Walking the Dog

by Linda Benson

  The black Lab is gone from the second kennel. Adopted, it says on his card. Sophie smiles over at me. I hope he got a kind owner this time. Maybe he’ll learn to actually trust people again.

  Sophie chooses a terrier with snarls in his coat, and I put a leash on a black cocker spaniel with big eyes and long velvet ears. As Sophie chirps to her charge and pushes the door open leading outside, I wish for just a moment that my parents could see how good she is with animals. A little shiver of guilt runs through me, knowing I’m going against their wishes, but it dissolves in a minute. My parents have never even met Sophie. All they know is something bad happened to her in her past. How can they possibly know what she’s like now?

  Sophie and I sit on each end of the outside bench. The dogs race around the yard, chasing each other. The little terrier nips the cocker on his back legs and jets away so fast the other dog looks confused. Then the black cocker tears across the yard trying to catch him while the terrier feints and dodges in front of him. Sophie and me collapse on the bench in a fit of giggles.

  “Jared!” I hear my name shouted and I sit up sharply, thinking I’m in trouble. Did my parents find out about me and Sophie?

  It’s Gloria hollering, and she shouts my name again, rushing outside with a cordless phone in her hand. “You better take this call. It’s your mother. Your little brother is missing!”

  Chapter 17—Where is Pete?

  “JARED!” MY MOTHER’S VOICE is frantic on the phone. “Did Pete follow you up to the shelter?”

  “I don’t think so. We…I mean, I…haven’t seen him.”

  “His bike’s gone. I’ve gone back and forth along the street looking for him, and I’m worried sick.”

  “I’ll ride my bike back down the hill, and I’ll help look too. Maybe he just went around the corner or something.” I try to say something to stop her from worrying. “He’s not a baby. He’s probably okay.”

  “He’s only eight years old, Jared. Anything could have happened to him.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll come right home. I’ll help look.”

  I hand the phone back to Gloria. Sophie’s been watching me the whole time, searching my face.

  “I’ve gotta go,” I say to Gloria, as I hand her the leash to my dog.

  “I’m coming too,” says Sophie. “I’ll help you look.”

  An awkward feeling flashes across my mind. Maybe Sophie should stay here at the animal shelter. What if Mom and Dad find out that I’ve been with her every Monday and Thursday? I’ll be in a whole heap of trouble.

  But I push that thought away. “Come on. If we search both sides of the street, maybe one of us can spot him.”

  We pull our bikes out from the bushes behind the shelter. Sophie peers down the steep slope of the canyon into the dense undergrowth.

  “What are you looking at?” I ask. “Let’s go.”

  “I was trying to see anything orange. Petey accidentally let the cat go, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe he’s out looking for him,” says Sophie.

  “That sounds crazy. He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

  “You’re his brother,” she says. “What do you think?”

  I replay the events of the day before in my memory. I remember Petey standing lost and forlorn at the edge of the parking lot yesterday. He even tried to go over the fence and get the cat.

  And this morning when he wanted to come up to the shelter with me. My orange cat, he said. I want to get my orange cat.

  “You might be right,” I say. “Maybe he’s trying to find that stupid cat.” My eyes scan the deep ravine. “But where?”

  “Let’s ride super slow back down the road,” says Sophie. She seems confident and sure of herself, just like that day at school when Lester ran out of the building and into the path of the onrushing vehicle. “You look on the right side of the road, and I’ll look on the left. Let’s go!”

  “Petey! Peeteey!” I call out his name. The road is so steep we have to stand on our brakes to make our bikes go slow enough. Finally we give up and walk our bikes down the hill. Sophie is balancing her three-speed with one hand, searching the bushes and calling at the same time.

  I’m starting to worry now. Pete couldn’t have pedaled all the way up this hill. His arm still isn’t very strong, and I don’t think he could push his bike up this steep slope. On my side of the road, there is thick brush and a gravel bank. But on Sophie’s side, the road falls away into the rugged canyon where a few tall trees twist upwards toward the sun.

