This one, though, comes to us courtesy of the phrase "a friend in need."
"Such an interesting question," El Brujo said, her grin so
huge, she practically did a Cheshire Cat and vanished behind it.
"Whom do you consider the cleverer species, August: dogs or
squirrels?"
Very aware of Serena clinging to my upper arm and Heather
sitting in Deena's lap, their ears perking in a way I found both
cute and menacing, I was forced to fall back into the last
refuge of the scoundrel: literal honesty. "I've never trained a
dog before," I told Deena.
And her grin, oh, I would've dared any number of
threatening squirrels to see that. "Well, here's your chance!"
She picked Heather up, the little dog's tail exploding like one
of those big fireworks on the Fourth of July, and held her so
their noses touched. "Would you like to be Gus's student,
Heather? Would you like to learn tricks like your friend
Serena?"
"Our names!" Serena scrambled up onto my shoulder again.
"Heather! Deena is talking about us together!"
Her tiny pink tongue flashing over and over against Deena's
nose, Heather was already saying, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"
But she added with further yips and wiggles and for all I know
even released scents--after six months of being the only human
on the planet who can understand it, I'm still not quite sure
how animal speech works--"She knows that you and I are to be
best friends forever!"
Lowering the squirming Heather back into her lap and
tickling her belly, Deena set those dark eyes on me. "Whaddaya
say, Gus?"
All I could manage to get out through my jagged throat was
the same phrase: "I've never trained a dog before."
"But if it works, Gus," Deena's father said from his chair
to my left, "you could maybe go into business." His tone of
voice made me look over, but the dagger-sharp edge of his smile
made me wish I hadn't.
Because even though I knew as absolute fact that he wasn't
my dad, wasn't the go-getter who made the news sometimes with
his buying and selling, who produced profits in ways and places
other people had never ever thought about before, and who
left considerations like law and etiquette and his own flesh-
and-blood for his hirelings to work out, even though I knew Mr.
Schwarber wasn't that guy, that edge in his smile, that honed
and glittering edge...
He was going on: "There's a lotta folks right here in the
neighborhood, I'll bet, who'd be happy to bring their dogs to
you for a tune-up. And it's something you like doing, isn't
it?"
"It'll be great!" Deena clapped her hands and bounced on
the sofa. "When can we start? What can I do to help?"
"No!" I shouted in animal speech, unable to say it to her
in a way she could understand. "I mean, how can I be anyone's
trainer?? I can't even control myself!"
Heather's ears dipped. "We just want to help you, Mr.
Augie. Please?"
I could smell it, too, pure and sweet like the scent of
freshly baked bread, the way Deena and her dad and her dog all
thought they were helping, thought I needed something to do. "I
don't--" I started to say out loud.
"Actually, August," El Brujo interrupted me quietly. "It's
not so much that the Schwarbers want to help you. It's
more that they'd really rather focus on something other than
their own problems for a change."
And in fact, all three of them were already drooping. "You
don't?" Deena asked, the disappointment in her voice cracking my
heart.
Which pretty much settled it: I held up a hand, took a
breath, concentrated on relaxing my throat. "I don't know where
to start. But--" The lovely flare of hope in her eyes made my
concentration falter, but I swallowed and kept going: "With all
of us together, maybe we can figure it out."
She clapped and bounced again, her happy little squeak
making Heather jump up and start bouncing, too. Which very
definitely settled it: anything I could do to make her do
that from now on, I would. "Can we start tomorrow??" Deena
looked at her father. "Should we wait till you get back from
work, Dad, or--?"
"Naw." He waved a hand. "You two get started, and you can
show me Heather jumping through a flaming hoop when I get home."
El Brujo actually giggled at that, something I don't think
I'd ever heard before. The Schwarbers lifted my chair back up
the step into the hallway, and I rolled through the kitchen
between them, Mr. Schwarber opening the garage doors, Deena
behind me asking, "You gonna be OK getting back to the house,
Gus?"
And as much as I wanted to have her walk me there, I said,
"I'll be fine. Tomorrow at one. OK?"
"OK!" She touched a hand to the shoulder Serena wasn't
riding, and I swear, the jolt of contact with her nearly shook
me out of my seat. "I'll even give Heather a bath first!"
Rolling past Mr. Schwarber, I waved back at them both, took
a right at the sidewalk, and started toward Chrysalis House, the
spring evening warmer than just the weather could account for.
El Brujo did the feline equivalent of clearing her throat.
"Perhaps we can order you a whip and a chair online somewhere."
It took some effort, but I didn't poke her in the nose.
"Actually, online's a good place to start: maybe someone's got
some dog training videos somewhere."
She blinked at me. "Perhaps it's escaped your notice,
August, that you can merely ask Heather to perform whatever
trick you wish, and she will endeavor till her final doggy
breath to accomplish said trick."
Serena scurried partway down my arm. "It's true. Heather
is a very good dog and will want to be helpful."
I shook my head. "It's like you said, El Brujo: this is
about helping Deena. And you heard her, right? The one thing
she absolutely does not need in her life right now is
anything that looks like magic. From now on, the two words for
everything we do are 'stable' and 'sensible.'"
"Really?" El Brujo licked a paw. "Alas, I fear none of us
qualify in either of those fields."
Which leads us on to 44.
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