Rules of the Ruff

by Heidi Lang

  For Sean, who taught me to seek adventure. I'm forever grateful that I get to explore these strange trails with you.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Lang, Heidi, author.

  Title: Rules of the Ruff / by Heidi Lang.

  Description: New York: Amulet Books, [2018] | Summary: Jessie, twelve, copes with what promised to be a long, boring summer with relatives by becoming apprentice to Wes, a grouchy neighborhood dog walker, who is facing new competition. Identifiers: LCCN 2017054250 | ISBN 9781419731372 (hardcover with jacket) | eISBN 9781683354055 Subjects: | CYAC: Dog walking—Fiction. | Dogs—Fiction. | Summer employment—Fiction. | Cousins—Fiction. Classification: LCC PZ7.1.L3436 Rul 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  Text copyright © 2018 Heidi Lang

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 Julia Bereciartu

  Jacket and book design by Alyssa Nassner

  Jacket copyright © 2018 Amulet Books

  Published in 2018 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

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  “WHOEVER SAID DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL’S BEST FRIEND NEVER OWNED A DOG.”

  —Author unknown

  CHAPTER 1

  Jessie knew persistence was the key to getting anything she wanted. She liked to picture herself as a trickle of water, slowly and endlessly dripping, wearing down stones and filling oceans.

  “How many times have I told you no, you irritating child?” Wes asked her. His tone was gruff and discouraging, but at least he’d opened his front door again at her knock. That was a good sign.

  “I don’t keep track of things like that.” Jessie smiled her best smile, the one she’d seen her dad use whenever he needed something. “I only focus on the positive. And right now, I’m positive that you’re getting tired of telling me no.”

  Wes ran two fingers up and down the deep groove between his eyebrows, as if he thought he might be able to smooth it out. He was a funny-looking man, what with those bushy eyebrows and that too-wide nose, his gray-blond hair long enough that it brushed his shoulders and floated around his head. “I work alone. Alone,” he said, drawing out the word.

  “You can still work alone. I’d just come along and help out.”

  “Do you even understand the meaning of the word ‘alone’?”

  “Of course I do. But in this case, I think I could be a huge asset to you.”

  “‘Asset,’ huh?” His scowl twitched around the edges. “That’s a pretty fancy word for a kid. How old are you?”

  Jessie’s heart leapt at the question. Usually, he’d have slammed the door in her face by now. “Twelve,” she said.

  “And what’s your name again?”

  “Jessie. Jessie Jamison.”

  He winced. “Terrible alliteration.”

  “My dad’s name is James Jamison.”

  “Then he should have known better.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Jessie said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a very nice man. And frankly, you’re not a very nice child. A nice child would have gone away by now. A nice child would have listened when I said no the first, oh, seven hundred times.”

  Jessie nodded slowly. “OK,” she said. “OK, I’m probably not nice. But I’m a hard worker, and I really, really love dogs. And I’m not even asking you to pay me. Just take me on, just for a week, and see how it goes.” She needed this job. Without it, her summer would be an endless stretch of desolation, a desert island with nothing to do and no one to do it with.

  “A week, eh?” Wes hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his hip pack and studied her. “Don’t you have friends to bother? Or video games to play? Or whatever it is you kids do these days?”

  “No.”

  “No?” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Elaborate.”

  Jessie took a deep breath. “I’m visiting my cousin for the summer, and right now, she hates me. I don’t have any other friends out here. And I don’t really like video games; it’s too much sitting around.”

  “I’ve noticed you have trouble staying in one place.”

  Jessie paused, her weight on her left foot. She realized she’d been hopping from foot to foot this whole time and carefully lowered her right foot to the ground. “I can stand still if I need to. If it is important for the job.”

  Wes sighed. “Look, kid, the whole reason I became a dog walker was so I wouldn’t have to deal with people. And you are a particularly irritating person.”

  Jessie couldn’t argue with that. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up, not when they’d just had their longest conversation yet. He was definitely weakening; she just needed to give him one more good push.

  He started to close the door in her face.

  “Wait!” Jessie moved fast, sticking her foot in the way. “You at least have to admit I’ve been doggedly determined.”

  He stared at her, the door falling open again. “Please tell me you did not just say that.”

  “If you give me a job, I’ll stop hounding you.”

  “Please stop.” He kept his mouth in a firm upside-down U, but his blue eyes twinkled, and Jessie knew he wanted to laugh. “If I take you on, will you stop these terrible dog puns?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll put them on paws.”

  He rubbed the groove between his eyebrows again and muttered, “Can’t believe I’m doing this.” Dropping his hand, he looked Jessie up and down. “Fine. Fine, irritating small person, I will take you on.”

  Triumph surged through Jessie. She’d done it. She would get to meet not one, not two, but probably a dozen dogs. Maybe more. How many dogs did Wes walk? It didn’t matter; she would love them all, and they would love her back. They wouldn’t abandon her or give her that look like her very existence was too annoying for words. “Thank you, thank you—”

  He held up his hand, stopping her. “I’ll take you on . . . but only on one condition.”

