as long as I have you. We’re a team, Dad.”

  Dad hugged me then, for the first time since the fire, and for the first time in forever when he wasn’t just hugging me because I’d just survived a fire. I hugged him back, and it was the best feeling in the world.

  Dad stood up, brushing tears from his eyes, and smiled down at me. Then he rubbed his back. “Well, I don’t miss teaching P.E., but I do miss the shape I was in.”

  “You could still get back in shape. You could start playing some of your sports again.”

  “Some of my sports?”

  “Well, they’re certainly not my sports,” I told him with a laugh. “You know how I feel about organized athletic situations.”

  “Even if I didn’t, the phrase ‘organized athletic situations’ would probably give it away.”

  I laughed again.

  “So I do have some news,” Dad added. “I am very close to signing a lease on a new place but I just have to figure some things out with my job first.”

  I felt a surge of excitement. A new place! I decided the moment had arrived. “That sounds great, Dad. I’m really sorry about what I said to Mel about us being here. Like I said, I don’t really care that much about any of that.” I was rambling, as usual. “The one thing that made me so upset was the fact that Aunt Pam is allergic to dogs. And I know you hadn’t said yes to me having one at all yet. But … something happened, right after the fire. There’s this dog. I know what you’re going to say—another dog. But this one was—he is—different. Potato … his name is Potato. And I really, really wanted him to be my dog. But my friend … Lily, her family adopted him.”

  I wasn’t trying, I swear, but a couple of tears slipped out.

  “Oh, Cecilia. Why didn’t you tell me about this … Potato?”

  I wiped at my eyes. “I’ve asked for a dog before. A lot.”

  Dad frowned at me. “Not recently.”

  I thought back to my decision to put off asking my dad. Waiting for the Couch Monster to be less of a couch monster. Maybe if I’d been more honest with Dad about how I felt, I could have had a dog a long time ago.

  But then, maybe, I never would have started volunteering at Orphan Paws, and then I never would’ve met Potato.

  “I’m really sorry about this dog, C. But at least your friend adopted him.” Dad hit himself in the forehead with his palm. “That’s why you’re always wanting to stay over there!”

  “Yeah, that’s a part of it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you still get to see him.” Dad started for the door.

  “Wait! I was going to ask you something.”

  Dad turned around with a knowing look. “You want a dog. When we move to our new place.”

  “Yes. I really do.”

  Dad sat back down beside me. “Okay. I’m going to say a tentative yes to a dog …”

  “Oh my gosh!” I shrieked in his ear and hugged him again.

  “I said tentative. There will be conditions. Honor roll. Possibly even your participation in at least one organized athletic situation.”

  “Ew,” I said automatically, but when Dad started to shrug, as though to dissolve the deal, I added, “No! I’ll do sports. I’ll find one that I’m not horrible at. Maybe.”

  “Well, that’s a solid plan. Now, I’m off to go for a run.”

  “Really? It’s been”—I looked down at my watch—“about three years since you exercised.”

  “I know. But I have to start somewhere.”

  “Totally. Let’s start with a long walk.” I jumped up. “I don’t have to go to the Chungs’ yet. I’ll go with you. If you want?”

  Dad smiled again. “I want.” He looped one arm through mine and then we spent the next half hour searching for his sneakers before heading out on our walk.

  As we walked, another thought flickered into my head amid the happy ones about the heart-to-heart I just had with my dad.

  If I am allowed to adopt a dog in the potential near future, could there be a way for that dog to be … Potato?

  I knew it was crazy, but Eric had said that if Potato didn’t earn his keep as a show dog, his parents might let him go. That would have been a bad thing when I didn’t have the space for him in my home. But now I would. Or at least, I would soon.

  Would it be wrong to botch a dog show for my own selfish gain?

  Potato’s favorite chicken cookies (a lot of them)

  A conveniently placed table

  A trusty accomplice

  A bunch of people showed up at the carnival, probably because there’s not much to do in Winchester. There were food trucks, games, rides, and, of course, cotton candy.

  Eric, Lily, and I walked onto the carnival grounds together. I was trying to look at Eric without being caught looking at Eric—to see how he felt about being stuck with me for the weekend. And also to see if he could sense that I was plotting to take his dog back.

  It was just a matter of proving to the Chungs that Potato was not dog show material. I understood the point Eric was trying to make, but why did Potato have to be the one to suffer to make it? My plan was simple. I would sabotage the upcoming dog show, then volunteer to take the pesky, disobedient rescued dog off the Chungs’ hands.

  My scattered, evil thoughts led me to trip over a cord coming out of the funnel cake truck, and Eric had to grab my arm so I wouldn’t go down.

  I straightened up and tried not to think about the first time Eric had caught me, in the hall at school, when we kind of officially met. A lot had happened since then.

  “There it is—COTTON CANDY!” Lily went rushing off toward the stand.

  “I guess she really likes cotton candy,” I said.

  “She loves it,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

  “Yep.”

