Rules of the Ruff

by Heidi Lang

“But the dogs—”

  “Can walk themselves, for all I care.” He grabbed a shoe off the rack by his door and chucked it over her head. Jessie let go of the door, and he slammed it shut and locked it.

  She stared at it. This . . . was not normal. Even for Wes. He was often openly hostile, but it was never about the dogs. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated and looked back at the shoe lying out in the middle of the yard. It had missed her by inches. Maybe . . . maybe it would be better to let Wes cool down a little. Give him some space.

  She pictured Angel, waiting for his walk.

  Jessie sighed and adjusted her hip pack. She could take care of Angel herself and then come back. By then, Wes would be ready. He’d have to be.

  But Wes wasn’t ready when she got back. Not even close. Jessie pounded on the door so long her hand ached and a neighbor yelled at her, and Wes never showed. What was going on with him? And what should she do?

  She thought of all the Rules. This seemed like a case for Rule Number Four: Always be ready. She couldn’t let the dogs down. There was only one thing to do: She’d have to walk them herself.

  But . . . she didn’t have a car.

  Jessie hesitated, then looked down at her feet. Always be ready.

  She always was.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jessie slowly trudged home, her whole body aching. She had never been so tired in her entire life, but she’d done it. She’d walked every single dog on Wes’s list, running to each house in between. Dogs who lived close enough were combined, but since she was on foot, most had to be walked individually. It made for a very long, very exhausting day. Her stomach was beyond empty, and a quick glance at her wristwatch told her it was already after five.

  She patted her trusty hip pack as she walked. It had served her well, but it would be nice to take it off.

  Wes’s house loomed just up ahead, and Jessie hesitated. Should she check on him? Or just leave him alone?

  She chewed her lip and decided she’d at least swing by. Maybe he’d be feeling better and could tell her how amazing she was for doing all the dogs on her own. She shook her head. This was Wes; he’d probably call her an irritating child and send her out the door. Still, secretly he’d be proud, she knew.

  But when she got to his house, she found she wasn’t the only one trying to visit.

  Hazel’s mom stood on the doorstep in jeans and a wrinkled shirt, her reddish-blond hair tumbling around her shoulders in a frizzy mess of curls. It was strange; she normally looked so elegant.

  “Can I help you?” Jessie asked.

  The woman spun and put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and startled. “You’re . . . you’re the girl who’s working with Wes, right?” she asked, lowering her hand.

  Jessie nodded. “And you’re Hazel’s mom.”

  “Right. Diana.” She smiled, but it was over quickly, a reflex, not an emotion. “I’ve been trying to reach Wes all day, to explain, but he’s not answering. Do you know if he’s home?”

  Suspicion pooled in the pit of Jessie’s stomach and congealed there like a bite of her aunt’s meatloaf. “Explain?” she asked slowly.

  “Well, I, um . . . maybe I should just come back later?” Diana glanced back at the closed door, then at Jessie.

  Jessie shifted just enough to block the porch stairs. “You didn’t hire another dog walker for Hazel, did you?”

  Diana’s eyes widened. “Um, I thought . . .” She stopped, pulled herself up straighter. “I thought it would be for the best.”

  Oh no. Oh no. Jessie clutched at the banister for support. This . . . this would destroy Wes.

  “Monique talked to me this weekend,” Diana continued.

  “H-how do you know Monique?” Jessie’s ears filled with the pounding of her pulse until it felt like she was underwater. Was this really happening?

  “Everyone knows Monique. And apparently Monique knows everyone,” she added, sniffing. “Including Sarah. Who Monique saw with Wes last week. On a date.” She sniffed again.

  “A . . . a date?” Jessie’s voice was a whisper, a husk, a shell.

  Diana seemed to crumble around the edges until she was as small and insubstantial as Jessie’s voice. “I thought he was moving on, but how is getting dinner with your ex moving on? And the picture . . .” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Monique was right about that, too. He still has a picture of Sarah on his fridge. How can we . . . I mean.” She rubbed her eyes. “It would be better if he didn’t watch Hazel anymore, if we cut all ties for now. Better for both of us, he’ll see it’s better . . . I just need a chance to explain . . .” Jessie realized Diana was talking to herself now, which was for the best; all of Jessie’s words had turned to ash in her mouth, choking her. All she could think was: her fault, her fault, her fault.

