by Daphne Maple
13
The next morning when I woke up, my first thought was to run downstairs and see Lily, who would be having morning coffee with my mom. But then the truth hit me like a ton of bricks and I rolled over and closed my eyes. Last night had been awful. My mom was falsely cheerful at a dinner that I could barely choke down. I saw her glance toward the spot where Lily usually sat, but then she just made a remark about the house being clean and left it at that.
The house may have been clean, but it was also unbearably empty. I missed Lily when I cleaned up after we’d eaten, when I went upstairs to do my homework, and most of all when I went to sleep, the bed cold without Lily curled next to me.
And I missed her now, the emptiness squeezing my chest and throat, making it hard to breathe.
It was quiet when I finally dragged myself downstairs. I made a piece of toast and went in to sit with my mom in the dining room as she drank her coffee. I noticed her eyes drifting over to Lily’s spot and it suddenly occurred to me that maybe she missed Lily too. But then she cleared her throat.
“Bun, when you’re ready, let’s look this over and decide what kind of dog we want to get,” my mom said, passing me a brochure from Puppy Rescue. She must have gotten a bunch, because I’d tossed the last one in the recycling bin.
“I know you miss that dog, but we did the right thing,” my mom went on. “She was untrained and messy and she wasn’t a good fit for our family. It was smart to cut it off now, since it clearly wasn’t working.”
“It was working for me,” I said.
My mom glanced toward Lily’s spot again and for a moment a look of sadness seemed to flash across her face. But then she straightened her shoulders.
“What’s done is done,” she said, and then she headed out.
After she’d gone I gathered my stuff for school. But before I left I made sure to throw the brochure into recycling.
Because if I couldn’t have Lily, I didn’t want a dog at all.
When I went to our regular meeting spot on the walk to school, I saw that Kim, Taylor, and Sasha had arrived before me, and once again they were in a tight circle speaking in low voices. And once again they stopped the second they saw me. The same thing happened at lunch. So I probably shouldn’t have been surprised that they weren’t even waiting for me at the end of the day. We didn’t have Dog Club, but we still usually walked out together. But today they’d clearly ditched me and I had a feeling I knew why: Lily.
I walked slowly down the hall filled with groups of friends talking and laughing together. I got stuck behind a crowd of eighth-grade girls shrieking about a video one of them had made, but it wasn’t like I was in a rush to get anywhere. I certainly wasn’t going to go to the Pampered Puppy.
I finally made it out into the cloudy afternoon and couldn’t help looking to see if maybe my friends had waited for me out here. But while the path outside school was filled with students, none of them was Kim, Sasha, or even Taylor. Not that I had expected them, of course.
Sure my friends had been sympathetic, but taking Lily and then returning her to the shelter was hard for a dog. That and the fact that I’d let down Alice and a dog that desperately needed a home—well, who could blame my friends for being annoyed about it? And there was no way to make them understand what really happened and how hard I’d fought for Lily. Not without spilling the truth about my mom. And the fact that my friends were ditching me now confirmed that I had been right not to trust them with that.
My phone vibrated with a text and I pulled it out.
“Come to the Rox.” It was from Taylor.
Maybe my friends hadn’t blown me off after all. Or were they going to tell me all the ways they were upset with me while we ate an after-school snack? I reminded myself that even if they were mad, they weren’t mean, and they wouldn’t try to make me feel bad. At least not on purpose. But my stomach was in knots when I pulled open the door to the cozy diner, the smells of fresh apple pie, coffee, and sweet potato fries, the house specialty, making me slightly queasy.
But when I saw my friends crowded into a booth, their faces lighting up when they saw me, I knew I’d gotten it wrong. This was not a bash-Bri event.
“We wanted to do something to cheer you up,” Taylor said, bouncing up to give me a hug.
“We know how sad you are about Lily,” Sasha said compassionately.
“Not that this makes up for losing her or anything,” Kim said as I slid onto the vinyl cushioned bench across from her. They’d ordered drinks and I saw that they’d remembered my favorite was strawberry lemonade. They’d gotten me a large.
“But we figured snacks and a good talk were better than nothing,” Taylor finished. “Sweet potato fries and cupcakes are on the way.”
I realized that she was missing her photography class and that Sasha was skipping dance. And Kim was supposed to be with Anna. But instead they were here with me, hoping to cheer me up. I felt awful that I’d doubted them. And the only way to fix that was to come clean.
“You guys are the best,” I said. “When I saw you talking before I thought you were mad at me.”
Sasha’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “Why would we be mad at you?” she asked.
“Because I let everybody down, even Lily,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Oh, Bri, you didn’t let us down,” Taylor cried.
“We know this was harder on you than anyone,” Sasha said, taking paper off her straw and putting it in her iced tea. “And we totally get that sometimes parents and kids don’t see eye to eye on things.”
I knew I could have left it at that, my friends understanding and accepting what I’d told them. But now that I’d seen how much they cared about me, and how they had my back no matter what, I knew I owed them better. More than that, I knew I could trust them with the truth—the whole truth.
“I haven’t exactly told you everything,” I said, running my finger through the film of condensation on the side of my glass.
