man from the desk. We cut through a back room and out a heavy door to a large covered patio lined on both sides with kennels made of chain link fencing. Only about half of the kennels were occupied, but the insane barking that our appearance set off was deafening.
Tyler’s hands pressed over his ears and his eyes squeezed tight with terror. I placed my arm protectively around his shoulders and peeled back a few of his fingers so I could say, “It’s okay. They’re just happy to see you. The doggies are saying hi.”
My brother’s eyes opened to guarded slits, but he still shook. The shelter guy noticed Tyler’s reaction and led us out of the kennels to a field where there were several fenced in squares of grassy yard for dogs to run around. It was quieter and less intimidating.
While Mom talked to the man about the kind of dog we were looking for, I approached the fence and looked in. A girl stood throwing a tennis ball over and over for a horse-like Great Dane to fetch. My first thought was how we could use someone with her arm on my baseball team. Her movements were graceful and confident. As she ran, fat locks of her sandy brown hair slipped the band of her ponytail, causing her to yank the band off and wind it around her wrist. I could only see her profile, but when she opened her mouth to laugh at the dog’s clumsy chase, something tightened in my gut.
“Cady,” Mark called.
She tossed the ball one last time and ran up to a gate in the fence where she ducked through and walked over to us.
“Hey, Mark,” she said.
“Cady is one of our most dedicated volunteers,” Mark explained to Mom. “I’m the business manager for the shelter, and my wife is the veterinarian. Kristy isn’t in today, but Cady works closely with the animals. She can help find the right pet for your son.”
Mark recapped what kind of dog we were looking for. When he mentioned my brother and his issues, I braced for the girl’s reaction. I was used to people becoming instantly uncomfortable in Ty’s presence. I hate to say it, but Tyler’s a weird kid. I mean, you could tell by looking at him he wasn’t normal. His head was a little too big for his body. His limbs moved in constant sharp, twitchy movements, lacking fluidity. He had dark circles beneath his eyes which made him appear middle aged, rather than eight years old. Cady must have seen all of this, but her open, friendly expression didn’t flinch when she turned to my brother. Instead, she approached him as if he were a timid animal, careful not to come too far into his personal space. She crouched down and spoke to him directly.
“Hi, Tyler. I’m Cady. I spend a lot of time with these dogs. Would you like me to bring one over for you to meet?”
My mouth dropped open. People, especially other kids, did not automatically talk to my brother. Usually, they’d address questions to my mom or me and expect us to interpret for them. Most wouldn’t even make eye contact with Ty until they had time to get used to him.
Tyler gave a brief nod, which made Cady’s pretty face light up.
“Good. I need to ask you a few questions first. How do you feel about big dogs?”
He grimaced and shook his head.
The girl chuckled. “Okay, no big dogs. Can you show me with your hands about the size of dog you’d like?”
Ty looked to me for help. I held my hand a few feet off the ground. “This tall?” I asked.
My brother’s brow furrowed. Cady touched my wrist with one warm fingertip, sending a shiver up my arm. My gaze flicked to meet her soft brown eyes. Her lips curled up at me before pulling my hand lower. I had to stoop, and I was close enough to smell the fruity scent of her hair. It made my head dizzy.
“How about this tall?” Cady asked. She still held my wrist in her delicate grip in a way that I was sure she could feel my racing pulse. My other hand itched to touch her.
“No?” She watched my brother, completely oblivious to me leaning in a little closer to her than necessary. “How about this?” She lowered my hand a few more inches.
Why won’t she look at me again?
Tyler tapped the top of my hand, causing Cady to draw it lower. We were both crouching, my hand hovering about a foot off the grass. Tyler gave a sharp nod and stepped back.
Cady let go of my wrist and stood up. “Okay. Be right back.”
I dumbly watched her jog off, not realizing until Tyler tugged my arm that my mouth was hanging open. I stood slowly and tried to shake off the fuzzy feeling in my head.
Cady returned a moment later carrying a floppy eared dog nestled in her arms. She took a seat on the grass in front of Tyler, holding the dog in her lap.
“This is Snowflake,’ she said, threading her fingers through the dog’s long curly hair. “She’s a three-year-old poodle mix who was brought in when her owner passed away. Very gentle. Do you want to pet her?”
