Strays Read online

  After the incident at the Central Branch Library, I’d decided that the University of Santa Cruz library was where I wanted to brainstorm ideas for my paper. The university handed out honorary library cards to SC High School students, so I was able to hitch my bike to the front of the 1 University bus that took me up the hill, past Talbot’s house, toward campus.

  The more time I spent up on the campus, the more I liked it—especially the science library. Unlike the regular library that everyone used, this one was filled with science buffs like me. In one corner, a couple nestled on a couch perusing a book on molecular science; at a round table, students discussed the effects of vanishing coral reefs and admonished the government’s lack of interception on the matter. The library was alive with ideas, and I desperately wanted to be a part of it all.

  But instead of a science book in my hand, I sat with the Carter book, hiding the cover of a girl shrieking from her tower. When I’d first seen the cover, I’d assumed the girl was calling out to be rescued. But now that I was on my second reading, I imagined the girl on the cover sounding a war cry, letting everyone within earshot know that it was time for her voice to be heard.

  I liked everything in the Carter book, but I didn’t know exactly what I was going to write about for my final paper. Perry had made it clear that we needed to have a specific argument, and I had to come up with it quickly because Perry wanted to see rough drafts before we turned in our final papers.

  I decided a trip to my bench would do me some good. I could clear my head and figure out what in the world I was going to write for my final paper.

  But once I got to my bench overlooking the ocean, I defaulted to list-making. One page was titled Things to Do before I Die, another was Types of Juice I’d Include in My Hypothetical Juice Store, and, finally, Top Ten All-Time Best Movie Kisses, which involved imagining me kissing Oak in each cinematic scenario.

  I was just writing down my number-one all-time kiss movie, Casablanca, when I heard someone say, “Iris? You’re on my bench!”

  It was Kevin, wearing nothing but swim trunks. In his right arm he held a surfboard and in his left a wetsuit.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “This is the place I come…to think.”

  “Really?” But this was my bench.

  “It’s kind of been my place since back in high school. Maybe even earlier.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other here before,” I said.

  “Guess we think at different times.”

  I laughed.

  “Mind if I have a seat?” he asked.

  “Sure, it’s your bench, too.”

  I moved over and made room for him. I got it now, what Talbot was going on and on about: Kevin cared. And I think that’s what Talbot was confusing with attraction.

  “You know, I was really disappointed with how everything went down at dog rehab,” he said.

  “Yeah—me, too.” It was the truth.

  Kevin slid his surfboard under the bench. “We were all in it together, and you kind of abandoned your dog.”

  “I didn’t mean to. I mean, sometimes I feel like I don’t even have a choice.”

  “Everyone always has a choice, Iris. You think you’re the only one who gets angry? You know why I get to work in this program? Estelle, the woman who runs it, wanted someone who understood where these kinds of kids were coming from.”

  “You mean kids like me,” I said.

  “Yeah, kids like you. Angry kids. Kids who break the rules and pretend to not care what others think about them. So she picked me to be in charge because I can completely understand what it is you’re going through.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” I said.

  “Look, my parents split when I was eleven years old. I hated both of them for it. Their fights were vicious. Dad used violence to solve his problems—I hated him for it, but I hated myself even more for doing the same thing to others. I stopped listening to my mom, stopped respecting any adult because I believed they were all full of it. I thought they only spoke in lies. I started getting into all sorts of trouble. Stealing, graffiti, drugs. You name it, I did it. But I crossed paths with a judge—a very sympathetic judge who had heard about this program called Ruff Rehabilitation.”

  “You went through the program?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “I didn’t just go through it. I passed with flying colors. I had something to focus on other than my own misery. I turned things around. I liked the dogs, and the dogs liked me, and they listened. Since you guys have come to the program, have I ever once turned my back on you or told you that you couldn’t do it?”

  “No. Of course not,” I said. Kevin had always been nothing but supportive.

  “Then why did you turn your back on us? On Roman? He needs you, Iris, more than you’ll ever understand.”

  The thought that a three-legged mutt needed me was almost laughable.

  “I heard possible whispers that maybe you’d like Roman back?” said Kevin. Oak must have told him how I had been feeling.

  “I think so,” I said, sheepishly.

  “You think so? Or you know so? Because you have to know so if you’re gonna get him back.” Kevin meant serious business.

  “I think I know so,” I said, still not completely sure that this was what I should be doing.

  “Okay, then!” said Kevin. “I talked to Estelle last night. She made it very clear that I only get one free pass with her, but she says she’ll break protocol and let you work with Roman. But you have to really be with the program, Iris. You have to trust the program.”

  There wasn’t one person on earth that I did trust, and now Kevin was trying to convince me to trust an entire program.

  “So, for the last time, are you in? I wouldn’t be so insistent if I didn’t believe in you so much, Iris. And Roman believes in you, too,” said Kevin, picking up his surfboard.

  “Can he talk now?” I asked.

  “You’d be surprised at how much a dog can say without ever talking.”

  Here was this amazingly compassionate guy begging me to work with Roman again because he thought I could do it. How could I say no?