  He has a picture of his ex-wife on his refrigerator.

  She had told Max that, she had told him about the maybe-date. She’d given him all the information his mom needed to bring down Wes.

  Hazel is Wes’s favorite. He watches her, like, almost every day.

  Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jessie ran. She wasn’t sure where she was running, or why, she just knew her feet needed to move, her body needed to move, she needed to move. Her earlier exhaustion had dropped away, her hunger was forgotten. She was just wind and sweat and pumping arms.

  But no matter how hard she ran, how fast, she couldn’t feel empty. Her head was so full of hurt it spilled down into her heart. Her fault.

  She had betrayed Wes.

  Jessie’s feet slowed. She blinked blurry eyes and realized she’d ended up at the park. Of course, she had. Where else would her feet have taken her?

  Jessie sat on the closest bench and put her head in her hands. She’d have to go home soon, or she’d get in trouble, and she couldn’t afford that. If Wes wasn’t up for dog walking tomorrow, she’d have to take over again. It was her fault he’d lost Hazel; she couldn’t let him lose anyone else.

  Her fault.

  How did everything get so tangled? Obviously Diana liked Wes, and Jessie was pretty sure Wes liked her back. And Jessie had gone and messed all that up. Worse, without Hazel, Wes didn’t have a dog anymore. Again. She couldn’t stop thinking of him sitting in his chair, Hazel on his lap, both of them with their eyes half-closed. Everyone leaves you eventually.

  Jessie thought she might throw up.

  “Do you, like, live in the park now?”

  Jessie slowly lifted her head, her body filling with that same nameless dread it always did when she heard Loralee’s voice.

  The dread intensified into something harder and fiercer when she saw . . .

  “Max.” She said his name like a swear word, and he flinched and looked away, his fingers entwined with Loralee’s. Jessie stood up, her body stiff and cold despite the late afternoon heat. “You . . . you . . .” She couldn’t even find the words.

  Loralee pursed her glossy lips and looked back and forth between the two of them, then laughed. “Oh, Jessie,” she purred. “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie. You didn’t think Max really wanted to hang out with you, did you? He was just trying to get information.”

  “Hey, that’s not really . . .” Max began. Loralee’s fingers tightened around his, and he stopped and looked down at his feet.

  Jessie’s eyes filled with tears, and she ran the back of her hand across her face.

  “See, I told you. She’s such a child,” Loralee stage-whispered.

  “You don’t have to be nasty about it,” Max said, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “Look, Jess, it wasn’t . . . I mean, my mom asked me to do it. She’s my mom. I had to. But I . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

  Jessie didn’t, couldn’t, say anything.

  He shuffled his feet. “I didn’t think I told her anything that important.”

  “Maybe we should just go,” Loralee said.

  Max ignored her. “Look, Jessie, I’m sorry.”

  That apology knock
ed something loose inside Jessie. Her tears dried up and she looked him full in the face. “I hate you.” The words tumbled from her mouth like an avalanche. She was shaking. She’d never said those words to anyone. Not ever. Not even Loralee.

  Max’s eyes widened, his cheeks reddening like she’d just slapped him.

  She turned and walked away. Her ears were ringing, and she felt impossibly light, like all her insides had been scooped out and replaced by nothingness.

  Along the way her inner mantra changed.

  Her fault. Her fault. His fault.

  CHAPTER 30

  Tuesday morning, Jessie dragged herself out of bed. This time she borrowed Ann’s spare bike, throwing her hip pack and spare leashes on the basket in front before riding over to Wes’s house. She tried rehearsing what she would say, but once she reached his doorstep, all her pretty words dried in her mouth. She made herself knock anyway. And knock again. And keep knocking.

  “Go away,” Wes said from behind his door.