My brother’s expression was skeptical, and he made no move to approach. To encourage him--and get closer to Cady--I sat in the grass and ran my hand down the dog’s back.
“See, Ty,” I said. “She doesn’t bite. Check her out.”
Tyler shook his head no and took a half step back.
Cady gave a sad little smile. “Okay, so no to Snowflake. Come on, girl.” She scooped the dog up in her arms and set off to get another.
After rejecting four perfectly good dogs, Cady gestured that she’d be right back and ran into the building. She emerged a minute later carrying a small bundle in her arms. She plopped down on the grass in front of us cradling a small yellow cat.
“I know you wanted a dog, Tyler, but I was thinking Chloe might be more what you’re looking for.”
I glanced over to where my mother stood with her arms crossed next to Mark. Jerry, my step-father, wouldn’t like us coming home with a cat. He was one of those macho douche bags who believed in boys playing manly games like football and GI Joe. He’d see a cat as too girly of a pet, and by the look on her face, Mom knew it, too. But Tyler surprised us all when he stepped forward, knelt on the grass and put his white-knuckled fist out for the kitty to sniff.
“See, she likes you,” Cady said. “You can pet her if you want.”
Ty’s lips tightened into a line, but he ran his index finger down her back in one long stroke. When the cat didn’t react, he did it again with two fingers. Within minutes, my brother was holding the purring cat in his lap and making grunting noises at it.
Mom shook her head in amazement. “Cady, you’re a genius. I’ve never seen him take to anyone like that cat. What do you think, Cane? How do you think Jerry will like it?”
“It shouldn’t matter what he thinks. This is about Tyler.”
Mom contemplated it a moment before turning to Mark. “Okay,” she sighed. “I think we have a winner.”
Back in the office, Mom worked on the adoption paperwork while Cady instructed Ty on the best ways to hold the cat and brush its long hair. I stood transfixed on her. Not only was she pretty, but she treated my brother in a way I’d never seen anyone outside of our family treat him. Her manner exuded kindness, her eyes betrayed intelligence and for once, the girl completely ignored me.
“Ouch!” Lony exclaims as she stumbles for the millionth time. Still, I refuse to let her cling to me for support. For one, it’s too damn humid out. For two, she’s the one who wanted to go tromping through the woods wearing platform sandals.
“Cane, wait,” she whines. I stop and wait for her again. Cady and the others are so far ahead of us now all I can see is the distant yellow of their flashlight.
“Do you want to turn around and go back?” I offer. “I don’t mind.”
Lony’s mouth tightens. “In a hurry to get back to that slut?” she mutters just barely loud enough for me to hear.
“What? Who are you calling a slut?”
“Huh? No one!” She says it like she can’t believe I’d accuse her of calling people names. “But I mean seriously, who just does that? Hangs all over someone else’s boyfriend? And don’t tell me she wasn’t trying to get you to look down her shirt because I watched her do it.”
My muscles bunch up wi
th tension and a dull ache throbs in my temple. And here we go, plunging head-first into another argument. My instincts are to do what I always do...shut down and let Lony bitch away. But tonight is different. There’s something in the warm air, an energy from the woods around us that makes me want to fight back. Fight back and be done with it. Done with her insecure, shallow, the-whole-world-must-revolve-around-me bullshit.
“Lony.” Her name comes out sharper than I intend. I stop walking and face her. Her kohl-lined eyes widen in surprise.
I take a deep breath to try to calm myself. It isn’t working. “Look, lay off of Carly. She’s a nice girl and completely not interested in me.”
“But I saw--”
“You saw what you wanted to see. What’s this really about? Attention? Jealousy? Whatever it is, it has to stop. I’m tired of it.”
Lony’s speechlessness lasts only one beautiful moment before her eyes narrow and her temper explodes.
“How dare you turn this on me, Cane.” She spits my name like a swear word. “I did not imagine you flirting with that girl. Just like I didn’t imagine you with Bree Halston in the lunch room yesterday. Or with Kayla Edwards at the movie theater last week. You have no respect for my feelings as your girlfriend--”
“No respect for you? Jesus, Lon! All I do anymore is worry about how I’m going to offend you next. I’m not going to apologize for talking to girls. They’re my friends, our friends. I’ve known Bree since grade school. And you