My Boyfriends' Dogs (7 page)

“A cruise to Aruba—first prize. Second prize is another vacuum cleaner. But third prize is a year's supply of oatmeal, which we could use for cookies, right?”

“Umm-hmm.” The second hand hadn't moved, I swear.

“Bailey, when is that boy supposed to bring that dog here?”

“
Went
is bringing
Adam
before school,” I explained. “I'm going outside to wait.” The sky was gray and cloudy, a little threatening. I was glad I'd opted for a jacket. I heard the garage door open, and Mom walked out, heading for the van.

Then I saw him. He came jogging around the corner with Adam right behind him.

“Went!” I shouted, waving.

Adam poured on speed when he heard me. He passed Went and jumped into my arms. “I missed you too, Adam. You're going to love it at my house.”

“Sorry I'm late.” Went looked like he'd just rolled out of bed—hair disheveled, wrinkled white T-shirt, khaki shorts, sandals. He was adorable.

“No problem. We can get Adam settled and still have time to walk to school.” I wanted to walk with Went to give us more time alone.

Mom backed the van down the drive, then stopped. “Went,” she said coolly.

“Hi, Mrs. Daley. Thanks for letting my dog stay here. I haven't forgotten about refinishing that table for you.”

“Neither have I,” Mom said. “Bailey, do you want a ride?”

I took Went's arm. “No thanks. We're good. Bye, Mom.”

Mom revved the engine and drove off.

“Come on. I'll show you both around.” I couldn't help wondering what Went would think of our little home. It was eclectic. That's what Mom called it. The whole house was furnished with her garage-sale finds or treasures from garbage picks.

Went and I walked through the living room, past end tables loaded with antiques and knickknacks.

“What a cool room,” Went said.

All the tension drained from me. “You like it?”

“I love it. I wish we had time to look at everything. Is that a real war helmet? ”

“World War Two. There's one from Vietnam down there.” I pointed to a triangular wooden table in the far corner. “I'll give you the tour after school if you like.”

I showed Adam his water dish and makeshift bed. Then I kissed him goodbye. Went didn't say goodbye to our dog, probably because Adam was so into me. We slipped out the door fast, leaving the whimpering Adam on the other side. As we walked away, I heard the
scratch, scratch, scratch
on our wooden front door.

There had never been a better walk to school than the one Went and I had that gray morning. Sometimes we held hands. Sometimes Went put his arm around my waist or over my shoulders. I barely knew what we were talking about, but I was acutely aware of every movement of Went's body next to mine. I prayed cars would drive by. I wanted everyone to see us.

“Hey,” he said when we were almost to school. “Sorry I didn't call you back last night. I didn't see your message until it was too late.”

It had taken all my willpower not to ask him about that, but I hadn't wanted to appear needy, the kind of girlfriend who phones her boyfriend two dozen times to hear the sound of his voice on voice mail. “No sweat.”

“Cool.”

I waited for him to tell me where he'd been, but he didn't.

It wasn't until lunch that I learned at least part of the story. The minute Went sat in the seat I'd held for him, Darius and Dave and some of their crew plopped down with us. They were the most popular guys in the school, and they got in the most trouble. Amber glared at me, like it was my fault these guys were sitting with us. She should have been grateful. Most girls in the cafeteria would have killed to be sitting where we were.

Darius rubbed his temples. He and I used to be in the same Sunday-school class when we were kids. “I should have stayed in bed. You hungover, Went?”

“Nah. I'm good.”

Maybe I should have been shocked, but I'd been to parties where guys did shots and most girls drank whatever they were handed.

The rest of lunch was dominated by the Dave Crew. Amber bailed halfway through and sat with some of our other friends. I acted like I was part of the gang. Guys had to be guys. And at least Went hadn't been with Carly.

