I'll Be Yours

by Jenny B. Jones

“Oh.” He stopped. “It’s a shame I’m going to have to go tell your mom that you’re sneaking out. Is she asleep? I’d hate to wake her up. With all she has going on, she probably needs her rest.”

  The wet grass soaked into my shoes as I pivoted and faced him. “You’re a first-class jerk.”

  “Meeting some guy, huh?”

  This boy was hilarious. “As a matter of fact I am.”

  He shook his dark head. “Scandalous. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Yeah, because you clearly know me so well.”

  “Guess I’ll go try the doorbell again. If that doesn’t work, I’ll bang on some—”

  “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “I will pass the message on to my dad. Just keep my mother out of this.”

  Even in the dark, I could see his posture slightly relax. “Where are you going and why was the front door not an option?”

  “Study group.” I lifted my chin, grateful he couldn’t see the flush climb my face. I was a horrible liar.

  “Is that the best you can do?”

  I sighed. “Apparently so.”

  “I need one more thing from you.”

  “I’m not your type.”

  And then he laughed. “That’s cute.”

  “Feel free to get off my property any time.”

  “I . . .” His gaze dropped and he dug the toe of one boot into the grass. “I know you’re all good at school and stuff. I need . . .”

  “Shock therapy?”

  “A tutor.”

  “You? You care about your grades?”

  “I’m behind on credits. I haven’t had a lot of time for school.”

  “Education can be really inconvenient.”

  “The only way to make the classes up and graduate on time was to take a college course. English comp. But I’m struggling. I need help. Your brother said—”

  “Is this your way of asking me to do your homework?”

  “No.” He almost looked offended. “Geez, do you expect the worst in everyone?”

  I blinked away the sudden tears.

  “Look, Harper, this is a big deal. If I don’t pass, I don’t play football anywhere, much less USK. I can pay you.”

  “I have nothing to gain from this.”

  “You’re not the only one whose life got jacked up Sunday.”

  I had no reason to do anything but walk away. This boy and his problems meant less than nothing to me. But it was his voice. That thread of desperation buried beneath the words, barely perceptible to the human ear.

  I knew that sound.

  That feeling.

  And it held me still before him.

  “I’m sorry my dad has ruined your life too. I’m sorry for a lot of things,” I said. “And I’ll try to get you in contact with him, but he probably can’t do anything for you as long as he’s suspended. As for helping you with your classes, I just can’t.” I began to walk away. “You should probably leave before I reactivate the security system.”

  “You didn’t tell me where you’re going,” he called. “When I send the picture of you crawling out of your window to the local news, I want to get the story somewhat correct.”

  I stopped and swiveled on my heel. “If you must know, there’s a blind, malnourished terrier tied to a tree in Cedarville, and I’m going to . . . visit.”

  Ridley tilted his head and gave a smile that probably scored him many a date. “You stealing this dog?”

  “I prefer the term relocate.”

  His eyes traveled over my dark outfit, right down to the extra large bag hanging around my waist. “This isn’t your first rescue, is it?”

  “I don’t think it’s in my best interest to incriminate myself further.”

  “I like your fanny pack.”

  He did sarcasm so well. “It’s a rescue kit.”

  His grin could’ve blotted out the sun. “Come on. Let’s go get your dog. I’ll drive.”

  “Wait.” I pulled my eyes from that chiseled face. “We’re not going anywhere. You’re going home, and I’m going to—”

  “Trespass on private property.”

  “I work alone.”

  “You’re not going by yourself.”

  I planted a hand on my hip. “Is that right?”

  “Gentleman’s code would not allow me to let a girl go out in the dark of night by herself to some stranger’s house.”

  “Did you learn that from Maxim?”

  “Grand Theft Auto. Now, let’s go find my Jeep. It’s parked down the hill on the other side of your neighborhood.”

  His hand guided at my back, and I immediately swatted it away.

  Why hadn’t I just stayed in bed with my cookies?