  “I’ll do it. But I can’t promise I’ll like it,” I said.

  “There’s still hope, Iris. There’s still hope.” He put his hand out to mine, and I shook it. “See you on Monday? Don’t be late.” He picked up his wetsuit and started walking down the trail.

  *

  Excitement replaced fear when Roman bounded toward me. His tail was wagging so enthusiastically against my bare legs that it felt like I was being whipped. He then proceeded to lick my entire face, and for the first time, I let him, with pleasure. For every lick, I reciprocated with a vigorous scratch behind his ears.

  “Aw! He missed you!” said Talbot, watching us.

  I knew I had made the right choice.

  Oak pretty much avoided me during dog training. Would we ever talk again? I was playing a weird game of chicken with him. I didn’t want to be the first to relent and speak. So I waited and waited, hoping to distract myself by chatting with Talbot.

  “Girls, less talking, more walking!” Kevin shouted at us as we walked with our dogs in a circle, keeping the animals in a heel position to the left of our bodies. The tips of their noses had to stay behind our bodies at all times in order to ensure that the dogs knew who was boss.

  “Sit and stay!” shouted Kevin. We were getting accustomed to these commands, so much so that it felt like we had all learned a different language. We each had our dogs sit in a row, leaving at least five feet between dogs and ten for Tinkerbelle, who was usually completely unfocused.

  “Sit,” I said. Roman went straight down.

  “Good boy,” I praised.

  The others also gave the “sit” command, and down their dogs went. It was a sight to see these misfit dogs obeying our commands perfectly.

  “They’re all totally gonna find new homes!” said Talbot.

  “I
hope so,” said Kevin.

  “Stay,” we said to our dogs, putting our hands out like we were making a stop sign. Then we slowly stepped backwards. When I felt like he was concentrating completely, I let go of Roman’s leash. Roman didn’t take his eyes off me. In my periphery I could see bicyclists going for an afternoon cycle along the beach. Birds were pecking at the ground, but Roman continued to zero in on me. Then a boy and his dad emerged with a bright red kite in tow. Roman started to lose his concentration.

  “Stay!” I repeated sternly. He looked back at me, then toward the boy. I could see his internal struggle: listen or rebel.

  Roman eyed the kite as the boy prepared it for takeoff.

  “Stay!” I repeated sternly. Again Roman looked back at me, then back at the boy.

  The dad ran with the kite and launched it into the air, where it floated on the wind currents like a seagull. But the duo was coming too close to us. Roman looked back at the kite. This was a total distraction for a dog like him. I knew that what he saw was an unidentified, jerkily moving object, the perfect thing to spook a sensitive dog like Roman, just like when my hand came down behind him that first week of dog training and I thought he was going to bite it off. I decided it was best to go back to where Roman was sitting and grab the leash so I could regain control.

  Kevin nodded as though he were reading my mind as I made my way toward Roman, readying myself to grab the leash.

  But then the kite erratically swooped over our heads. Every dog’s head turned, following the kite, but Roman took off after it, ready to protect us all from the hovering beast. He barked and gnarled his way over to the kite, which finally landed at the base of a blooming purple jacaranda tree, right next to where the boy was standing.

  “Sebastian!” yelled his dad, running full throttle over to the boy. I raced toward Roman. We were both running after our babies.

  Sebastian’s dad got there first, scooped up his son, and then began kicking Roman away.

  “Don’t do that!” I yelled. “He’ll snap!” I knew that a foot flying toward Roman would be the one thing to trigger his aggressive past. Roman began growling and getting into an attack stance. Kevin was suddenly at my side, grabbing hold of the trailing leash.

  “I’m so sorry about that, sir,” said Kevin to the dad.

  “It wasn’t his fault!” I defended Roman. “He was protecting me from the kite.”

  “That dog tried to attack us,” Sebastian’s dad said.

  “Why would you bring your kid out to play in the exact same spot where a group of dogs are being trained?” I asked, furious that Roman was even put in this situation. “You have the whole park!”

  Kevin placed his hand on my shoulder. “Iris, I’m gonna ask that you go back and join the group now.”

  I had no choice but to listen. As I walked away, I heard the dad say, “Just so you know, I’m a lawyer. If something isn’t done about that dog, get ready to see a lawsuit.”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. It all seemed so unfair. The waters tossed and churned inside. My anger swelled, and I could feel myself trying to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there. I thought about what my therapist had said: Acknowledge it. I started pacing around the trees. Weaving in and out of the dogs and their trainers. I must have looked like a nutcase. But in my head, I had to walk it off or else I would do something terrible.

  Oak approached me. “Are you okay?”

  Was he trying to save me again?

  “I’m just checking in,” he said, as though he knew exactly what I had been thinking.

  At least he was talking to me. It meant he still cared.

  Normally I would have said, “I’m fine.” I would have sucked it all in. But now, I tried a new approach. “No, I’m not. I’m super pissed off. I need some space.”

  He didn’t look hurt. He didn’t look at me like I was crazy. Instead, he listened to my words and nodded as he went back to the group.