  “I need to talk to you.” Jessie kicked his door. Her hand was starting to hurt.

  A few minutes later, she stopped. Clearly Wes was never going to open his door again. She could picture it nailed shut, wood boards crisscrossed in front of it, chains rattling around the doorknob.

  She sighed and sat on his porch, the early morning cloudy and cold as it pressed around her. Her gaze dropped to the ceramic coaster Wes always left out here. It looked dusty, the blue-gray pattern so faded that she wasn’t sure what it was supposed to resemble. All she was sure of was that Wes had to start walking dogs again, because the end of summer wasn’t that far away. Soon Jessie would be leaving behind all her old friends, Angel and Sweetpea and all the others. She needed to make sure they were in good hands. She needed to make sure they were with Wes.

  She thought back through all the Rules of the Ruff, but none of them really covered a situation like this. How could you make someone listen to you if they didn’t want to?

  Creak.

  Jessie leapt to her feet.

  Wes stood in his doorway, his hair a tangle around his head, his clothes wrinkled and smelling none too clean. “What part of ‘go away’ did you not understand? The ‘go’? Or the ‘away’?”

  Jessie cringed. Wes being rude was nothing new, but the fury radiating off him made her feel like she was standing next to an angry sun. “I don’t understand the why,” she managed, her throat tight.

  Wes glared at her, and she noticed how puffy his eyes looked. Almost like he’d been crying. Did . . . did adults cry?

  A flash of memory. Her father clutching her mother’s favorite shirt, his face scrunched, body curled around it like it was a living thing he had to protect . . .

  Jessie dropped that memory as fast as she could.

  “‘The why’?” Wes demanded.

  “W-why are you hiding out in there? Your dogs need you.”

  He snorted. “They’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”

  “Do you know what Monique said about the dogs?” Jessie demanded.

  “I’m sure I don’t care.”

  “She said they were ‘just dogs.’ Does that sound like bigger or better to you? She doesn’t love them, not like you do. And Hazel . . .” Wes flinched as if she’d struck him, and she hurried on. “Hazel loves you, I know she does. I know she misses you.” Jessie took a deep breath. “Please, Wes. At least try to get her back. So many of the others have come back to you. Don’t give up. Would . . . would a dog give up?”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “Get her back?” he asked softly.

  “She misses you,” Jessie repeated.

  It looked like he was really considering it, like Jessie had actually reached him, but then he just stepped back inside and shut the door in her face.

  Jessie yelped, almost tumbling backward off the porch steps. “Fine!” she shouted. “See if I care!” She wiped at her face, because she was not crying. She was not crying. She was . . .

  She was definitely crying. But she couldn’t decide if it was because she was sad or angry. She just knew it wasn’t fair, none of this was fair, and she didn’t know how to fix it, and it was all her fault. Sniffing, she wiped her face on her shirt and picked up Ann’s bike.

  Maybe she really should just give up, go home, go back to bed. She thought of the third Rule of the Ruff: Know when to leave it. Maybe . . . maybe this was one of those times?

  Jessie hesitated. And then she remembered something else, something Wes had said a while back. Some dogs will sit in the same spots, staring at their front doors all day long, just waiting for their owners to show up. She shook her head. She couldn’t do that to them, couldn’t leave them waiting like that. She would continue to walk these dogs until Wes took over, or until her dad came and picked her up.

  CHAPTER 31

  That night, Jessie ate everything her aunt put in front of her, didn’t say anything all through the meal, and went right to bed afterward. Ann tried asking her if she was all right, but Jessie didn’t have language for how she was feeling, like she was the last dregs of a soap bottle and someone kept adding water to keep her going.

  She fell asleep with that image in her mind and slept soundly and dreamlessly until the beeping of the alarm woke her the next morning. Before she could move, Ann turned it off.

  “Thanks,” Jessie mumbled, struggling to get out of bed. Everything hurt. Her arms were so tired from holding all those leashes, she thought they might fall right off her shoulders. And her legs . . . she didn’t even want to think about her legs. Biking had not been kind to her. And her butt. Oh, her butt. She groaned. And she had Angel to walk first thing this morning.

