Page 46 of Happiness for Beginners

I was way too tired to change into the T-shirt and shorts that were my designated pj’s for the trip, but Beckett had warned us that we absolutely could not sleep in the shirts we’d hiked in that day. They might feel dry now, he said, but they retained sweat and moisture, and if we didn’t change into different clothes, we’d shiver all night.

It was my first experience changing clothes while lying down in a sleeping bag, and let’s just say that my tired muscles weren’t exactly up to it.

“You look like a ferret,” Windy said, shining her flashlight on me. “A ferret with convulsions.”

“That’s about how I feel,” I said.

Windy turned on her side to give watching me her full attention. When I finally pulled my clothes from the day out of the bag and tossed them on top of my pack, she said, “So, no book, huh?”

“Kind of regretting that now,” I said. “My fantasy of this trip was a little—”

“Off target?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll let you borrow my book, if you want,” Windy said.

“Your textbook?”

“It’s very fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said, not meaning it.

“It’s for my Positive Psychology seminar.”

“Are you a psychology major?”

She nodded. “Double, actually—in psych and sociology.” Then she looked up and smiled. “I’m going to be a pet psychologist.”

I coughed a little. “For real?”

“Actually, a dog psychologist.”

“That’s a job?”

Windy nodded. “A lucrative one.”

“I have a dog,” I said.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, squinting. “A cocker spaniel.”

“No,” I said.

Windy looked surprised to get it wrong. “A labradoodle?”

I shook my head.

“I’m usually really good at this,” she said, squinting again. “Havanese!” she declared at last. “National dog of Cuba.”

“Nope.”

“I give up.”

“A dachshund,” I said. “A partly bald, wire-haired dachshund that’s fat as a tick and hates everybody, including me.”

Windy frowned. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a dachshund person.”

“She’s an ankle-biter, too,” I said. “And she’ll eat literally anything. Toilet paper rolls, sponges, lady products. She’s been to the vet for swallowing popsicle sticks, barrettes, Sharpies. She has no sense of self-preservation. And she has a skin disease,” I added. “Her tail is all hairless, like a rat. She looks terrible.”

---