Alpha Dog (24 page)

“I don’t know,” I said slowly.

“Aw, come on,” he said. “Is it Trina? Because she is totally yesterday. We aren’t even friends. And I promise, I
swear,
I won’t ever mess around again.”

I felt a slight charge. Once again, it was just what I wanted and needed to hear. I had my rep back. And now I could have my boyfriend back. This could be all over with.

But still I couldn’t quite get into the moment. “Please, Katie?” Chuck dipped toward me, his mouth curled in his trademark, sultry grin.

It was his secret weapon. That look and his husky voice. They had never, ever failed to work on me.

Until now. Looking at him, I felt stiff and embarrassed and even a little disgusted with myself—like when you hear a song on the radio that you used to be crazy about and realize it’s kind of cheesy and lame.

Chuck had lost all his luster. He had no power over me anymore. I no longer loved or hated him.

“Chuck,” I said, scooting closer. I wanted to let him down easy. After all, in a completely warped way, I was sort of grateful to him for breaking up with me. If he hadn’t let me go, I might not have realized that I didn’t really want him. Or I would have realized it too late.

But Chuck misinterpreted my forward movement. He reached out with his arms and started pulling me toward him, his face dipping toward mine in pre-make-out formation.

I was just about to pull away when Seamus came out of nowhere. He dove between us, barking at Chuck while pushing back against me, trying to wedge us apart with his little body.

“Stupid dog!” Chuck shouted, pushing Seamus with his right hand and slamming him onto his side.

Something popped inside me—like a grenade being unpinned—and everything went hot and loud.

“Don’t you dare hurt him!” I screamed, picking up Seamus and holding him against my chest.

“I—I’m sorry.” Chuck’s eyes were as wide as compact discs, and it occurred to me that he’d never seen me really mad before. “I thought he was going to bite me.”

“If you touch my dog again I’ll bite you myself!” I raged.

“Okay, okay. I’m really sorry,” he said again. He ducked his head and smiled sheepishly, trying to turn on the charm again.

But I was
waaaaay
past letting that work. “I can’t believe you,” I said angrily. “I can’t believe you would come down here and act like everything’s all better, just because you say so! After what you did!”

I must have been making a pretty sizable racket because people all around us were craning their heads and staring. Soon Christine, Robot, Lyle and Kinky ran over.

“What’s going on?” Christine asked, breathless from running.

“He—he pushed—” My anger was finally starting to subside, leaving me shaky and stammering.

“Did you hurt her?” Robot asked, getting right up in his face.

“Aw, dude. That’s uncool,” Lyle said in a menacing voice, stepping up beside Robot.

Kinky made fists and lined up beside his band-mates.

“No way!” Chuck shouted, staring at each of them. “I’d never hurt her. I just sort of pushed her dog!”

“Aw, dude. That’s uncool,” Lyle said again.

“You lousy liar!” Christine said, shoving her way through the line. “What do you mean you’d never hurt her? What do you call that asshole stunt you pulled on her birthday?”

Chuck opened his mouth as if to protest, then quickly shut it and stared down at his Nikes.

“Know what, lad?” Robot laid a heavy hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “I think you need to find a new ride home.”

Chuck stared into each of their set faces before slumping in defeat. He then turned and fixed me with an expression both hurt and wrathful. I met his eyes full on, still clutching Seamus against me and stroking his shaggy backside. Eventually Chuck broke off his gaze and walked away.

I watched as he slowly ambled off toward the parking lot. Most of his swagger was gone, and he looked kind of reedy and slight. Once again I was struck by the nothing I felt for him. Just a little pity, some residual, stinging anger, and a tiny pocket of warmth.

Chuck was leaving the park, but I knew he was also leaving my life. And that was okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

13

“H
e’s not coming, is he?”

“You never know,” Christine said as she tied back her raven tresses with a red scarf.

We were stretched out on the blanket with Seamus, listening to a pretty blonde play guitar and sing densely poetic songs in a birdlike voice. The guys were standing nearby, trying to get a better view.

After we chased off Chuck, I was in a whole new mental state. I felt lighter somehow. Unshackled. And with it came a new clarity of thought.

Unfortunately, the main thing I was able to deduce was that Matt was still not there and probably wouldn’t show at all.

“It’s not that late yet,” Christine went on.

“Yeah, right,” I mumbled. It was almost dusk. The sun was dipping behind the trees, and the sky had taken on a faint lilac hue.

