see my dog. Name is Rex. Picked the name myself. Well, me an’ my brothers. Hey, lady.”
Rats. I stopped, hung my head and took a deep breath. This was the Eastern Shore. I’d better get used to seeing yellow Labs. Besides, the boy was jumping out of his skin to show off his dog.
“Rex?” I turned around and stared at my shoes and hoped this was as close as I had to get to satisfy my social obligation. “Great name for such a pretty dog. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy. C’mon and shake hands with Rex. I think he shakes hands.” Jimmy held out his hand and the dog’s paw filled it. “Look! He does know shake! C’mon, lady.”
I trudged over to the truck, looking everywhere but at the dog. The blacktop, the dirt, the brown-and-mud landscape beyond the building toward the tree line. “What else does Rex do?”
“Not sure.” He kissed the dog with a loud smack. “Don’t tell my dad I kissed the dog. ‘K? We just got him and I ain’t supposed to get attached, Dad says.”
“Sure won’t. You and Rex have a safe trip home. Bye.”
I made it three steps. “Hey, lady.”
I came to a parade rest. “Yes, Jimmy?” Maybe this would be quick and I wouldn’t have to turn around.
“Do me a favor, wouldja?”
“What’s that, Jimmy?”
“Would you throw this away for me? And these? I would myself, but my dad says I have to stay in the truck with Rex.”
“Absolutely,” I walked backward to the spot where I’d been standing.
“Hey, lady, why are you walking like that?
“So I can see where I’ve been.” I held out my hand. “What am I throwing away?”
“You’d better look ‘cause it’s in a jar and you might drop it and break the glass.”
Sigh.
“Here.” He held the jar with two hands, and balanced a plastic cup with a lid on top of it. “It’s okay. Everything’s dead. Mostly.”
Dead? Dead means used to be alive . “What are you talking about? What’s dead?” The dog whined and pranced, and poked me in the ear with its extraordinarily cold and abundantly wet nose.
“It’s just an old lizard and some dumb old worms it used to eat before it croaked. I was gonna use it as fishin’ bait, but dead stuff doesn’t work.” He leaned out over the side of the truck. “You okay, lady? You ain’t gonna hurl, are ya’?”
I lifted my shoulder and dried my dog-kissed ear on my T-shirt and took the jar. It was one sad-looking gecko. “What’s in the cup, again?”
“Mealworms.”
“Mind if I put them in my truck?”
Jimmy shook his blond head and scratched the dog’s blond head. “Nope. But why wouldja?”
“I collect dead things.”
“Cool.”
“Okay, then. See ya, Jimmy.” I opened my door and put the jar on the seat. I set the mealworms next to it.
Ed squinted and peeped through bloody folds of the handkerchief. “What dat?”
“A gecko,” I said. “See if it will eat a mealworm—there, in the cup. But it’s probably dead.”
“Why are you gibing be a dead gecko?”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Why do I have to beed a dead gecko?”
“It’s the least you can do.”
CHAPTER 23
When I walked around to the front of the building, I side-stepped an enormous man with flushed cheeks.
“’Scuse me.” He pulled the front door open, and fished a wallet out of his pants’ pocket.
I pulled up short. Costello. A quick survey of the parking lot, and I spotted the sedan behind the hotdog sign.
Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t just stand here. They’ll notice you.
Well, of course they’ll notice me. I’ll be the one smashing out their windshield with a tire iron.
Pull yourself together. Go find out if Doofus is in their car.
Before the windshield. Smart.
Go over there. Stop shaking and go over there.
I pulled off my ponytail scrunchie, slipped it on my wrist and shook my hair free. Avery might remember me, but I could hide half my face if I angled my head and kept back from his direct line of sight. I marched straight over before I
Rats. I stopped, hung my head and took a deep breath. This was the Eastern Shore. I’d better get used to seeing yellow Labs. Besides, the boy was jumping out of his skin to show off his dog.
“Rex?” I turned around and stared at my shoes and hoped this was as close as I had to get to satisfy my social obligation. “Great name for such a pretty dog. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy. C’mon and shake hands with Rex. I think he shakes hands.” Jimmy held out his hand and the dog’s paw filled it. “Look! He does know shake! C’mon, lady.”
I trudged over to the truck, looking everywhere but at the dog. The blacktop, the dirt, the brown-and-mud landscape beyond the building toward the tree line. “What else does Rex do?”
“Not sure.” He kissed the dog with a loud smack. “Don’t tell my dad I kissed the dog. ‘K? We just got him and I ain’t supposed to get attached, Dad says.”
“Sure won’t. You and Rex have a safe trip home. Bye.”
I made it three steps. “Hey, lady.”
I came to a parade rest. “Yes, Jimmy?” Maybe this would be quick and I wouldn’t have to turn around.
“Do me a favor, wouldja?”
“What’s that, Jimmy?”
“Would you throw this away for me? And these? I would myself, but my dad says I have to stay in the truck with Rex.”
“Absolutely,” I walked backward to the spot where I’d been standing.
“Hey, lady, why are you walking like that?
“So I can see where I’ve been.” I held out my hand. “What am I throwing away?”
“You’d better look ‘cause it’s in a jar and you might drop it and break the glass.”
Sigh.
“Here.” He held the jar with two hands, and balanced a plastic cup with a lid on top of it. “It’s okay. Everything’s dead. Mostly.”
Dead? Dead means used to be alive . “What are you talking about? What’s dead?” The dog whined and pranced, and poked me in the ear with its extraordinarily cold and abundantly wet nose.
“It’s just an old lizard and some dumb old worms it used to eat before it croaked. I was gonna use it as fishin’ bait, but dead stuff doesn’t work.” He leaned out over the side of the truck. “You okay, lady? You ain’t gonna hurl, are ya’?”
I lifted my shoulder and dried my dog-kissed ear on my T-shirt and took the jar. It was one sad-looking gecko. “What’s in the cup, again?”
“Mealworms.”
“Mind if I put them in my truck?”
Jimmy shook his blond head and scratched the dog’s blond head. “Nope. But why wouldja?”
“I collect dead things.”
“Cool.”
“Okay, then. See ya, Jimmy.” I opened my door and put the jar on the seat. I set the mealworms next to it.
Ed squinted and peeped through bloody folds of the handkerchief. “What dat?”
“A gecko,” I said. “See if it will eat a mealworm—there, in the cup. But it’s probably dead.”
“Why are you gibing be a dead gecko?”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“Why do I have to beed a dead gecko?”
“It’s the least you can do.”
CHAPTER 23
When I walked around to the front of the building, I side-stepped an enormous man with flushed cheeks.
“’Scuse me.” He pulled the front door open, and fished a wallet out of his pants’ pocket.
I pulled up short. Costello. A quick survey of the parking lot, and I spotted the sedan behind the hotdog sign.
Keep moving. Keep moving. Don’t just stand here. They’ll notice you.
Well, of course they’ll notice me. I’ll be the one smashing out their windshield with a tire iron.
Pull yourself together. Go find out if Doofus is in their car.
Before the windshield. Smart.
Go over there. Stop shaking and go over there.
I pulled off my ponytail scrunchie, slipped it on my wrist and shook my hair free. Avery might remember me, but I could hide half my face if I angled my head and kept back from his direct line of sight. I marched straight over before I
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