 

The next days were wonderful. I had a boyfriend. We walked to school together, or rode in Mom's van if he got to our house too late for us to walk. Van rides were never as good as walks. Mom generally ranted the whole way as she detailed Adam's list of sins, crimes, and misdemeanors. Turned out the ol' dog wasn't very housebroken. Plus, he loved chewing on furniture, scratching doors, and destroying shoes. Otherwise, Adam was a sweetheart. I couldn't sit down without having the little terrier spring into my lap.

Usually after school, one of Went's new buddies would drop us off at my house, where Adam would greet me for five solid minutes. Then Went and I would walk Adam together. I was never ready for them to leave.

Weekends were different. I barely saw Went. It must have been my third week as Went's girlfriend that the weekend loneliness hit hard. I called Amber to complain. “Why doesn't he ask me out on the weekend? I've dropped enough hints to fell a good-sized elephant.”

“You know he goes to Dave's parties.” She sounded tired of this conversation.

“I know.”

“So, it's the twenty-first century, Bailey. If you want to go out with Went,
you
ask
him
.”

Amber was right. I talked her into coming over for moral support while I made the big call to Went. She watched while I dialed. “You've got his number memorized, I see,” she observed. “You must be the girlfriend.”

“You're not helping.” The phone rang once. “He probably won't answer.” Twice. “Maybe I should text him instead.” Three times. “I told you he—”

“Yeah?”

“Went?” My heart pounded. Amber moved in closer and nudged my arm.

“Hey, Bailey.” He sounded really glad to hear from me. “What's up?” In the background I could hear music and voices. Somebody laughed, a guy.

“I called because I just had an idea,” I said.

“Okay.” He said something to somebody there. It sounded like, “Not now. I'm talking.” Something like that. “So, what's this idea you just had?”

“Well . . .” I was starting to back down. Maybe I could make up an idea that didn't involve me asking him for a date.

“Do it!” Amber whispered, elbowing me again so hard it hurt.

I took a breath and let it go. “I was thinking it would be fun for you and me to go out tomorrow night because it's Saturday and people around here consider Saturday date night, which is why I was thinking it would be a good idea if we went on one.” I'd said it so fast I didn't know if Went could possibly have understood me.

He laughed softly, but it didn't feel like he was laughing at me. “Sure. But I'm not going to Millet Movies.”

Relieved, I smiled at Amber and gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Don't tell me you've seen both movies already?”

“No. But I rejected both movies already, like two years ago. Besides, Big Barry creeps me out. What else is there to do around here?”

I looked to Amber. She was smushed next to me, her ear to the phone. What
was
there to do in Millet besides go to a movie?

Amber swooshed her arm in front of her. She did this until I realized she was mimicking bowling.

“I guess there's a bowling alley, but I'm really lousy at bowling.”

“No bowling. If my buddies back in L.A. heard that I'd gone bowling, I could never return to California.”

That made me want to bowl with him. No way I wanted him returning to California. “Hey!” I was getting another idea. “You like animals, right?”

“Don't tell me you want us to walk Adam on our big date.”

I ignored that. “Any chance you could get your dad's car?”

“I think so. What's in that pretty little head of yours?”

Pretty little head?
I liked that, coming from Went. “The zoo. There's a zoo in Larkfield. It's not L.A. or San Diego, but it's fun. Went Smith, would you go to the zoo with me tomorrow?”

“Bailey Daley of Ukulele Lane, it would be an honor.”

“Yes!” Amber exclaimed, jumping to her feet and doing a little dance.

“What was that?” Went asked.

“Nothing. So, we're on?”

“I'll be by for you tomorrow morning. Night, Bailey.”

When he said that, I melted inside.

“You were never
this
excited when I took you to the zoo,” Mom observed. She was still in her penguin PJ's, worn in honor of my zoo date.

“Was too excited about the zoo when you took me.” But I knew she was right. I'd been up since 6:00 A.M.—on a Saturday. I glanced at the clock—again. It was almost 10:00. “What time does the zoo open?”

Mom kept cutting something out of a magazine, probably a contest. “I can't remember, Bailey. Maybe ten? When did Went say he was picking you up?”

“We just said morning.” Which was idiotic. Why didn't I nail down the time? Clearly, I needed girlfriend practice.