  Jessie glanced outside Ann’s bedroom window. The sky was already a deep gray, heavy with the threat of rain. It looked like her heart.

  “What is going on with you?” Ann asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Really? Because a whole lot of ‘nothing’ seems to have hit you like a bus.” Ann turned on the light, and Jessie squinted against it. “Last night, you ate my mom’s cooking and didn’t complain at all. And I know she put extra onions in it. I watched her do it.”

  Jessie felt ill. “Why? Why would she do that?”

  Ann shrugged. “The point is, you didn’t notice. You just ate it. And then you slept like you were dead. So. What are you up to? Does this have something to do with the dogs? With Max?”

  “Don’t you say his name!” Jessie snapped, exhaustion evaporating in a burst of fury. “I don’t ever want to hear his name again.”

  Ann blinked. “Whoa. OK, clearly something happened.” She leaned forward. “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jessie looked away, chewing her lip.

  “Fine. I didn’t want to hear about it anyhow.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “No, it’s probably boring stuff.” Ann looked down at her nails, clearly already bored.

  “It’s not boring!” Jessie scowled at her cousin and then found herself spilling the whole story, from Max asking her questions about Wes’s ex-wife to Diana taking Hazel away. “I can’t let Wes lose his business, too. I have to keep walking dogs for him until he gets over it, or he’ll have nothing left,” she finished.

  Ann smiled.

  “What’s funny?” Jessie demanded. “This is very serious, very not-boring stuff.”

  “You’re funny. That reverse psychology stuff always works on you.”

  “It does not—” Jessie stopped, her heart sinking. “OK, maybe sometimes it works,” she admitted.

  “If by ‘sometimes’ you mean ‘always,’ then yes.” Ann’s smile widened. “But I’m glad. And I’m glad you told me. It’s definitely not boring, and Ma—er, he who must not be named, is a total jerk.”

  Even Jessie had to smile at that reference.

  “So I’ve decided,” Ann said, “that I’ll help you.”

  “Y-you’ll . . . what?”

  “I’ll help you walk the dogs.�
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  “I don’t need any help.”

  “Jessie, you’re going to kill yourself. And I . . .” She fiddled with her hair, not looking up. “I don’t really have anything else to do.”

  Jessie remembered how she’d felt at the start of summer, like she was staring at an impossibly large, impossibly boring blank page. Yeah, and whose fault was that? Ann had chosen to hang out with Loralee instead of with her.

  She opened her mouth to say that, then stopped. Wes’s words echoed through her head: Everyone leaves you eventually, and she pictured him sitting there, alone. No Hazel, no Diana, nothing but his LEGO sets to keep him company, his door shut and locked against the rest of the world.

  Maybe sometimes people could come back to you, too. If you let them.

  “All right, you can help,” Jessie decided.

  “Really?” Ann’s whole face lit up. She must have been really bored.

  “Yes. But only on one condition.” Jessie couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she said, “You’ll have to master the Rules of the Ruff.”

  “The what of the what?”

  “You’ll have to learn to think like a dog, to act like a dog, to be a dog.”

  Ann shook her head. “You are such a weirdo. But fine. I’m in.”

  “Let’s get started.” Jessie thought of their first walk of the day and chuckled. “I have just the dog for you . . .”

  “Calm, confident energy, Ann,” Jessie instructed.

  “I am calm.” Ann’s voice was strained, her arms shaking as she held on to the leash. “Don’t I look calm?”

  “Who’s walking who?” a passerby asked.

  Ann’s mouth fell open and she turned to Jessie. “Why would someone even ask that?”

  Jessie shrugged. “Get used to it. It gets worse.”

  “Hey there, little lady. Need a sled?” someone else called as they jogged past.

  Ann’s nostrils flared. “I’ll give you a sled,” she muttered.

  “Easy there, little lady.” Jessie giggled.

  “Watch it—oof!” Angel lunged forward, dragging Ann until she managed to get her feet under her and pull back on the leash.