  “Cecilia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I took a deep breath. I met his eyes. “I’m okay. Why?”

  “You usually talk more.”

  “I’m just really hungry,” I lied.

  “Oh, okay. I’ll go get us some funnel cakes,” Eric offered. He went over to the truck window.

  My stomach fluttered as I watched him walk toward me with two forks and the delicious, deep-fried confections. Were the flutters from guilt? Or something else entirely?

  After Eric and I ate our funnel cakes, and Lily ate an entire bag of her favorite addiction, she asked, “You guys want to play some games? Or we could hit some rides.”

  “Rides!” I said quickly. My dad had always been suspicious about rides that were set up and torn down in new places all the time, so I hardly ever got to go on them.

  “Okay, rides it is. You pick the first one,” Lily said.

  I turned in a circle and looked around. I spotted one in the distance that was turning the carts around in a fast circle and blasting music. It was pretty bad music, but it still looked like fun. “How about that one?”

  We walked over to the ride, which was called “Music Express.”

  I figured I’d ride w
ith Lily, since the cars were for two people, but then she ran into Emily in line with two of her friends. “Oh, good—perfect!” Lily announced, turning to me and Eric. “You guys can ride together and I’ll ride with Em.”

  Ack. I’d be riding with Eric.

  We all handed in our tickets to the blasting sounds of an old nineties song, and Eric stood aside for me to pick which side of the little cart I wanted.

  The ride started a few minutes later, and I realized my mistake. The ride went around and around very fast, squishing the person sitting on the outside seat—me—against the side of the person on the inside seat—Eric. I tried to sort of fight the awkward squishing, but after about three turns around, I gave up. You can’t fight gravity.

  When the ride finally came to a stop, I jerked back from Eric so fast it was like he had some sort of contagious disease.

  I slid back onto my side and the ride operator pulled up the safety bar. My legs felt all rubbery from going around so fast, and from the stressful seat-smush.

  “I wish you could forgive me,” Eric said then, in a very low voice—so low I wasn’t even sure I’d heard it.

  And then we didn’t speak again for the rest of the day.

  * * *

  The next morning Eric and I worked with Potato in the yard. We didn’t speak to each other, and I wasn’t sure if Eric noticed that I was giving Potato less encouragement than usual.

  “So did you ask your dad if you can come to the regional show on Saturday?” Eric finally asked me, breaking the silence.

  “Of course.” I looked up at him. “A deal’s a deal. I know I need to be there.” I felt a jolt of worry, as if he knew I was planning something that would not only make him look foolish but also possibly ruin his reputation with both his parents and the greater dog-show community.

  “Oh. I was just checking.”

  I looked back down. Potato was sitting between us and looking from one of us to the other, an inquisitive look in his big brown eyes.

  “It starts at nine in the morning,” Eric reminded me. “So maybe you could stay here on Friday so we can leave early.”

  “Maybe. I’ll have to ask my dad.” Then I remembered something else about that weekend. “But my best friend, Melody, will be visiting that weekend, too.”

  Eric shrugged. “Have her come to the dog show. I’m sure she can stay over here, too. My parents won’t mind.”

  “Well, I’ll see you at school, then.” I bent down to pet Potato good-bye before heading into the house. He licked me all over my face before I reluctantly handed him back to Eric.

  “I’ll see you soon, P,” I told Potato. “See ya, Eric,” I added coolly.

  For some reason I glanced back as I was heading up to the front of the house. Eric was just standing there, holding Potato, not moving at all.

  “I just can’t get over this new Cecilia Murray,” Mel was saying for about the billionth time.

  “I have one new friend and I went to one dance. Oh, and I got my hair cut. The amount of shock you are having over it is starting to become an embarrassment,” I told her, readjusting Potato on Lily’s floor so I could lie down flat on my stomach. He gave me a grumpy look for making him move before sighing loudly and lying back down beside me.

  It was Friday evening—the day before the dog show—and Mel had come to Lily’s house with me after school. It had been awesome to be reunited with Mel when she and her parents arrived yesterday. Her parents were even letting her stay with me—last night she’d slept on an air mattress in my borrowed room at Aunt Pam’s, and we’d gotten all the parents’ okays for her to sleep over with me at the Chungs’ for the night before the dog show. I’d been a little nervous about having her hang out with Lily, in case the two of them didn’t get along, but so far it had been going great.

  “I’m not experiencing shock,” Mel went on. “Just the appropriate amount of appreciation for the new you.”

  “Well, from both the old me and the new me, I suppose I’ll try to have the appropriate amount of gratitude.”

  Lily stretched out between us and set a bowl of M&M’s on the floor. She looked from me to Mel. “You two are so funny,” she observed. “You talk the same.”

  “The big words are her fault,” I said. “Mel’s a genius.”

  The genius threw a pillow at me. “I’m not a genius.” She laughed. “I just like learning. If you put the same effort into your schoolwork that you put into making all those lists, or volunteering at O.P….”

  “Ooh, what lists?” Lily asked.