An hour and a half later, I was a wreck. I'd worn a path by the window, watching for Went. I'd changed clothes twice and shoes once. Mom hit garage sales and came back to find me eating cereal out of the box, a nervous habit I'd developed in third grade.

“Call him,” Mom pleaded. “If you don't, I will.”

“He'll be here. It's still morning, right?”

Finally, at ten minutes past noon, Went drove up and honked.

“About time,” Mom muttered.

I hurried out the door and ran to the blue Buick. I thought about giving Went a piece of my mind for making me wait all morning. I thought about tearfully explaining how hard it had been on me to wait and wait. But when I saw him behind the wheel, his muscled arm sticking out of a white tee, all I could think was how grateful I was that this hunk was mine. My boyfriend.

Went's tanned face lit up when he saw me. “Hey, Bailey! Ready to party with the animals?” He reached across the front seat and opened my door.

I slid in and kissed him. The kiss kind of missed and landed on his chin. “On to the orangutan!”

He revved the engine. “Hip, hip, hippopotami!”

I buckled my seat belt. But if the Buick hadn't had bucket seats, I can't say how close I might have gotten to my boyfriend. All the way to Larkfield we sang animal songs, resorting to “Old MacDonald” when we ran out of pop animal lyrics. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, it had already been the best date I'd ever had.

At the entrance gate, I dug in my purse for my wallet.

“My treat,” Went said, putting his hand over mine.

“I can pay for me,” I offered. “After all, I asked you to the zoo.”

“I'd like to buy the tickets, Bailey.” He put his money on the ticket counter, then turned back to me. “Unless it's a big feminist rights thing for you?”

“Thanks, Went. I'll buy our snacks.”

He laughed. “Deal. And man, did you get the short end of that stick.”

Larkfield Zoo was tiny compared to the St. Louis zoo, where Mom used to take me. I hoped Went wouldn't think it was boring. I headed for the water animals first. “They don't have penguins. Can't afford a cold house.”

“Penguins are overrated,” Went said. “Give me a good, solid seal any day.”

I couldn't believe he'd said that. “Seals are my favorite!” We took off running, and when we reached the seal and otter area, we were both out of breath. The seals swam in a pool about twice the size of the school gym. “I named every seal in this place.”

“When?”

“When I was five.”

Went laughed. “And these are the same seals?”

“Of course.”

“So tell me their names.” He gripped the metal bar that kept people from sliding down the pit into the water.

I pointed to the big seal sunning herself on a rock. “That one's named Bailey.”

Went raised his eyebrows at me. “Bailey? Interesting name for a seal. Where'd you get it?”

I ignored him and pointed to two seals swimming side by side toward the zookeeper, who was dangling fish above the water. “Bailey and Bailey. They're brother and sister.”

“Both named Bailey?”

“I was five,” I reminded him.

A seal lumbered out of the water and slid onto the sunning rock.

“Let me guess,” Went said. “Bailey?”

“You guessed it! I had no idea you were so clever.”

Went slipped his arm around my waist. We watched the seals together while the sun beat down on us, and scratchy music played from a speaker somewhere, and all the seal Baileys ate fish tossed to them by the zookeeper.

When the seals were finished, Went glanced around. “Is there a water fountain around here? I'm thirsty.”

“Ooh. I don't know. But there's a shaved-ice stand right back there. I'll run get us each one. Name your flavor, and guard the seals. I'll be right back.”

It took me a while to find the shaved-ice stand. It wasn't where I'd remembered. I ordered two grapes and waited while the kid shaving the ice did his thing. The zoo wasn't busy, which must have been this guy's cue that he didn't have to rush.

When I got back to the seals, Went wasn't there.

I circled the seal pool and found him a few yards away at the otters. He was talking to a redhead I recognized from school. She'd graduated from Millet Central and was probably a senior at Tri-County, where I'd go next year. Tanya or Toni, something like that. She was holding the hand of a little girl who looked like a miniature of herself.