Rebel at Spruce High

I regret my recklessness. Deeply.

When I turn the next corner, I come to a stop. In the pool of light from a nearby streetlamp, a small figure is crouched, poised and waiting, maybe ten paces away.

A dog.

Chills race down my back. I only a minute ago thought of the mythical pack of dogs, didn’t I? Did I manifest this? Is this some kind of karmic joke, teaching me not to make light of suburban legends? Is this my penance?

The dog barks once, then breaks into a sprint.

So do I.

My Biggie’s Bites apron gets lost, flying from my hand as I run down the road. The only noise in the whole world is my feet slapping the pavement. I’m so, so sorry for summoning the dark dog spirits! Please, please don’t hurt me! Please! I can’t stop my feet as I tear around another corner, coming up to the other side of Spruce High, running in the wrong direction away from home. The scary dog is no doubt chasing me. I think it’s barking, but I can’t seem to hear anything except the noise of my own labored breathing.

Something catches my foot.

For one beautiful second, I’m airborne.

Then I slam face-first into a sloppy, gooey pile of mud. Or at least I think that’s what it is, and it’s all over me. Whatever sidewalk I was racing down has ended abruptly, and now a field of dirt, dead grass, and mud stretches in the darkness ahead.

The dog’s panting breath is on me in seconds.

I cower, cover my head, and scream out, “STOP! GO AWAY!”

Until the dog’s tongue laps at my quivering nose, and its foul breath blasts eagerly over my cheeks.

I wrinkle my nose and twist away from the dog, opening my eyes. Caked in mud and reeking of filth, I sit up at once when I get a look at her dopey face. “W-Winona?”

She continues lovingly assaulting me with her big wet tongue, licking and panting and breathing all over me. I break into a laugh of hysteria at once, as I attempt to manage the excited dog, who is determined to climb all over me and make me twice as muddy as I just made myself. I am such an idiot.

And this dog needs a breath mint.

“Hey! Dog!”

Winona and I both look up, like two ashamed kids who were just caught by daddy playing in the mud. A few steps ahead, standing where the sidewalk ended, is a tall figure. From here, he is just a silhouette, the light from the streetlamp behind him casting him in total shadow.

The guy seems to quickly realize I’m not in danger, and his tone changes. “The hell you doing down there, Toby?”

Wait a second. Is that …? “Vann??” I blurt out, just as a clump of mud dislodges itself from my chin and plops into my lap.

Vann, as light-footed and nimble as a ghost, hops off the edge of the concrete and extends a hand to me. Wordlessly, I take it. Back on my feet, I brush off some of the mud, then realize it’s a lost cause as I trudge back onto the street, a complete mess.

I turn to Vann. “What’re you doing out here?” I ask right back at him. “Do you live here?”

“No.” He peers down at Winona. “This dog yours?”

“She’s, uh …” Winona circles my legs like a giant cat, panting maniacally. “Yes, technically. I’m … guessing one of the two idiots I live with didn’t close a door and she got out.”

Vann regards Winona for a moment. Then he crouches down, and Winona immediately takes that as an invitation to go crazy on his face, licking at him. Vann smirks, amused, as he rubs her ears and head, appearing unbothered by her muddy state.

But I’m still not satisfied. “What are you doing out here if you don’t live here?”

“Dunno.” He rises back to his feet. “How else am I gonna get to know this town if I don’t … well … get to know it a bit?”

I squint uncertainly at him. “By walking around at midnight?”

He just shrugs. Winona breaks away and heads down the road a bit, stops, and peers back at us, as if waiting for us to follow her.

I look at him. “Well … thanks for almost saving my life, but it turns out I was never really in danger.”

“No prob.”

“I, uh …” My mind is racing. I’m still stuck on the idea of him just wandering around aimlessly at midnight and somehow ending up on the same street I’m on. I mean, this is a small town, but that is quite an odd chance encounter. “I … lost my apron somewhere down the street. I don’t know where.”

“So let’s get it,” Vann mumbles, heading off.

As we walk down the street, Winona excitedly leads the way, panting and staying several paces ahead of us, nearly lost to the dark. I hope all her running around out here cleans her off enough not to track too much back to the house. I know no matter whose fault it is for letting the dog out, it’ll be mine for getting the house full of mud. I can already picture how Stepdad Carl will twist this all around on me.