  “Here are your choices, Sticky Fingers. Either I take you or I wake up your family and tell them I found you hanging from the roof.”

  My head throbbed from all the injustices in my life.

  If my mom learned about my sneaking out, I would not get to go to the band dance. And I would not get to dance with Andrew. And we would not make out. And he would never know I could rock his trumpet-tooting world. And who needed something good in her life? This girl.

  “Fine.”

  Ridley wasn’t kidding when he said he’d parked down the hill. After a half-mile walk, he led me to his Jeep, parked in a neighboring subdivision that didn’t have a gate and attendant like mine. The fact that he’d gotten in on foot didn’t exactly make me feel all safe and cozy.

  Ridley held open the door, and his hand briefly touched mine as he helped me step inside.

  “Buckle up, now,” he said. “We have a dog to save.”

  I couldn’t help but appreciate the manly scent of the vehicle as Ridley walked to his side and hopped in. His car smelled like leather and cologne, and judging from the Happy Meal bag crumbled on the floor, maybe a note of deep battered fries. His fingers turned the key, bringing the engine to life, and some Spanish music poured out of his speakers. He quickly turned it off.

  “Don’t change it on my account,” I said. “I’m fluent.”

  He answered by turning on some rap about girls’ butts.

  “Wanna tell me where we’re going?” he asked.

  I gave him the directions, and he didn’t say a word about the fact that he’d be driving at least thirty minutes out of town.

  For ten miles neither of us spoke. It wasn’t until we passed the city limits sign that Ridley turned down the radio and gave me a quick glance. “So . . . your dad.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did he say when he might be reinstated?”

  At USK? As a member of my family?

  “My dad and I aren’t speaking.”

  Ridley braked at a red light. “Could you ask him for me?”

  “Why don’t you just watch ESPN like the rest of the world?” My dad had gone from being nationally famous for his wins to nationally renowned for a whole different kind of scoring.

  Long fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel. “I’m disappointed, too, you know.” He gave me a long stare. “I’ve watched him for years. Even before he came to USK. Read articles on the great Coach O’Malley. He seemed . . . like an awesome dad. Not just an amazing coach, but a good man.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  “Maybe the accident wasn’t what it seemed,” Ridley said.

  I was sorry to shoot down his hopes. “It was.”

  The light turned green, and he put his attention back to driving. “So this Levin guy.”

  “Don’t want to talk about him either.”

  “You’re boring me, O’Malley.”

  “Want to talk about my literary heroes from nineteenth-century Europe?”

  He flicked on his blinker. “I was more in the mood for subatomic particle physics.”

  I smiled in the darkened car until I saw where he was turning. “This isn’t the way.”

  “I know a shortcut.”

  “If you plan to do me bodily harm, I request you
wait until we get the dog. I don’t have time for death and torture.”

  “Sticky Fingers”—Ridley leaned far over the console—“if these hands were on you, dying would be the last thing you’d be thinking about.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Could you have picked a worse part of town to steal a dog?”

  Ridley stopped the Jeep in front of a white house, where snaggled siding looked to be at war with its disintegrating roof.

  “Pull in the drive,” I whispered, as if my voice could wake up the neighborhood. “Keep the headlights on. I’ll need the light.”

  He rested his hand on my seat and regarded me with doubt. “Do you want to get caught?”

  “The house is abandoned. Nobody’s lived here in months.”

  “Fine. Your funeral.” He threw the car into drive. “When you get caught, do not list me as an accomplice.”

  “Like I’d admit to hanging out with you. Just pull in the drive. Dog’s in the back.”

  The Jeep crept onto the dirt path that wrapped around the house. My skin tingled with the nerves I always got. The rush of adrenaline. The feeling that someone was watching me. The risk of getting caught and having to explain to my parents the grittier details of my life of crime.

  “She’s right there.” I pointed to a small barn. A light shone down on it, illuminating the crooked tree where the dog was tied.