  Jessie swallowed. “Yes?”

  Wes smiled, and suddenly Jessie was filled with a sense of foreboding, like she’d just stepped in a deep sucking pool of mud. He leaned toward her. “You’ll have to master the Rules of the Ruff.”

  “Wh-what are those?”

  “They are the code I live my life by. You’ll learn to think like a dog, to act like a dog, to be a dog.” He straightened. “Come back tomorrow morning. Seven sharp. Your training starts then.” He disappeared back into his house, closing the door with a final-sounding click.

  Jessie stared at that closed door, her eyes tracing the peeling white paint.

  Seven in the morning, in the summer. Did he have any idea how early that was? She slowly walked down the three steps to the sidewalk and turned left. Maybe Wes was just trying to discourage her. Well, it wouldn’t work. She could get up early, if she had to. She could learn to be a dog, too. She would master these Rules of the Ruff if it was t
he last thing she did.

  As she followed the sidewalk, she pushed her bangs off her forehead, glad she’d chopped her thick, curly hair short before coming out here to Elmsborough, Ohio, for the summer. It was almost ten in the morning now, and the day’s heat had already begun to build. She imagined the heat as a large, soggy blanket that someone was holding just above her head. Even though it wasn’t touching her yet, she could feel the threat of it being dropped on her.

  Jessie made another left. Up ahead was Elm Park, her favorite part of this whole place. She loved how big it was, so huge she couldn’t see the circular pond at the far end. Most of the park was flat and grassy, surrounded by a winding trail lined with the elm trees that gave it its name. In the far corner stood a swing set and jungle gym that she and Ann used to play on, back when they were kids. Back when Ann was still fun. Back when she was still Ann and not Ann-Marie. Jessie scowled as she passed by the swings, then decided she’d wasted enough time thinking about her stupid cousin.

  Her soccer ball was still crammed under the bushes where she’d hidden it. Jessie crouched low and dug it out, then tossed it from hand to hand. If she wanted to be a starter when school began, she needed to keep her skills sharp. It was hard, though; all her favorite drills required at least two people. If only Ann would . . . but no.

  Jessie dropped the soccer ball, enjoying the sound it made as it crushed the grass, that crinkly noise, so full of promise. She rolled her shoulders and did a few quick lunges and stretches. Then she picked up the ball and started juggling with it. She eased into it, hitting the ball first with her feet, working it up to her knees, and then finally bouncing it up and off her head.

  “Not bad.”

  Jessie whirled around. The ball fell from her head, bouncing to the ground and rolling until it was stopped by a sneaker-clad foot. Jessie’s eyes traced that foot up. White sock. Brown shin. Black shorts.

  A tall boy with huge brown eyes smiled down at her.

  “What do you want?” Jessie demanded.

  His grin slipped a little. “Well, I guess I was hoping you were looking for a partner.”

  “A partner?”

  “You know, for soccer drills.”

  “Soccer drills.” Jessie eyed him. He looked like he was in good enough shape. Still. “How do I know you don’t suck? I mean, I don’t want to be saddled with someone terrible.”

  “I don’t suck. Watch this.” He took off his faded baseball cap. His thick black hair was even curlier than Jessie’s, and he shoved it back from his face and stuffed his hat over it backward, then scooped up her soccer ball. He dropped it, catching it on one outstretched foot and balancing it there. Then he bounced it up and ducked under it, catching it on the top of his head and balancing it there for a few seconds, too. He bounced it again, catching it on his left shoulder, then his right, then his knees and thighs. That took control, serious control. Jessie was impressed in spite of herself.

  He grinned at her and finally let the ball drop down. “Pretty good, right?”

  She scowled. She didn’t like his cocky attitude. “Do you actually know how to play soccer or just a bunch of fancy tricks?”

  “I know how to play.” He sounded hurt.

  “Oh yeah? Well, what position?”

  “Center forward.”

  “How many goals have you scored?”

  “Total, or per game?”

  Jessie thought about it for a second. “Per game.”

  “My best game, I scored eight, with two assists.”

  That wasn’t bad. Jessie decided she’d never tell him her own best record, which was only five goals in a game with three assists. “Fine,” she said reluctantly. “I guess you can play with me.”

  “Well, how do I know you don’t suck?”

  Jessie noticed his incisors were a little longer and sharper than most people’s. They dimpled his bottom lip when he smiled, giving him a mischievous look, like a fox. “I don’t suck,” she said. “And I don’t need to show off to prove it, either. We can play one-on-one, and I’ll show you.”

  “Confident. I like it. I’m Max, by the way.” He stuck out his hand.

  “Jessie.” She shook it, feeling strangely grown up.

  He squinted at her a second, like he was sizing her up, then nodded. “All right, let’s do this.”

  Max ended up winning, but not by much. Still, Jessie hated to lose to anyone. “One more,” she said, wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Winner takes all.”

  Max laughed, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges, almost closing. “OK, one more—”

  “Jessie!”

