Twelve Steps to Normal(33)

“I know it’s hard for you having them here, but their lives fell apart, too. They know they’re the ones responsible for their actions, but I want to believe in second chances. Not just for me, but for other people, too. And if I can offer them a second chance here, just temporarily, then I hope I’m helping in a small way. Does that make sense?”

I nod. I understand where he’s coming from, but he could have at least run his plan by me before I came home.

We sit in silence for a moment. He hands me my twenty dollars, and I take it from him.

My eyes find my twelve-steps list folded in the corner of my desk. I told myself I’d learn to forgive my dad, but it isn’t as easy as writing it on a scrap of paper.

The front door opens from downstairs. I hear a set of shoes enter through the front hallway followed by a loud… bark?

I glance over at my dad, eyebrows raised in question, but he looks as puzzled as I am. We jump up at the same time and rush down the stairs.

Nonnie’s standing by the front door. She’s holding a large grocery bag in one hand and in the other, a leash. A leash attached to a huge, black Labrador retriever.

“Oh, hello.” Her voice is intentionally sweet. The big dog laps at her hand, then thumps his tail on the ground in excitement. “Do we have room for one more?”





TWELVE


AS IT TURNS OUT, IT’S hard to say no to a kindhearted lady who is old enough to be your grandmother, so the dog gets to stay.

“His name is Wallis,” Nonnie told us as she scratched behind his ears. “He’s been at the Cedarville shelter for almost three years! Can you believe that? How could no one adopt this darling?”

I wouldn’t exactly use the word darling to describe Wallis. He is basically a small horse. His paws are nearly the size of my own hands and every time he pants, globs of drool drip on the floor.

When I was little, I used to beg Grams for a puppy. I swore on my favorite pajama bottoms that I’d take care of it—including cleaning up its poo.

But Grams always objected. “When you learn to make that bed of yours every mornin’, maybe I’ll believe you.”

She was right. I couldn’t even last one stinking week without forgetting, and she was always there to remind me.

“If you’re not responsible enough to make a bed, then how on earth are you going to take care of a livin’ creature?”

I screamed at her—told her I hated her—and slammed my bedroom door. Of course my dad made me apologize later. And I did, because I could never, ever hate Grams for long.

“When you’re older, I promise we’ll think about it,” she’d told me.

I stare at the slobbery beast in front of me. This is not what I’d had in mind when I wished for a puppy.

Nonnie and Saylor spend Sunday trying to teach him basic commands out in the backyard. Peach hangs outside with them and reads one of her romance novels in the hammock. She’s not wearing heels, but she is sporting a long magenta skirt paired with a cream-colored blouse. It’s very 1950s of her. I don’t know how she doesn’t suffocate from the heat.

I spend most of Sunday finishing my homework and texting Lin. She’s helping organize Earth Club’s first “Pick Up the Park” this Saturday at Winsor Lake. I was able to use my limited Photoshop skills to design flyers that we’re going to hang around school tomorrow morning.

Everyone gathered downstairs to watch a movie later in the evening. It sounded like a comedy judging by the amount of laughter coming from the living room. I knew I would be welcomed if I went downstairs to join them, but I didn’t. I still felt like a stranger in my own home.

On Monday, I get up extra early to get ready for school. It rained last night and clouds still hover thick in the air, which means it’s going to be a sticky, humid day. I pull on my favorite pale-yellow button-down paired with my floral purple skirt and slide into a simple pair of flats. Then I grab my book bag and keys before I step out of my room, grateful to have my own transportation to school.

I’m coming down the last few stairs when I hear the pounding of feet against the wooden floor. This is followed by a deep woof! Before I can turn back around, Wallis comes barreling toward me. I back up a step, but that doesn’t stop him. He jumps up and tries to lick my face, his muddy paws staining the bottom of my shirt and the entire front of my skirt.

“No, down!” I stumble under his weight, grabbing the banister for balance. “Bad dog!”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. His tongue flops out of his mouth as he continues to paw at me.

Saylor and Nonnie rush into the hall. Saylor grabs Wallis by his new collar, but the damage is done. Mud prints and clumps of dirt are smeared down the front of my carefully chosen outfit.

I. Am. Livid.

“Sorry!” Nonnie says. She has those giant curlers in her hair and her pink zebra-print bathrobe wrapped around her. “I was letting him out back—it’s really muddy out there—but he barreled inside before I could stop him. He’s a big people person.”

My blood boils. I stare down at my ruined shirt. Saylor is struggling to hold Wallis back, but it’s clear he’s ready to lunge at me again.

“Just get him out of here,” I snap.

“He doesn’t know any better,” Saylor mumbles as he turns back down the hall.