Yep. He wasn’t coming. Finding me tongue-tied with Chuck probably reeked something awful. And it was too much to ask that he would give me another chance. The guy had already forgiven countless temper tantrums and freak-outs; I couldn’t expect him to let anything else slide.

And then, just as the blond girl finished her set and was bowing to the crowd, I noticed someone pushing through the audience. Sleepy eyes . . . a wide, curvy mouth . . . wavy forelock tumbling across the brow—It was him!

I jumped to my feet. “Oh my God, Christine! He’s right over there!” I cried, keeping my eyes on him. Now that blondie was leaving the stage, people were scurrying everywhere, and I was afraid I might lose him in the crowd.

“Don’t just stand there! Go!” she said, giving me a little push on my leg.

“But Seamus—”

“I’ll watch him. Just go!”

“Thanks!” I bent over Seamus and gave him a little pat on the head. “Stay!” I ordered. “Be good!” Then I took off into the throng.

I veered through the tide of strolling, chatting people, keeping my eye on the top of Matt’s head. Eventually the masses parted enough to provide a full view.

“Matt! Over here!” I shouted, waving my arms.

He halted and turned slowly in place, glancing at the faces passing by. Finally he saw me. “Hey!” he said, his lips parting in a wide, moon-slice grin.

We walked toward each other, meeting in the middle.

“I’m so glad you came,” I said. I grabbed his arm and gave it a tiny squeeze.

His smile cocked sideways and he shook his head. “Man, the traffic was
horrible.
And when I got here, I couldn’t find a place to park.” He put his hand on my shoulder and slid it down my bare arm. “Sorry I’m late.”

“That’s okay,” I murmured, suddenly feeling short of breath.

“So, where’re the others?” he asked. His eyes darted around, scanning the field behind me.

“Over here. I’ll show you.” I grabbed his elbow and pulled him toward our blanket, trying not to skip with glee.

Suddenly a series of loud pops sounded nearby, startling me. I looked past Christine and saw Robot and the guys standing a few feet away, setting off firecrackers. A few more loud bangs went off, and the next thing I knew, Christine was yelling and waving her arms. Following her gaze, I could see Seamus racing away, with the leash trailing behind him.

“Seamus!” I hollered.

I tried to run after him, but a big group of people passed in front of me. I skirted sideways and finally got around them, heading for the spot where I’d seen him last, but he wasn’t there.

“Seamus?” I mumbled, my heart battering against my ribs. I looked left and right and then turned in a slow circle. I couldn’t see him anywhere.

Seamus was gone.

Everyone was talking at once—everyone except me.

“Oh my God, Katie. I’m so sorry. The stupid guys set off those firecrackers and he just . . . freaked!”

“Which way did he go?”

“You morons! What the hell were you doing setting those off?”

“It’s a bleeding festival! A celebration! You were supposed to be watching the little bugger!”

“I didn’t even see what happened. Did you?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Katie, are you okay?” Matt was peering at me closely, but his voice sounded far away. All I could think was
He’s gone.
Seamus had disappeared. Somehow, it didn’t feel real.

But it was. And there we were, standing around our blanket while Seamus was out in the crowd, lost and freaked. We had to do something, and fast.

“Guys, this isn’t helping,” I said.

Only Matt heard me. The others were still shouting and pointing in several different directions.

“Listen,” I tried again.

Still no response.

“Stop!”
I yelled.

Everyone finally stopped talking and looked at me.

“Sit!”

Lyle plunked down on the blanket. The rest of them looked confused.

“This place is huge and crowded, and it’s starting to get dark. We’ve got to split up and look for Seamus now!”

Everyone agreed. Robot and Christine took off to search the field where the portable toilets were lined up. Lyle and Kinky left to search the area between the stage and concession stands. And Matt and I headed right down the middle, trying to follow the path I’d seen Seamus take into the crowd.

“It’s going to be okay,” Matt said. “He’s wearing his leash, so he can’t go very fast.”

Ha!
I thought, remembering those early days in the park. Seamus could be anywhere at this point.

We moved through the crowd, scanning the ground in front of us for anything dark and furry. “Seamus!” I kept calling. “Seaaaaaamus!”

People were looking at us strangely, and I found myself getting frustrated and angry with the whole crowd. There were just so many of them. And they were all sauntering lazily past us, chatting and smiling as if everything was so great. I wanted to take a giant broom and sweep them all into a big gummy pile of flesh and sunblock. Then I could search the grounds for my dog without anyone in my way.