  Jessie turned, and her heart plummeted. Her cousin was stalking toward her through the grass, her narrow face twisted in annoyance. Behind her trailed a tall girl with long, chestnut-brown hair and overly glossy lips. Those lips curled in a smile at the sight of Jessie. It was the kind of smile a cat would give a small, injured bird, and Jessie shivered and looked away from her. If she ignored Loralee, maybe Loralee would leave her alone.

  “Hi Ann.” Jessie nodded at her cousin. “What’s up?”

  “It’s Ann-Marie,” Ann said firmly. “And Mom is furious you’ve been gone so long. You’d better come home now.”

  Loralee looked Jessie up and down. “I see your dad is still lending you his shirts. How . . . nice.”

  “Shut up, Loralee.” Jessie tugged self-consciously at her overlarge T-shirt, very aware of Max standing behind her.

  “Shut up, Loralee,” the other girl mocked. And then her eyes slid past Jessie and widened. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you actually made a friend.” She wiggled her fingers at Max. “Hello.”

  “Hey,” Max said, his voice deeper than it had been a moment ago.

  “I’m Loralee.”

  “Max,” he said, smiling his fox smile.

  “Are you new? I’ve never seen you before. I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”

  “Loralee, we should go,” Ann whispered, but Loralee ignored her.

  His smile widened. “Yeah, I moved here about a month ago with my mom.”

  “Hmm. Well it was nice of you to play with Jessie,” Loralee said, like Max was doing her such a big favor.

  “I wasn’t being nice.” Max’s smile dropped away, and he looked annoyed. Jessie could have hugged him. “We were having a good game.”

  “Oh yeah?” Loralee glanced at Jessie, her eyes hardening. “Well, I’m sorry we interrupted, then.”

  “Nah, it was over. He’s pretty good, but I’m better.” Max grinned and punched Jessie in the shoulder. “Right?”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Jessie felt frozen in it, until Loralee’s squeal of laughter shattered the ice and there was nothing but fire—fire in Jessie’s cheeks, fire in her ears, fire behind her eyes.

  “Oh . . . my . . . god!” Loralee shrieked. “He thinks you’re a boy!” She turned to Ann. “Isn’t that just the funniest thing?”

  Ann looked uncomfortable. “I guess so,” she said.

  Jessie just pushed past them all and started home. She didn’t want them to see her cry.

  “Uh, sorry, Jessie,” Max called after her, sounding awkward. “I didn’t mean . . . I mean, I didn’t know. Um, see you around later? You know, for our rematch?”

  Jessie kept walking, but she lifted one arm in a wave, as if it didn’t matter to her. Then she let her arm fall. It felt heavy. Her whole body felt heavy, but she forced her legs to move, move, move, and as soon as she turned the corner, she ran all the way back to her cousin’s house. She didn’t feel like a trickle of water anymore. She felt like the stones beneath the water, worn away. Beaten.

  CHAPTER 2

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  Jessie turned over, pulling the blankets over her head.

  Beep-beep. Beep-beep.

  She pressed her ears into her pillow, chasing sleep.

  Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!

  “Turn that thing off!”

  Jessie bolted uprig
ht. She blinked around the darkened room, blearily making out her cousin’s annoyed face on the other side, and between them, growing increasingly angry, her small white alarm clock. Jessie turned it off.

  “Thank you,” Ann huffed. “Why did you set an alarm? And so early?”

  “I have things to do,” Jessie said, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “What could you possibly have to do today?”

  “Like I’m going to tell you.” Jessie got up and pulled her suitcase out from under her cot, rummaging around for something to wear. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Jessie . . . Mom’s not going to like you sneaking out in the morning.”

  Jessie found a shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants and turned to face her cousin. “Are you going to tell her?”

  Ann bit her lip. She was lying on her side, her head propped on her hand, her blond hair a tangle around her head. Jessie remembered all the summer nights they’d spent in mirroring poses like that, gossiping, telling stories, making plans. Things had started changing last summer, but they’d still had fun together. Up until that moment, that excruciating, humiliating moment that Jessie refused to think about.

  This summer, though, Ann was like a stranger to her—a stranger she didn’t particularly like. Ann was only two years older, but now it felt like an impossible gap, and Jessie could picture it growing wider and wider, as if her cot was sliding away from Ann’s bed, from Ann’s side of the room, from Ann’s life.

  “No,” Ann said finally. “Go do whatever it is. But if you get in trouble, I’m not going to back you up, either.”

  Jessie snorted. “Don’t worry, Ann-Marie,” she said, emphasizing the name. “I remember you don’t like to stick up for me. Not anymore.”

  Ann flinched. “Jess, I’m sorry. About Loralee. I know she can seem a little . . . but she means well, really.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Loralee had spent the rest of the day at their house yesterday, and Jessie had been forced to endure the other girl’s taunts, since Aunt Beatrice had forbidden her from leaving the house again. Dinner had been particularly painful. “Loralee is a mean girl. And you’re . . .” She stopped, took a deep breath. “You’re worse. You’re supposed to be my cousin.”