Change Places with Me(14)

“I heard the most fascinating story,” Ms. Brackman said, turning her attention to Rose. “There were these two dogs that were always fighting. One day, one of the dogs died. You’d think the other dog would be happy—but no. He went to the site where the dog was buried and dug him up.”

“That’s awful,” Rose said.

“I’m getting to the good part! It turned out the other dog was still alive! He was in a coma, or had fainted. Now you’d think the dogs would become best friends after this, right? Because one dog had saved the other’s life? Well, guess again. They went right back to hating each other.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I don’t think it’s true,” Stacey said then. “No one would bury a dog that had fainted.”

“Or was in a coma,” Ms. Brackman corrected her.

“Even so,” Stacey said. “When you hold the dog, it’s warm, you can feel it breathing. And, what, the dog was buried somewhere out in the open, not in a pet cemetery?”

“It’s a reliable story,” Ms. Brackman said, drawing herself up and standing. “It came from a highly reliable source. And I might watch my tone, young lady.” She walked to Stacey, leaned across the counter, and picked up an index card on Stacey’s desk. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“It’s Candy’s card, isn’t it? It’s got a red star on it. With the letters TC, also in red. Look at that, my name’s got TCO next to it.”

Stacey pulled the card away. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Ms. Brackman said, “or why go to the trouble of writing it? And it’s in red.”

Stacey was turning red herself.

Rose had never thought of herself as fast on her feet, but the words seemed to tumble out of her. “That red star means the animal is wonderful. Just this morning I heard Dr. Lola talking about Candy. Candy’s her favorite.”

Ms. Brackman beamed. “That’s so true. Candy’s everybody’s favorite! And the initials—?”

“TC means Terribly Cute.” Rose didn’t miss a beat. “TCO means Trustworthy, Caring Owner. That means we can count on you to give Candy the right dose of the right medication.”

“That’s certainly true too,” Ms. Brackman said.

Stacey looked gratefully at Rose.

Finally Dr. Lola was ready for Candy, who leaned back heavily and struggled, but Ms. Brackman pulled her along.

“I can’t believe she was nosy enough to read the card,” Stacey said. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to ask about it.”

“What do the letters really mean?”

“TC means Typical Cocker. They’re overbred and crazy. TCO is Typical Cocker Owner. Draw your own conclusions. The red star means bad dog, watch out. Maybe Candy’s a biter.”

“Candy—everybody’s favorite?”

“The very same.”

“What if somebody stole Ms. Brackman’s purse? The thief would find—”

“Chicken, broiled, no skin!” Stacey laughed.

Rose laughed too. Despite the age difference, Rose felt an instant connection here, a kindred spirit. Selena and Astrid would like her too; so would Kim. The five of them could do all kinds of fun things together. But what did Stacey like to do?

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Rose asked her.

“Well . . . this isn’t exactly the time or place.”

“Where were you born? How’d you get interested in working with animals? Do you like to go shopping? I’m trying to find a jean jacket, a very particular one. I went to Second Nature four times already, but they never have it.”

Stacey just shook her head.

“You can tell me things. I’m a really good listener, contrary to what a certain bio teacher might say. What do you think about when you wake up alone in the middle of the night?”

“What makes you think I wake up alone?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get personal. I used to wake up several times a night. Some therapist told me to count backward by threes, that it would make me sleepy, but I got so good at it, it woke me up even more. I could count backward by threes from any random number. Even now I can do it—five-forty-eight, five-forty-five, five-forty-two, five-thirty-nine, see? I went to so many therapists, you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Rose, this is . . . much too much.”

“How so? We’re friends!”

“We just met.”

“Technically, we met the other day, but it doesn’t matter. I’m having a Halloween party tonight. Please come! You don’t need a costume. I’m not wearing one. I’d really like to introduce you to my friends. So will you come?”

“What grade are you in, anyway?”

“Tenth.”

“Rose, I think I’m a little old for a high school party.”

“You never know—you might change your mind. Tell me your number—I’ll send you the address.” Rose opened her phone. “Don’t pay attention to the picture. I keep forgetting to get rid of it. Do you forget to do stuff you know you should do but you just don’t do it?”

“I can’t really have this conversation right now.”