My friends looked at me, waiting but not judging. I could see that now that I was really looking.
So I took a deep breath. “It’s my mom,” I said. “She doesn’t like our Dog Club. At all. She thinks the shelter takes in too many older dogs, she doesn’t think we train them well, and she thinks the shelter is one big disaster zone.”
It felt so good to finally admit this out loud.
“Wow,” Taylor said, sitting back in the booth. “That’s a lot.”
The corners of Sasha’s mouth were turning down. “She told you all this?”
I nodded.
Taylor reached out and patted my hand. “That must have really hurt your feelings.”
Once again my eyes pricked with tears because I’d never thought about it quite like that before. I knew it made me mad, but Taylor was right: my mom’s remarks didn’t just anger me, they hurt me. “It really does,” I said with a gulp.
Kim’s brows scrunched together. “Have you ever told your mom how she makes you feel?”
“Um, actually, I just get angry and say mean stuff back,” I said, sending a guilty look toward Taylor. She knew how I could be when I got upset and didn’t think before letting the words fly out.
But Taylor just laughed. “Oh, Bri, you need anger management.”
That cracked me up and the others began laughing once I did.
“You might be right,” I said, taking a long sip of my strawberry lemonade, the tangy sweetness soothing me.
“But it sounds like your mom needs it even more,” Kim said with a frown. “She shouldn’t say stuff that makes you feel bad.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how much it upsets you,” Sasha added.
Just then two baskets piled high with crispy spiced sweet potato fries arrived at the table. “Eat up,” Kim’s mom said with a smile before heading back to the kitchen.
I realized I was starving and I also wanted to think for a second about what my friends were saying. Because it was very possible that they were right.
&n
bsp; “Sometimes parents need things explained,” Kim said after we’d inhaled half of the first basket and were ready to talk again. “Remember when my parents thought I’d be better off at private school?”
Finally a memory that I was part of. Though it made me shudder. It would have been awful if we’d lost Kim.
“And it took forever to get my mom to agree to a dog,” Sasha said.
“And you guys know how Anna and I misunderstood each other for ages,” Taylor added. “Bri, it sounds like maybe that’s kind of what’s happening with you and your mom.”
Maybe it was. I chewed a fry as I considered it.
“You know, I was kidding before about you needing anger management,” Taylor said. “Because honestly, Bri, you are being so much more thoughtful. Like I can see you taking a minute to think before you say stuff and you never did that before.”
“Yeah, I’ve been working on that,” I said, pleased she’d noticed.
“So maybe your mom can learn to do the same thing,” Sasha said. “Like my mom learned to live with a little dog hair.”
“I’m not sure,” I said. Would my mom really be willing to change?
“You should give it a try,” Kim encouraged me. “The worst thing that happens is that nothing changes.”
“And you’ll know you did your best,” Taylor said. “That’s always worth something. Though I do think your mom will feel bad she’s upset you so much.”
Something occurred to me. “You guys have never even met her,” I teased. “She could be the Wicked Witch of the West.”
“Impossible,” Taylor said, shaking a fry at me. “No one who cooks Chinese food as amazing as your mom’s is anything but a good witch.”
“She just wears a Pampered Puppy coat instead of a pink gown,” Sasha said with a giggle.
“It’s the fashionable look for today’s good witch,” Taylor said in a mock haughty voice. But then she looked at me seriously. “You should trust your mom enough to tell her your true feelings.”
She was right. And there were three other people I now knew I could trust with my real feelings, too.
“Thanks, you guys,” I said. “I’ll give it a try. And I have another confession.”
“Well, wait for the cupcakes,” Taylor said, feigning dismay. “Otherwise you’ll overwhelm us.”
Sasha laughed as she poked Taylor. “Go ahead, Bri,” she told me.
“Sometimes I feel left out when the four of us are together,” I said in a small voice, swishing my straw in the dregs of my lemonade. “You guys have so many memories together and traditions and favorite pizzas. I’m like the fourth wheel.”
Taylor frowned slightly. “Isn’t a fourth wheel a good thing? That’s what balances out the car. Or truck or whatever vehicle we are.”
I laughed a little at that. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense, but that’s how I think about it, like the three of you fit together and I’m kind of this add-on.”
Sasha tilted her head slightly. “You are a bit of a fourth wheel, Bri,” she said. “But the good kind, like Taylor was talking about. You’re the part we were missing.”
“I agree,” Kim said. “You give our group fire and passion.”
“You’re honest and tell it like it is,” Sasha added. “In a good way.”
“You come up with awesome ideas,” Taylor said. “And your designs are amazing.”
“Yeah, we’d be lost without you,” Sasha said. “We needed a fourth wheel and we’re lucky you came along.”
Their words had me feeling all fuzzy and warm. “Thanks, you guys,” I said. “I think you’re the best friends I’ve ever had.” It was true.
“Of course we are,” Taylor said with a grin. “We’re the best friends any of us have had.”
Kim’s mom set a tray of mini cupcakes in front of us, each frosted in a bright color.
“Okay, enough with the mushy stuff,” Taylor said, smiling as she grabbed a mint chocolate chip cupcake. “Let’s eat!”
