The Miles Between

“Yes!” Mira adds. “A cross between a Lambshire terrier and a poodle.”

Baaaa!

“Lucky, stop barking,” Aidan admonishes him. “He does that when he wants to play ball. You have a ball?”

The deputy’s eyes narrow. He pushes his hat farther back on his head and rubs the side of his face with his free hand. “A lambadoodle,” he repeats.

“That’s right,” I say. “They’re all the rage in Paris.”

Mira leans closer to the deputy. “Very expensive,” she whispers, rolling her eyes. “Ooh-la-la!”

“Thousands,” I add. “But you can pet him, if you like.”

He is silent, carefully eyeing Lucky. He takes a step to one side and then the other, checking Lucky out from all vantage points. He pinches his chin.

“Just make sure you clean up after your dog,” he finally says.

“Yes, sir!” Seth and Mira spout at the same time.

The deputy reluctantly reaches out and touches Lucky’s head.

Baaaa!

He walks past us, shaking his head. I hear him mumble under his breath, but the only word I catch is Paris.

We wait until we are half a block away, walking as straight as wooden soldiers,

before any of us say anything. Aidan stiffly turns around and looks behind us. “All clear,” he tells us, and we let loose with riotous laughter.

“Never in a million years did I think he would buy that,” Aidan says.

“Me either!”

Mira pats Lucky’s head. “But Lucky was behaving himself. It’s only fair!”

“Great performance, Lucky,” Seth says. “You were right, Des. Why put doubts in his head?”

So I am finally right about something. It is good to hear. Especially from Seth. “Let’s go get our dog a ball.” Kicking one foot out in front of me, I add, “And some shoes that don’t remind me we are Hedgebrook escapees.”

“Field trip,” Aidan says. “It’s only an unauthorized field trip.”

“Right. A field trip,” I answer. No need to put doubts in Aidan’s head either.

21

WE WALK IN SEARCH of a shoe store. Mira asks me for the hundredth time if I am sure that I want to spend my money on shoes for the rest of them. I am tempted to tell her it is not my money at all just to quiet her, but then I might have to explain even more, like the car that is not truly mine. I know that might bring the day to a bitter halt. I am not ready for that. “I’m sure, Mira,” I tell her. She thanks me for the hundredth time. I want to punch her, but I refrain.

“I could really go for a hot dog,” Aidan says.

Seth laughs. “You? What about all those fillers you complain about at Hedgebrook?”

“I’m already going to get chewed up and spit out for our little escapade today. Might as well live dangerously with the time I have left.”

“That’s you. Danger boy,” Mira says, and giggles. But the way she says it, it sounds more like a compliment than a dig, and I wonder if that is how Aidan takes it.

We reach our first cross street, and just around the corner is a street vendor. His large white cart is topped with a red-striped umbrella and is loaded with relishes and mustard and ketchup. And, of course, plenty of hot dogs.

“Aren’t you amazingly lucky?” I say.