  Where is Pete? And where’s the orange cat? A wave of guilt washes over me. I should have been spending more time with my brother. If only I’d been home throwing the ball for him instead of disobeying my parents and seeing Sophie on the sly, this never would’ve happened. I should’ve been a better brother.

  “Let’s go on back down to my house,” I say. “Maybe Mom has found him by now.” I hope so.

  “Wait, Jared. Look down there.” Sophie points over the steep side of the hill. “What’s that?”

  I dump my bike on its side and race across the road. My heart turns over in my chest. It’s almost like deja vu, the eerie feeling that I’ve seen this before. There is Petey’s new green bike, the one Dad bought him after the accident. The bike lies twisted in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the canyon.

  Chapter 18—A Long Drop

  MY MIND STUMBLES BACKWARDS to the day of the accident last year. Racing home from school, Pete was pedaling behind me, but I was cruising at a high rate. I was already across the street and halfway down the block when I heard a screech of brakes behind me and then a sickening thud. When I looked back, Pete’s bike lay in the street crumpled like a paper clip, and Pete was flat on the pavement. I thought he might be dead. When I got to him, his face was ghostly white. He tried to smile, but his eyes were wild and scared. His ripped-open pant leg showed a long, ugly gash on his leg, but the worst part was his arm. Bile rose in my throat when I saw the raw white broken bone of his arm poking up through his skin.

  Now, staring into the canyon, there’s a long skid track in the gravel where the bike slid downward, landing hideously at the bottom. But where’s Pete? Please make him be okay, God. I’m suddenly sick in my gut with sorry. I’m sorry I tried to race Pete home that day of the accident when I knew he couldn’t keep up with me. I’m sorry for not watching out better for my little brother since then. I’m sorry that I lied about meeting Sophie up at the shelter. I’m sorry for a whole lot of things.

  But where is my brother?

  Sophie and I scramble down the steep slope. We stumble and slide and lose our balance on the loose shale. When we reach bottom, I get a good glimpse of Petey’s bike. The front tire lies twisted and warped.

  “Petey,” I yell, but it comes out scratchy. I’m scared now. Scared for my brother. “Where are you, bud?”

  I begin to tromp through ferns and thick berry bushes lining the bottom of the ravine. It’s so dark in here I can barely see anything.

  Sophie’s in front of me, calling for Pete. Her blonde hair floats up ahead like a beacon.

  “Jared,” she hollers back. “I think I see him.”

  What? I wade through the muck of a small stream trickling down the hill. Scrambling across some loose rocks, I head partway up the other side.

  “Look up there.” She points toward a massive oak tree.

  I focus my eyes up into the tree. Impossibly, Pete is perched on a branch of an enormous oak. He lies almost entirely horizontal, his small arms wrapped tight around a sideways limb. About ten feet farther up the tree, near the very top, I spot the ruffled orange cat, staring at us with unmoving eyes.

  “Pete, are you okay?” I call out to him.

  He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t do anything. He just lies there like he’s in a trance. How did Pete get up there? How did he even make it across the ravine and up into this tree? And why doesn’t he answer?

  I scramble toward the base of the tree, reaching along the gnarled bar
k for a handhold to pull myself up. But my hand slips again and again, and I slide back down. How did Pete climb this tree with his weak arm?

  “It’s okay, Pete,” I holler up to where he lies stretched out along the branch like a caterpillar. “I’m coming to get you.”

  I think I see his head move just a fraction. The branch leans dangerously over the deepest part of the ravine. Now that I’m closer, I can see why he’s hanging on so tight. If he slipped, it would be a long, long way to fall.

  I try to find a toehold—anywhere to stick my foot so I can rise a foot or two higher and reach another place to grab. But my feet fail clumsily, and each time they slip, I feel more and more helpless.

  “Let me stand on your shoulders,” says Sophie. “I think I can reach him that way.”

  “But I should be the one to get him. He’s my brother.”

  “Yeah, but you’re stronger than me,” she says. “You can give me a boost up and then help us both back to the ground.”