  The Jeep stopped, and I reached for my special leash before hopping out. Ridley reached for his door handle.

  “Remember, I work alone.”

  He peered out into the darkened yard. “I’m not usually one to back away from a fun misdemeanor, but this doesn’t feel right, O’Malley.”

  “It’s best if you stay here, keep the car ready to go.”

  His left cheek dimpled with his slow smile. “So I’m the getaway driver.”

  In movies, it was always the dumb guys who drove. “Ridley, I think you’re just the boy for the job.”

  With the song of the crickets and frogs in the neighboring field, I walked away, making my way to the lump I knew was the dog.

  “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Feet moving light and slow, I eased toward her. I’d visited her a few times before, and the dog, though leery, knew me by now. “I’m here to take care of you, get you out of here just like I promised. You’re gonna be so happy in your new home.” The dog’s ears twitched, but she had yet to raise her head. “Are you hungry? I bought you a snack.”

  I stood a few feet away and held out my hand. The terrier lifted her head as if it pained her, as if her head weighed more than her slight body. She sniffed the air for a full minute before I took another step. Five minutes passed before I kneeled by her side, holding out a small handful of baked chicken.

  The dog’s left eye was matted shut, wounds dotted her hindquarters, and one ear looked as if something had tried to gnaw it off.

  “It’s okay, girl. Eat the chicken. I know you’re hungry.”

  Animals were so much easier to gauge than people. Boys I didn’t really get. Parents were not my specialty. But cats and dogs, they were easy. We communicated on the same plane, especially these lost ones. My gut told me this dog would just as soon bite her own paw off as attack me. And my animal instinct had yet to fail me.

  She sniffed at the chicken for a scant few seconds before gobbling it up. “Lots more where that came from.”

  Forgoing my leash, I reached into my pack and pulled out a small pair of scissors. I could just cut the tether it was already on—

  “Get off my property!”

  A door slammed, and I whirled around to see a shirtless man stomping onto his rotting back porch. He waved a shotgun in the air.

  And fired.

  “Harper!” Ridley sped toward me as another shot pierced the dark sky.

  The dog cowered, and I reached for her rope with the knife from my pack.

  “Are you insane?” Ridley grabbed my hand and pulled, his arm wrapped around me like a shield. “Get to the Jeep. Go!”

  “Move away from my dog. Get off my land!” A bullet pinged the building beside us, splintering the wood.

  I struggled in Ridley’s grip. “I have to get the dog.”

  But Ridley wasn’t listening. My heart pounding, I let him drag me to the running vehicle, as the old man yelled obscenities and threats.

  Ridley covered me as I jumped in, then he ran to his side, slamming and locking his door. He threw the car in reverse. Dirt and rocks flew.

  “Holy crap.” The tires tore against the gravel. “Can’t you just call animal control like a normal person?”

  “Stop the car.”

  “No way.”

  “I can’t leave that dog!” And then to my utter shame, the tears started. Not just for the animal, but for everything. My lack of sleep, my dad, my family. I hated crying in front of people! I held my breath, desperate for him not to hear my pitiful sobbing, but it was no use. With a strangled sound from my lips, I dropped my head to my lap and buried my face in my hands.

  “Harper?”

  I couldn’t speak. My body shook with angry tears, as I tried to push the overwhelming defeat away.

  I should think of happy things. Rainbows. Kitty cats. A Shakespearean sonnet. Two for one night at the Taco Palace.

  “Stop crying,” Ridley said. “This is exactly what my sister would do, and I’m not falling for it.”

  I felt the car move onto the paved road, and then everything slowed as Ridley pulled over onto the shoulder.

  He jerked the car into park. “Are you even breathing in there? If you pass out, I’m tossing your body out.”

  “You probably would.” I lifted my head to find a gentle smile on his face.

  His fingers flexed on the gearshift, and he softened his plea. “Please don’t cry.”

  I reached into my bag and pulled out a tissue to swab my nose. “Just shut up.” I was a holy mess.