I was on the verge of losing it. As I stooped and scanned and called Seamus’s name, I felt as if I were skating the frozen surface of a raging river. Each moment that passed with no Seamus created a new crack in the protective ice layer.

We reached the edge of the grassy field and stopped. Directly in front of us was a wide gravel trail, and the parking lot lay just beyond that. To the right was the back of the concession stands, and to the left lay thick oak woodlands and a carpet of high wild grass.

“What do you think?” Matt asked, looking back the way we had come. “Should we head back to the blanket in case he returned? Maybe check with the others?”

“I don’t know,” I said croakily. Panic was rising inside me now. I could feel myself slipping into the icy rapids. “What if we don’t find him? What if he headed into the woods? We’d never find him in there. Or what if someone took him?”

“Hey.” Matt wrapped an arm around me. “It’s all right. We’ll find him. Hell, Seamus is so smart, he might find us.”

“I hope so.”

Just then we heard shouting out by the parking lot. A car horn sounded and someone yelled, “Stupid dog!”

Matt and I exchanged urgent looks and took off running toward the area. The parking lot was covered with limestone gravel that sent up flumes of chalky white dust any time a car drove over it. We followed the trail of powdery vapor down an aisle to the far edge of the lot. And there, pacing up and down the grassy edge of the lot, was Seamus, looking lost and confused and very, very small.

“Seamus!” I cried out, relief spilling through me.

He saw me and smiled a doggie smile, his pink tongue poking out between his open jaws.

“No, wait!” Matt shouted.

But it was too late. One second I could see Seamus scampering our way; the next second, a blue Volkswagen backed out of its space, blocking my view. I heard a horrible
thunk,
followed by a plaintive yelp and the squeak of brakes. Then everything went quiet. There was just a faint
whooshing
sound as the cloud of dust settled back down to earth.

I screamed and ran down the row of cars, Matt following close behind me. As soon as I reached the back end of the Volkswagen, I skidded to a stop and dropped to my knees.

Seamus—my buddy, my dog, my best friend ever— was lying motionless on the ground.

It’s a little hard to remember what happened right after Seamus was hit. The memories have all the vague, soft-focus qualities of a bad dream. I can only conjure up a jumble of sensations—my wails, the stares of curious onlookers, the frantic apologies from the guy driving the Volkswagen. The one thing I can picture clearly is Seamus lying limp and twisted on his side, his fur ashen gray from the layer of dust.

After that, I faintly recall Matt helping me pick up Seamus and leading us to his car. On the way he spied Kinky’s frizzy head over the crowd and shouted something to him. I was crying so hard that I didn’t hear. Soon after, we were on the road. It seemed to last forever. I held Seamus gently the whole way, making sure he was still breathing. He was still alive when we arrived at the twenty-four-hour animal hospital. Once there, a tall, pretty vet whose name tag read Dr. Skyler rushed over and carefully took Seamus out of my arms.

When I tried to follow them in to the examining room, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “You need to wait out here. I’ll come speak to you as soon as we know anything.” Then she disappeared behind the doors with Seamus and her assistant.

“How long have they been in there?” I asked Matt.

“Just over an hour,” he said, glancing at his watch.

It seemed as though time had stopped. As I paced up and down the empty lobby, the only sounds were my shoes squeaking against the vinyl floor and the faint buzzing of the overhead lights. Outside there was an eerie twilight. Night had fallen, but the glow of the city brightened the darkness to a somber gray. It felt as if we were the only two inhabitants of a strange nightmare void.

“You should sit down,” Matt said.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s in there.”

There was a pause. I could tell Matt was patiently trying to decipher my reply. He was going to make a damn good psychologist.

“But . . . he’s going to be in there no matter what you do,” he said slowly and carefully. “You might as well relax.”

“No! I can’t!” I shouted. For some reason I was really irritated with him, even though he’d done nothing but help me.

My anger didn’t seem to faze him at all. “Why not?”

“Because! Because I don’t deserve to!” My voice seemed to catch on something. Before I realized it, a new round of tears began streaming down my cheeks. I stood there wavering while my sight went blurry and my legs grew weak.

Matt came up, put his arm around me and led me to the chairs.

“I don’t deserve to sit down!” I cried, even as I sank into the seat. “It’s my fault he got hurt!”

There. I’d said it. I’d voiced the horrible thought that had been lurking inside me. Now that it was out and I was forced to face it, an agonizing pain was shooting through my body at soul-level. My breath came in short ragged gasps, and tears dripped all over my dusty clothes.

“It’s not your fault,” Matt said, still holding me steady. “It was an accident.”