  “Okay.” I don’t want to argue about it—I just want to get Pete down. I hope this works. I clasp my hands together, and Sophie places her foot on them.

  She reaches for my shoulders, and then I feel her weight on top of me as she places one foot on each shoulder. “You’re gonna to be okay, little dude,” Sophie sings out to Pete, like she’s talking to a frightened animal. “We’re going to get you down from there. Just hang on, little guy.”

  I hug tight to the tree with both hands, balancing her.

  “I can’t reach, Jared,” she says. “I need to be a little higher.”

  With all my strength, I rise up on my toes.

  “Almost, almost,” she says. “There, I’ve got it.”

  I feel Sophie’s weight lift off me. As I step back, I see that she’s grasped a limb and found a toehold in the crinkled bark of the old tree. She struggles mightily and pulls herself out onto the branch where Petey clings.

  “Hey, Pete,” she murmurs. “Were you trying to get that cat?” She points toward the old orange cat, who sits like a sphinx at the top of the tree.

  Petey’s head bobs up and down. The limb he’s holding sways gently, and he grips it frantically. His voice squeaks, so small and pitiful you can hardly hear him. “I—I’m sc-scared.”

  “Maybe I should go for help,” I say to no one in particular. I feel totally worthless, just standing here on the ground. I remember my mother’s words. He’s only eight years old. If Petey loses his grip and falls, he could break his arm again or worse. It’s a long drop into the rocky ravine.

  “No,” Pete cries out. “Don’t go, Jared. Don’t leave.”

  Chapter 19—Vanilla, Chocolate, or Orange Sherbet

  “I WON’T LEAVE YOU,” I say. “I promise.” Pete’s head turns toward me, and our eyes lock. He’s got a death grip on the tree. “I’m right here, and Sophie’s up there with you. Remember Sophie, from school?” For some reason I think if we keep talking to Pete, and he keeps answering, he’ll be all right.

  Pete nods once.

  “Hey, Pete,” says Sophie, in the same soothing voice she uses on the scared dogs at the kennel. “You need to let go of the branch and back up real slow.”

  “I-I can’t. I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t blame you for being afraid,” she says. “I’m not really sure how you got up here in the first place. I didn’t know you could climb trees so well. Are you part cat?”

  Pete giggles and turns his gaze toward Sophie. But the slight movement disturbs his balance, and the limb shakes with his weight.

  “Hang on, Petey,” I holler up to him.

  “I bet I can make you say ‘No, I haven’t’,” says Sophie, but why is she talking nonsense to Pete?

  “What?” he squeaks.

  “Let’s pretend that one day you walk along a street, and you go into an ice cream parlor, and the waitress says ‘What’ll you have: vanilla, chocolate, or orange sherbet?’ Which one do you choose?”

  What is she talking about? I glance up at Pete. He clings so hard to the tree, it seems like his weight will break the branch. I need to get up in that tree myself, somehow, and get him down. Now.

  “Chocolate.” Pete’s small voice pierces my heart.

  “Okay.” Sophie starts in again with the same question. As she talks she inches her way farther and farther out on the branch. “The very next day you walk down the same street. You go into the same ice cream parlor, and the waitress says, ‘What’ll you have: vanilla, chocolate, or orange sherbet?’ And which one do you pick now?”

  Even from down here, I can see Pete’s face soften and the rigid mask of fear give over to a grin. “I don’t know,” he says. “Vanilla?” He relaxes his hold on the branch and leans closer to Sophie.

  “So,” she continues. “On the third day you walk down the very same street, and you go into the exact same ice cream parlor, and the very same waitress asks you the very same question. ‘What will you have: vanilla, chocolate, or orange sherbet?’ And what do you say?”

  Pete laughs out loud and sits all the way up, hands still clutching the branch. He’s concentrating so hard on answering the question, it’s almost like he forgets he’s scared.

  “Orange sherbet!” He practically shouts it.

  Sophie’s only about two feet away from Pete now. She could almost grab hold of him, but if he panicked, they’d both fall.

  My hearts thumps against my shirt.

  “You must’ve heard this joke before,” Sophie says.