  Mel grinned. “Cecilia makes these really funny lists all the time. But she barely even shows them to me. They’re all in this journal she keeps. You should start writing fiction, you know,” Mel told me. “You could write a book!”

  I blushed. “Nah. I’m not even in high school!”

  “So? Taylor Swift got her first deal with a recording company when she was thirteen,” Mel said.

  I sighed. “Mel is obsessed with Taylor Swift,” I told Lily.

  “Me too!” Lily cried. “High five!” She and Mel slapped hands, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I just admire how Taylor is so accomplished and goes after her goals,” Mel explained.

  “You know,” Lily said, grabbing a handful of M&M’s, “you sound sort of like my brother, Eric. I’d say the two of you should date, but maybe you’re too similar. Besides, I kind of think he likes another girl.” She smiled mysteriously.

  My heart stopped, and Mel and I exchanged glances. Mel’s theory, which she explained to me last night, was that despite everything, I had a crush on Eric Chung. And that’s why I was so upset by what had happened at the dance. I’d blushed as I lay in bed and told Mel that she was wrong, of course. Wasn’t she?

  But who was Lily talking about? I knew it couldn’t have been me.

  Besides, once I carried out my get-Potato-back plan, it wouldn’t matter what I really felt about Eric, or what he felt about me. I was pretty sure whatever non-friendship we had would be ruined.

  “Eric’s totally goal-oriented, too,” Lily went on with a groan, grabbing more M&M’s. “He already worries about his college applications. Not that he needs to. He’s student council president and captain of the basketball team.”

  “That stuff seems like kind of a strange combination with dog shows,” Mel observed.

  “Well, he always liked animals,” Lily told her. “There was one dog that he was particularly attached to: Porkchop. He was a naughty puppy, but Eric loved him the most. He was really sad when he died, and I think he channeled all that sadness into taking care of the rest of the dogs. You should see him with Potato,” Lily added, looking over at me. “Sometimes I catch him in the dogs’ room, singing to Potato, making up these silly songs to help him fall asleep. From what he’s told me, Potato had a lot of trouble going to sleep when he first came to our house.”

  My heart swelled, and then sank. That was the cutest thing I’d ever heard. I wasn’t the only one who sang to Potato? Eric did, too?

  But then I strengthened my resolve. I was determined to get Potato back, and to end his dog-show career. Eric may have been sweet to Potato, but he still was only using him as a tool to prove a point. I just wanted Potato for Potato. So that made me more deserving. So my plan was fine. It was totally ethical.

  Right?

  * * *

  Later that night, after Lily had fallen asleep, I filled Mel in on The Plan. I felt really guilty; Lily was a good friend of mine, but at the end of the day she was still Eric’s twin. The Plan would have to be kept secret, between only me and Mel for now.

  Both Mel and I were bleary-eyed when we had to wake up early to get ready for the show. Lily and Mel would be in the audience, so they got to dress casually, but since this show was a formal event, as Eric had explained, I had to wear something nice. So I’d selected a stiff green suit that I’d found in the depths of my cousin’s closet—it was definitely formal. And best of all, it came with a matching jacket that was going
to play a crucial role in The Plan.

  When we met Eric downstairs, he was wearing his own black suit and white shirt and looked annoyingly good.

  The regional show was being held at the big fancy hotel in the center of town. As Mrs. Chung drove to the show, I tried to act normal around Eric so he wouldn’t be suspicious.

  “Cecilia, why are you being so strange?” Eric asked me point-blank.

  And here I’d been trying to act normal. This proved, once and for all, that I was a terrible actor.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, avoiding his eyes as we got out of the car. When he didn’t say anything else, I snuck a look at him, and he was frowning at me.

  “If you’re nervous—”

  “I’m not nervous,” I broke in quickly, and he shrugged, looking hurt.

  Keep your eyes on the prize, Cecilia, I told myself.

  We walked into the ballroom where the show would take place. Lily and Mel went to take their seats in the audience, and Eric, Mrs. Chung, Potato, and I went into the “backstage” area, which was a huge conference room packed with tables and dogs and their frantic owners and trainers. Dogs barked, whined, and pranced, and trainers whistled, whispered, combed, fluffed, and paced. There was a buzz of nervous energy in the air.

  Eric picked up Potato and put him on the small table we’d been assigned, where the little guy sat, looking from Eric to me. Eric’s mom was a few feet away, talking on her cell phone. Officially we were here to “help” Mrs. Chung (even though she hadn’t had anything to do with Potato’s training). Potato looked anxious, even though I’d already whispered in his ear that today was going to be the end of his show business career, if I had anything to say about it.

  I felt another flicker of guilt at all the hard work Eric and I had both put in to getting Potato ready for the show, but I shooed the feelings away. I had to focus on my endgame: Potato, resting on the couch next to me and my dad, in our new place.

  Mrs. Chung came over to us. “You two ready? Our category is next. Oh, I should say are you three ready?” She laughed and stroked Potato’s head.

  “He’s ready,” I said, picking him up.