Page 34 of Pretty Dogs

Ihuff out a skeptical breath. “I’lltry to internalize that, but it might take a while.”

Witha quiet chuckle, he starts walking again. “That’sfine.It’sstill true.”

Scoutlaughs loudly enough for the sound to carry back to us.Iwatch the silver and gold heads bobbing together as they goof around and push each other.Theirlifelong friendship forms the core of this little family, whileRomanandIwere both dirty strays they adopted in the last few years.Nowwe’re a unit, unbreakable, and it’s impossible to imagine how any of us lived without the others.

“Ihave a question,”Iblurt out. “Ahypothetical one.”Romaneyes me curiously asIfumble for words. “Youknow the saying about a bird falling in love with a fish, and they don’t have anywhere to live?”

Hisright eyebrow creeps up asIkeep babbling. “Butimagine instead that a bird falls in love with another bird, but that bird doesn’t have wings.Andthe first bird’s favorite thing to do is fly, but he’s like ‘It’sokay, bird friend,Idon’t mind sitting on the ground with you.’Thenthe second bird doesn’t know if he’s actually saying that because he means it, or just because he’s trying to…I’velost you, haven’tI?”

Romanpoints a thumb over his shoulder. “Youlost me so far back you hadn’t even started talking yet.”

“Thisis ridiculous.”Ialmost trip onTubbs, who stopped to lick a weed. “Justtry to imagine a hypothetical where someone is missing something really important to the other person.Howdo they know if it’s going to work out?”Iscrunch up my forehead and dig the toe of my sneaker into the dirt, trying to hide the emotions clogging up my throat. “Howcan they trust it, when the other person says it will be okay?Becausethat person can’t know, can they?Howcould anyone know?”

WhenIstop, there’s such a long silence thatIglance back to make sureRoman’sstill there.He’swatching me with a perplexed expression.JustwhenIthinkI’velost him again, he sighs and rubs his forehead. “You’rekidding, right?”

“Huh?”Iblink at him.

Heexhales a faint, incredulous laugh. “Dallas,Ican’t talk.NotwhenScoutneeds to have an important conversation.Notwhen we’re doing a kink that requires communication, or whenIknow he desperately wants to hear me call himsir.Notwhen we’re filming porn that would make more money ifIcould speak.Itdoesn’t pick and choose convenient times.Usuallyit happens right when he needs me the most.”Fallingsilent, he shrugs.Hedoesn’t look ashamed or sad, just wistful.

“I’msorry,”Ioffer meekly. “Thatwas insensitive of me.You’rejust you, and you’re perfect, so we forget what you’re dealing with.”

Hewaves off my apologies with a slightly impatient hand. “Whateverthat shit was with the birds, the answer is thatIcan’t know.Ifit weren’t for me, maybeScoutcould have ended up with someone better, who wasn’t missing parts.Butevery word out of his mouth and everything he’s ever done tells meI’mwhat he wants.Andthe fact that it doesn’t make sense, that it goes against logic?That’shis problem, not mine.Myjob is just to believe him.”

“Oh.”Istare at him, trying to let the words sink in.Theycontradict everythingIknow about how to make good choices and keep my heart safe.Ina way, it sounds like that moment when you’re meditating and your brain finally lets go of its last grip.Youtrust the earth to hold you and the air to feed your lungs as you wait, open enough to be hurt, but truly alive for the first time.

Forgettingto be subtle,Iglance over to whereBeckandScouthave stopped to wait for us.Beck’sshirt is already dirty, and his hair immediately reverted to its usual wild state.WhenIturn back toRoman, he raises his eyebrows at me. “Scoutwon’t be upset,” he says quietly. “ButI’mgood at keeping secrets.Fora little while.”

“Thankyou.”Ireach over and squeeze his thick forearm. “You’rean amazing friend,Rome.”

Beaming, he clicks his tongue atTubbsto coax him into a reluctant trot so we can catch up.Beckleads us down through the tall grass, over a fallen trunk thatTubbsglares at and insists on walking around, and past a copse of dense aspen trees that shield the clearing from the view of anyone who isn’t walking along the river.

I’mso lost in my head thatIdon’t process what’s happening untilIhear the urgent snapping of twigs underfoot.Beckbarks “Hey, hey, hey” in a loud, warning tone, followed by an unfamiliar voice yelling “Getthe fuck out!”

WhenRomanandIbreak out of the trees a few steps later,Beckhas his hands up in a halting gesture, locked in a face-off with a man around our age.Theman’s cropped brown hair and dark-rimmed glasses don’t look intimidating, but he’s gripping a splintery piece of wood with nails sticking out of it like he’s a baseball player who wants to hit a home run withBeck’shead.

I’vewatched this man die once already, andIhave no interest in doing it again.ButbeforeIcan think of a plan,Tubbsbarrels between us, ripping the leash out ofRoman’shand, and squares up next toBeckwith all his hair bristling.I’venever heard him make a sound like the thundering, furious barking that jolts through his whole body.Theboy stumbles backwards with a terrified yelp and trips on a clump of grass.Hismakeshift weapon flies out of his hand when his ass hits the dirt, andBeckpounces on it.

Tremblingso hardIcan see it from whereI’mstanding, the boy scoots away from us.Hiswide eyes and upturned nose look exactly likeCalvin’s. “Getout,” he croaks. “Please, we don’t have anything.Iswear.”

“Theo!”Grassrustles as a small figure in a familiar giant hoodie comes bounding up from the river, clutching his kitten to his chest. “Theo, stop.Thoseare my friends!”Calvincomes to a panting stop and glares at his companion accusingly, like he’s the one bullying us instead of the other way around.

Athick, awkward silence falls, only broken by a few noisy crows fighting in the distance.Romanclears his throat to get the kid’s attention, then points fromTubbsto the kitten.Tubbsjust pants heavily, like the effort of being angry for ten seconds tired him out.

“Awesome!”Calvinbrightens up. “Comesit in the living room.”Ihave no idea what he’s talking about untilInotice the careful lines of sticks and rocks laid out in an irregular grid across the clearing, like the floorplan for a house.CalvinwavesRomanover to the biggest square, which is decorated with some thoughtfully-arranged log seating.

“Cal,” the older boy snaps, scrambling to his feet and wiping dirt off his hands onto his equally filthy jeans. “WhatdidItell you?Wedon’t make friends.”Butthe kid is already chattering away toRoman, who just nods and shakes his head while they let the two animals sniff each other.Nowthat he’s neutralized the threat,Beckventures away to go helpRomancommunicate.

Theman whose name must beTheowraps his arms around himself and glares at us with a heartbreaking lookIrecognize on a visceral level.Mistrust, fear, hunger, and exhaustion, all wrapped up in a savage need to survive and a deep desire to just give up.Everythingfrom his unmuscled body to the tatters of his expensive-looking cardigan suggests that he got thrown into this life from something very different.

“Whothe hell are you?”Hecan’t hide the shaking in his voice.

“Welive up the road.Youstole our groceries,”Scoutsays coldly.

Theo’seyes darken. “Weneeded to eat.”

“Sodo we.”

“Butyou have a house.”HemeetsScout’sglare with one of his own. “Sowe needed it more.”

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