  Pete looks bewildered and eases his grip on the branch. He scoots over, sidling up next to Sophie. “What d’you mean?” he says.

  Sophie’s face shows nothing. “I’m sure you’ve heard this joke before.”

  “No, I haven’t,” says Pete.

  “Made you say it. Made you say it!” Sophie chortles. “I made you say the words ‘No, I haven’t.’”

  Pete looks unsure. “You…you played a trick on me.”

  Now I remember. Somebody played that stupid trick on me a couple of years ago, and I’d already forgotten it. Petey fell for it just like I did.

  “Was that fun? Are you okay now?” says Sophie, putting an arm around Pete’s small body and pulling him close. “Do you think you can remember that joke?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Here,” says Sophie. “Let me hand you down to Jared.”

  I stretch my arms up, and Sophie carefully lifts Pete down until his feet touch my shoulders, and I grasp him firmly around the ankles. “I got you, bud.”

  But he won’t release his grip on Sophie. “What about the kitty?” he wails.

  “The kitty has claws,” she says. “He can run up and down this tree whenever he wants to, don’t worry about that.”

  This seems to appease my brother, and when he finally lets go, I grab his small body and set him gently on the ground.

  I brace my body against the tree one last time so that Sophie can place her feet on my shoulders and inch her way down.

  I hug Pete against me, and I shudder thinking about what could have happened. But my little brother’s not harmed. He’s all in one piece, he’s okay. I let out a deep breath that I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I feel like hugging Sophie too. If it wasn’t for her sharp eyes, Pete would still be lost and stuck in the tree. I hear a crunch of gravel and two voices. One deep, the other high-pitched.

  “Pete? Jared? Are you down there?”

  I peek up the steep slope. Mom is standing at the very top. Shading her forehead with her hand, she glances anxiously at the loose shale. But Dad is slithering down, part sliding, part running, coming toward us fast.

  Chapter 20—Found

  I’VE BEEN CONCENTRATING so hard on getting Pete down from the tree, I almost forgot about my parents.

  “Jared. Is that you?” Dad peers into the shadows.

  “Right here, Dad,” I answer. “We found Pete.”

  “Is he okay? Where is he?” Dad hops across the small stream now, coming closer. He glances from me
to Sophie and back again.

  Sophie ducks her head like she’s in trouble or something.

  “Pete, what in the world?” Dad talks fast, in between short breaths. “We’ve had the whole neighborhood looking for you. Your mom was just about to call the police.”

  “I’m…fine.” Pete says weakly. “I was up in a tree.”

  “How did you get way down here? What happened to your bike?” Dad glances at the new bike, lying broken at the bottom of the ravine. He turns his questioning gaze at me and then at Sophie, as if we might be able to explain.

  “I was riding up to the animal shelter,” says Pete. “To get the cat.”

  “What cat? You mean the one that got loose yesterday?” Dad looks furious. “Why were you coming all the way up here, Pete? You know you’re not allowed to go this far.”

  “I wanted to find my cat. I was on that curve up there.” Pete points to the top of the hill where Mom stands uncertainly. “A car came up behind me. Real close, and I got scared. I swerved my bike, and then I fell over the side. Like this.”

  Pete lies down, rolling around like a dog, getting leaves and gravel all over himself. “Then, when I was laying there on the ground, I heard the kitty.” Pete points up to the top of the tree. “Up there.”

  “He was way up at the top, Dad,” I say. “Petey climbed up after him. I don’t know how he made it up so far. He must have scrambled like a human spider.”

  Pete grins. “Like Spiderman,” he says. “Only I couldn’t reach the cat. He was too far. And then I got stuck on a branch, and I couldn’t get down.”

  “You should have come home as soon as you found him, Jared and told us.”

  “He was hanging on for dear life, Dad. I couldn’t leave him. He had a death grip on that tree. Besides he asked me not to leave him.”

  Dad glances up at the tree, and then his eyes move toward the rocks in the gully below. He still looks mad for some reason. You’d think he’d be glad that we got Petey down in one piece.