Dog Beach Unleashed (11 page)

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, which problem should we start with?”

Maybe I said too much. For once I'm not sure I want Bennett in on my problems, since now he's one of them. I hate to think of one of my best friends as a problem, but that's how it feels. I don't know how or when my feelings for him changed, but I don't think I can tell him—I don't want to hurt him. I had wanted to get his opinion on the Claire situation, but right now it all feels too complicated.

“Let's talk more tomorrow. I'm kinda tired.”

“Okay,” he says, sitting up straight and looking for his fallen flip-flop. “Sounds good. Just as long as you're not mad at me.”

“I could never be mad at you,” I say, and then I realize that that is a complete and total lie. “Actually, I could. But I'm not mad at you right now.”

He shakes his head. “You're confusing sometimes. You know that?”

“So are you,” I say. I think of what he said to Calvin.

I watch Bennett as he walks down the stone path that leads all the way from the side of my house to the street in front of it. His jeans are saggy, and one of his flip-flops keeps coming off, but he doesn't seem to mind. He just goes with the flow. Maybe that's what I should do instead of avoiding him. Maybe he'll have more good advice to offer me. Maybe he'll help me make sense of things.

The next morning, I take Marilyn Monroe with me to pick up Oscar, the boxer who went missing last summer. Now that that scary incident is over and ended happily, I love remembering that night, when after hours and hours of searching for Oscar, Bennett found him. Oscar has been mostly hanging with his dog-mom, Dawn, this summer, but she thinks he's getting bored and needs some socializing. I'm happy to have him back as part of the crew.

As soon as he sees me, Oscar jumps up and puts his paws on my chest as if he's trying to give me a hug.

“Oh, Oscie,” I say. “I've missed you! I can't believe it's mid-July and this is the first time I'm seeing you!”

He barks happily at that and jumps down. He goes to say hi to Marilyn Monroe, which is funny, because he's so much bigger than she is. He lies down next to her and puts his face next to hers, as if they're giving each other kisses on the cheek.

It feels good to see them together. Maybe that's what's been missing this summer—having Oscar around. It feels weird to place so much importance on one dog, but he is really fun, and he gets all the dogs playing together.

It's exactly like people. There's always one who adds so much to the group that, when they're away, something feels missing. I guess in my Seagate group, that's Bennett. When he left last summer to go on that boat trip with Calvin and his dad, everything seemed so boring. We didn't play a single game of Ping-Pong.

I'd like to say that
I'm
the one in the Seagate group who does that, but I'd be lying.

It's Bennett.

If Bennett and I were a couple, if we were more than friends, it might upset the balance of the whole group. Who likes a boyfriend-girlfriend duo in the middle of a group of friends?

It would change everything.

And then what if we broke up? What then? It would be hard on the two of us, but uncomfortable for the whole group, too. Nobody would know what to do.

I decide that Bennett and I need to stay friends. That's just the way it is.

Oscar, Marilyn Monroe, and I get to Dog
Beach, and Calvin is already there. He's by himself with Lester. I don't remember scheduling the day that way, but maybe there was a last-minute change. Or maybe this is Calvin's way of making an effort with Lester. He knows that the cocker spaniel needs the extra attention.

“Where's everyone else?” I ask, trying not to sound accusatory.

It feels empty here with only Calvin and a few dogs. Mason barely watches over Dog Beach these days; he's so busy with his Italian lessons.

“Claire's not feeling well,” he says. “And Bennett said he was getting the other dogs, since he had to drop Asher off at camp early today. I have no idea where Micayla is.”

“Oh.” I realize I have nothing else to add, but quickly scan
my brain for something to say. “I thought of another good booth idea. I still want to run the wedding booth, though.”

“Oh yeah?” He looks up at me.

“A fortune-teller booth!”

“Is there a Seagate Island fortune-teller?” he asks.

“Well, kind of. There's this woman, Callie, who works at Breakfast on the Boardwalk and reads tarot cards, and sometimes people stop in to consult her,” I explain. “I'm not sure if she's right or anything, but she has some loyal customers.”

“Yeah, a fortune-teller would be cool,” he says.

After he lets Lester off his leash, Calvin pulls two lounges over. “Here, take a load off,” he says.

I let Marilyn Monroe and Oscar free, and soon the three dogs are running into the ocean together like long-lost friends. It looks like a postcard, or maybe even an inspirational poster—a Yorkie, a boxer, and a cocker spaniel, all different sizes, colors, and personalities, frolicking in the beautiful sea together.

The poster would say something like
HAPPY TOGETHER
.

“Look at that,” I decide to tell Calvin. “Wouldn't that make a great poster?”

“Huh?” he asks, and then he catches himself. “Oh, I spaced out there for a minute.”

“I do that all the time,” I say.

“Good to know I'm not alone.”

“Look at the different dogs, in the sea together.” I point
in front of us. “Doesn't that look like a poster you'd see in a dentist's office?”

He laughs. “Explain?”

So I tell him more, until Lester runs over to us, sopping wet. His ears are dripping onto my feet, but I don't mind at all. I'm grateful for this sunny day. And if the dogs are happy, I'm happy, too.