But Sasha looked at me before digging in. “Anything else we should know?” she asked.
“Just one last thing,” I said.
My friends all looked at me, waiting.
“I really hate mushrooms!” I exclaimed.
And at that everyone burst out laughing.
14
I was stuffed after the Rox, but as soon as I got home I checked my mom’s menu on the whiteboard and began chopping up cabbage for dinner. I wanted everything to go smoothly because my friends were right: It was time for me to talk to my mom.
I waited until we were sitting down in front of steaming plates of moo shu pork that had magically restored my appetite. My mom was frowning and for a second my resolve wavered. But then I saw my mom glance toward Lily’s usual spot and the thought of my beloved dog and the shelter gave me the courage I needed.
“Mom, I have to talk to you about something,” I said, setting down my chopsticks.
My mom raised her eyebrows. “I hope it’s not about that dog,” she said.
The familiar burn of anger started in my belly, but I took a deep breath before answering. “It is, actually, and about the shelter, too,” I said calmly.
My mom scowled and then took a bite of her meal.
“Sometimes the way you talk about Lily and the shelter hurts my feelings,” I said.
My mom looked puzzled and I realized what my friends had said was true. My mom really didn’t know that she’d upset me. “What do you mean?” she asked. “How do I hurt your feelings?”
“When you call Lily ‘that dog,’” I said. “And the way you talk about the shelter like it’s this terrible place.”
My mom opened her mouth but I pushed on, knowing I needed to say it all and say it now, before I lost my nerve again. “I love the shelter,” I said. “It’s special to me. It’s like a second home, a place where I can just be myself, and my friends there are the best friends I’ve ever had.”
My mom sat back, looking surprised again. “I hadn’t realized that,” she said.
“I was really lonely when we first moved here,” I admitted, playing with one of my chopsticks. “Joining the Dog Club changed that.”
“Sweetie, I didn’t know you were having trouble making friends,” my mom said, concerned.
“I probably should have told you,” I said. “But I felt kind of embarrassed about it.”
My mom gave a small smile. “Making friends is hard,” she said. “I haven’t had much luck with it since we moved here either.”
And now I was the one who was surprised. Though as I thought about it I realized I shouldn’t have been. Back in DC my mom had gone out to movies with a crowd of neighbors, had a monthly book group, and was always meeting friends for coffee. But here she just worked. I’d assumed that was because starting a business was a challenge, but clearly it was more than that.
“I’m glad you told me,” I said.
My mom reached over and patted my hand. “Me too,” she said. “I think it’s made me a bit short tempered. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been somewhat callous about your Dog Club.”
That made a lot of sense.
“If the shelter is this important to you, I’ll be more respectful when I talk about it,” she continued. “And about that—I mean, about Lily, too.”
I smiled. “Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot to me.”
I noticed my mom look toward Lily’s spot again.
“You know, I think you miss Lily, too,” I said hopefully. Missing Lily felt like a permanent ache in my heart.
“Miss that spreader of dog hair?” my mom asked sharply, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Whoops,” she said. “This is going to take me some time to get used to.”
“You know, one of my problems when we first moved here was that I said stuff before I thought about it,” I said. “And sometimes what I said was pretty mean.”
My mom’s eyes stayed on me as she took a bite of pork. She really was trying to listen to me.
“So I’ve
been working on that, taking a deep breath before I respond to things that make me angry,” I said. “Maybe you could do that too.”
My mom nodded. “I think that’s excellent advice.” She smiled at me warmly. “Where did you get such wisdom, Bun?”
I grinned as I scooped up a big bite. “I inherited it from my mom.”
15
I was happy to have started working things out with my mom, but I still felt empty the next day when I woke up with no Lily. That was going to take a while to get used to. Or maybe I would always miss her just a little.
“How did it go?” Kim asked when I’d reached the corner where we met up before school. Sasha and Taylor were already there, listening eagerly.
“It was really good,” I said. There was a brisk breeze and we began walking toward school. “You guys were right. My mom really didn’t know that she was making me feel bad. She’s going to try to think before she says stuff, just like me.”
“Awesome,” Taylor said happily.
“Good for you for talking to her,” Kim said, smiling at me as the wind whipped her short hair against her cheeks.
“Yeah, that can be hard,” Sasha said. “But worth it.”
I thought of the new understanding I had of my mom, who was lonely just like I had been. And who was going to try to change the way she spoke to me because she loved me. “Yeah, totally worth it,” I agreed.
We stopped at the light and waited to cross.
“Bri, I love that bun,” Sasha said.
I’d done the sock bun again and fastened it with a bright pink band that matched my shirt. “Thanks,” I said. “I can show you how to do it if you want.”
“That would be awesome,” Sasha said happily.
“Maybe you can give me some hair advice, too,” Kim said as the light changed and we crossed. “I’m thinking of letting it grow, but I can never figure out how to style it and it just hangs in my eyes all day.”
“I’d love to,” I said, already considering what might work best with Kim’s soft, fine hair.
“See how much we need you, fourth wheel?” Taylor asked, grinning.