  And then, as quickly as the anger had shot through me, the physical reaction started draining, like a water balloon with a leak, until I was left standing there, the same as before—still upset, but not out of control.

  Kevin and the boy’s father were done talking now, and Kevin was leading Roman back to his van.

  “Where are you taking him?” I asked. I had a right to know where my dog was going.

  “That boy’s dad felt really threatened, and I don’t blame him,” said Kevin.

  “But Roman wasn’t going after him,” I said.

  Kevin looked so serious. “That’s not how he saw it. If we get enough complaints, it will shut down the program. And what would that do to help these dogs?”

  “So where is he going?” I asked again, desperately needing an answer.

  “He needs some time to cool off. We can’t work with a dog that has a complaint against him, and I guarantee you that man will file a complaint as soon as he gets home. Roman is in good hands, Iris. Don’t worry.”

  That was an impossible request.

  It was as though the minute I resolved to be there for Roman, he was taken away from me.

  Before I knew it, Kevin had ushered Roman into the van. I didn’t even get to say good-bye. I had gone from anger to sorrow in a matter of minutes.

  This time, when Talbot came over to comfort me, I let her put her arms around me and hold me while I closed my eyes and let the sadness envelop me.

  *

  At home I brought in a pile of mail consisting solely of bills. Many were in red envelopes. Red—the color of the kite that rook Roman away. The color of anger. It was never a good color. I opened the water and power and gas bills, all of which were on their final notice before shutoff. Then I opened the cable bill and was reminded of what I already knew—the cable had been shut off. The problem was way bigger than me not being able to watch my animal shows. Our lives were being shut down. How could Dad have let this happen?

  There must have been some sort of mistake. Even though Dad often got distracted by work, he never was one to be late on any sort of payment. He always used to joke with my mom that he even had a perfect library account—not one late fee.

  I called him at work and, when prompted, hit his office extension. I heard a strange beep before the system hung up on me. I tried again. The same thing happened. I tried calling him on his cell, but it went straight to voice mail. After texting twice, I gave up, placed the envelopes in the middle of the breakfast table so he’d be sure and see them as soon as he got home, and continued working on my final paper.

  I had decided to stick with the theme of missing mothers. I had a theory that they had to die in order for their daughters to find their own identity.

  The thing was—this theory didn’t apply to my situation, just fairy tales. I was without my mother and felt more lost than ever. I began feverishly brainstorming ideas, pausing only when the barking dog next door distracted me and my thoughts would momentarily turn to Roman.

  When would I see him again? Did he miss me? I felt like I was one of the only people in the world who understood him. How was I supposed to focus on writing this paper when all I could think about was Roman?

  Then it all clicked. Missing mothers were all the rage in fairy tales. I wanted to write about something new. I decided to focus my attention on the one character in the Angela Carter book that I could completely relate to—Wolf-Alice.

  thirteen

  Regardless of Kevin’s assurance that Roman was in good hands, we all soon discovered that the unthinkable had occurred.

  “Guys, we have something serious to discuss,” said Kevin when I asked him how Roman was doing.

  “This isn’t the first complaint we’ve had about Roman. Over the years, he’s had a few—not tons, but enough to red-flag him. He’s been on probation with our organization, and I’m afraid this last complaint has put us in a very precarious position.”

  “Cut to the chase, man!” said Randy. “Where is he?”

  Kevin continued. “We can’t have a dog
with that many strikes against him. We just can’t.”

  “Where is he, Kevin?” I said. “We need to know the truth!”

  Kevin was silent. Whatever he was about to tell us was grave. “He’s at the pound.”

  I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me.

  “How could you let this happen?” Oak asked.

  Kevin explained the bureaucracy of the system over and over again, as if the practicality of the rules and regulations was supposed to override the emotions of seeing Roman taken away without so much as a good-bye. I thought Kevin was supposed to be not only my advocate, but also the dogs’. He had let me down.

  “It’s not his fault,” said Talbot, defending Kevin. But I didn’t agree with her.

  I tried to think realistically. “What can we do?” I wasn’t going to let my anger distract me from trying to remedy the situation.

  “I’ve been up all night trying to think of creative solutions. I just can’t wrap my head around this one, guys. I’m so sorry,” said Kevin with sadness in his voice.

  *

  After class I urged the others to stay behind and discuss Roman’s situation. We were a hodgepodge of delinquent talent, for sure—but what we all had in common was our ability to rebel and think outside the box. This had to work in our favor, if we could channel it correctly.

  “We have to see him,” I told the group.

  “I have a date, Iris,” said Randy.

  “And I have to babysit my cousin. Sorry,” said Shelley.

  “I get it. It’s fine,” I said. “What about you two?” I asked Oak and Talbot. I knew they didn’t completely get along with one another and Oak and I were still on the outs, but I’d hoped they could put aside their differences for Roman’s sake.

  “I’m in,” said Talbot.

  “Yeah, me too,” said Oak.

  The three of us piled into Oak’s truck and headed toward the pound.

  Operation Dog Rescue was in full effect.

  *

  “He’s got to be in here somewhere,” Oak said.