  “Look at me, Harper.”

  I couldn’t. Because my eyes were watering like Niagara, and I knew I had mascara running down my cheeks like runny finger paint.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Ridley said. “Your parents would kill me if they knew I let you go back there.”

  “You’ve totally ruined this.”

  “I ruined this? You saw that freak brandishing the firearm, right?”

  “You just had to come with me. This was all planned out.” I blew into the tissue, wishing I could unsee the eyes of the terrier. “I would’ve gotten the dog.”

  “And that would’ve been a lovely sentiment on your tombstone.”

  Raindrops sprinkled on the windshield like a final seal on one horrible night.

  “You don’t understand.” I blew indelicately into the tissue. “He beats her. She just lays there in her own filth. You can see her rib cage. Even in the dark, you can tell she’s starving. She’s dying, and she wants out. And she wants a home.”

  “She could bite,” Ridley said. “Maybe she’s tied up for a reason.”

  “She does not bite.”

  His laugh was devoid of humor. “You’ve been here before.”

  “I’m a very fair pet stealer.”

  “For the love of—”

  “I have to try again. Everything is spinning out of control, but this is one thing I’m not giving up. I have nearly a hundred percent success rate, and that dog is mine.” I opened the Jeep door. “Wait here and—”

  “Heck no.” Ridley’s arm whip-locked onto mine. “Just stop.” His eyes looked beyond me, through my passenger window, as if searching the night for the secret to dealing with an animal-loving nut job. I slipped my fingers from beneath his.

  He muttered a few curse words in Spanish under his breath. “I’ll go back.”

  “Oh, thank you! I know—”

  “We do this my way. Are we clear on that?”

  I hesitantly nodded.

  “You are not to be trusted, O’Malley.” He started the Jeep, redirecting us back toward the house.

  Neari
ng the property, Ridley cut the lights, drove down the driveway and right to the dog.

  “I’m going to get out.” He unlatched the seat belt stretched across his chest. “You climb into my seat. Be ready to tear out of here. Can you handle that?”

  “You’re going to need this.” I handed him my utility knife. “The dog is tied. Not on a leash.” My hands trembled slightly, but I gave him a wobbly smile. “Be careful, okay?” It was one thing to risk my own welfare, but I’d never had to consider the responsibility of someone else.

  Ridley ran toward the dog like it was a bomb ready to detonate. No leash, no treats. No Kevlar jacket.

  My eyes on the situation, I climbed over the console and into his seat. It was still warm from his body, and my chilled form snuggled in deeper.

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry.” It was a litany, a wish, a prayer in the dark of the car.

  Ridley slowed as he came up on the animal. He bent down to unleash her from the rope. His lips moved, and I wondered what he said.

  I jerked in my seat as the first shot rang out. I watched in frozen terror as Ridley ducked, scooped up the dog, and took off in a dead run. The terrier tucked under his arm, he cut a hard left, then a sharp right.

  The old man leaped from his porch, his gun no longer pointed at the sky, but right toward Ridley.

  Shots exploded in the air like a scene from a war movie.

  Ridley kept running in a zigzag pattern. A game play.

  This had been a mistake. A huge one. What was I doing, asking Ridley to do this? I wanted to take it back. I wanted him to make it. Please, God, let him make it.

  I revved up the engine and threw open his door. Pulling closer, I yelled, “Get in!”

  Ridley hurled his body inside, his breath coming in gasps. He hugged the dog in his football player’s arms.

  “Duck down and gun it.”

  The tires squealed as I put it in reverse, before Ridley even shut his door. We roared down the driveway, onto the street, then squalled down Garrison Avenue toward freedom.

  No more shots fired.

  No more slouching in the leather seat of the car.

  “That was stupid.” Panting, Ridley looked down at the trembling dog in his lap. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever been a part of.”

  I began to laugh. Nerves, fear, all of it tangled together until I couldn’t contain it. We’d almost died. Over a dog.