“It's cool we're getting to hang out,” Calvin says. “I mean, we hang out all the time, but it's always in a big group and stuff.”

I tense up a little and pretend a mosquito bite on my knee is really, really itchy. “Yeah.”

“My sister said you're her best friend,” he tells me, pretty much out of the blue.

“Oh. Um, really?” I don't know why I'm so shocked. We are close. But I've never thought of Claire as my best friend, and now I feel guilty about it.

“Yeah. I heard her talking to my mom the other day,” he says. “You know how Claire is. She tries to act so tough and stuff, but the thing is, she's really not.”

I turn around to make sure no one's coming. “Yeah, I know that,” I say quietly. “None of us is ever all we appear to be.”

“Whoa. That's deep.” He laughs again.

“It's kind of true, though,” I say. “Think of it this way. In New York City, people install fake walls to divide one big room and make it into separate little rooms.”

“Uh-huh.” Calvin's looking at me as I talk, as if he's really listening.

“And it reminds me in this weird way of what people do with their feelings. We divide them up. Sometimes we show one person one part of us, and show another person another part of us,” I say. “People only see one little room, when in fact there's all this other hidden space around it.” As I'm talking, I wonder if I'm making any sense whatsoever. But it still feels good to say it. It's been in my head for so long, it's a relief to tell someone.

“I think you're right,” he says.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean, like, you guys don't know everything about me,” he explains. “I'm a different way around my friends at school. And I'm different around my dad than I am around my mom. That kind of thing.”

“So you get what I'm saying?” I ask.

“Totally.” He smiles.

I think that's the most important thing in a friend—to know that he or she understands you.

Right then, Micayla and Bennett arrive with the rest of the dogs, and in a way I'm sad to end our conversation.

“What's up?” Micayla asks when all the dogs have settled down and are enjoying their morning snack with the boys.

“Claire's sick,” I tell her. “Calvin told me.”

“Oh. Anything else?”

“
Nuh
-thing,” I say, sounding more defensive than I'd planned. But it seems as if Micayla knows there's something I'm not telling her.

“Sheesh, okay!” She laughs. “Guess you woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“No, no,” I say, defending myself. “I'm fine. I just don't have much else to share at the moment.” I stare off at the sea, happy to be alone with my thoughts. All I can think about is that conversation with Calvin.

“Remy, your head is in the clouds again today,” Micayla says. “I can tell. So here's something to zap you back to earth.”

“What?”

“You know how everyone keeps saying this is gonna be a bad hurricane season?”

I nod. Well, that was quick. She completely zapped me out of my happy thoughts.

“What if we have to evacuate?” she asks me.

“Come on. Don't think about that,” I plead. “There's always hurricane talk, and besides, we can't know in advance. We don't need to worry about it now.”

“Well, I do worry about it,” she says. “I have no idea where we'll go if we have to evacuate. It didn't really occur to me until yesterday, when I overheard my parents talking about it in a joking way while they were making dinner. We don't have our New Jersey house anymore. My grandma moved into an assisted-living place. We'll be homeless!”

“Mic, come on. They were joking. You said so yourself.” I try to rein her in. “Plus, your parents have a billion friends. Worse comes to worst, you'll move in with us in New York.”

“Come on. Really?” She glares.

“Yes, of course. You can sleep on my top bunk.”

She nods. “Okay, thanks. Good backup plan. But, seriously! I was just getting used to being a year-rounder.”

“I know.”

I guess that's something about life that's hard to understand. Just when you get used to something, it can change.

I wake up covered in sweat, my heart thumping.
I was dreaming that I was trapped underground on the subway between two stops for hours and hours. It's a recurring dream I have whenever I'm worried about something. And I hate it. Truthfully, I've only been stuck on the train a few times, and usually not for that long. But in my nightmare, we're stranded in the pitch-darkness, and people start screaming, and no one can get off the train.

Downstairs, my parents are drinking lattes from the new coffee place, Seagate Sips. They usually make their own coffee, but they love morning walks, and they can't resist supporting a local business.

“If we have to evacuate Seagate, the Walcotts are coming with us,” I declare, as though it's a law and there's absolutely no debating it.

“Um, well, evacuating is really a worst-case scenario if that low-pressure system making its way up from the south actually turns into a hurricane and hits us; no one has said anything about that yet,” Dad replies. “But we'd certainly help them in any way we could.” He finishes his latte. “I'm not sure they'd want to come back to Manhattan and live in such a small space with us, though.”

“There's no other choice!” I cry. “They have nowhere else to go. They sold their New Jersey house.” I go on and on about Micayla's grandma in assisted living and how they'll be homeless if they have to leave the island. “They'll have to go back to St. Lucia. And then I'll never see my best friend again.”

“Remy, you're getting way ahead of yourself,” Mom says in her please-calm-down tone. She seems to use this tone more and more lately.

“Yeah, but everyone keeps saying how it's gonna be a bad hurricane season,” I remind them.

With a sigh my mom says, “It will be okay. Just relax.”

If I had a dollar for every time someone told me to “just relax,” I'd be able to buy a new apartment for myself in Manhattan.