Dog Beach Unleashed Read online

  It’s the best thing in the world.

  “What’s up?” Micayla says.

  “Can’t sleep. I dunno. What about you?”

  She sighs. “Me neither. My sister and my mom had this huge fight, and it’s been bugging me.”

  “What was the fight about?” I ask.

  “Something boring, like studying abroad. My mom thinks my sister should consider it, but my sister doesn’t want to because of what her friends are doing, or something like that. I don’t really know.” She pauses. “I hate it when they fight.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “That sounds horrible.”

  “What’s on your mind? Why can’t you sleep?” she asks me.

  “Well, a few things. I guess partly the whole Claire situation. I feel like she’s going through such a hard time, and I don’t know how to help. And then there’s what you said before.”

  “About Calvin?” She groans. “I shouldn’t have told you. I knew you’d freak out.”

  “Freak out?” I say way too loudly for almost one in the morning. “I’m not freaking out. I’m just thinking about it.”

  “Right now you’re freaking out because I said you were freaking out.” She laughs. “See what I mean?”

  “No.” I roll my eyes, wishing she could see that through the phone. “Just tell me why you think that. Okay?”

  “I overheard him telling Bennett.”

  My heart pounds. “What do you mean, he told Bennett? Like, he said it flat out?”

  “Kind of. I mean, it was in boy talk. They said ‘dude’ a lot and ‘yeah, she’s cool’ and that kind of thing.”

  “And what did Bennett say?” I ask.

  She waits a second to answer. “He was just, like, ‘Cool, go for it.’ ”

  “Really?” My entire heart slips away like an ice cream cone dropped on a hot sidewalk.

  If Bennett doesn’t care, then he doesn’t like me the way I thought he did. I know I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, but it still stings to know he doesn’t like me.

  My mind spins in circles like the spiral paintings we used to do on the boardwalk.

  Micayla yawns. “Yeah, but you know how guys are. Don’t stress about it. I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

  “No, it’s okay. Mic, I’m feeling sleepy now, actually. See you tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock, Dog Beach, okay?”

  “Okay,” she says. “Nighty-night.”

  I can’t believe Bennett would say that to Calvin. I don’t know how I’ll face him tomorrow. And I don’t know how I’ll face Calvin, either. Plus, I’m worried about Claire.

  There are so many problems surrounding the people on our dog-sitting team, and I don’t know how to fix any of them.

  I’m so tired the next morning that a whole day with the dogs seems like running a marathon in high heels.

  Bennett texts me and suggests a swimming lesson for later in the day, but I tell him no. I don’t have the energy to swim. More important, I don’t have the energy to worry about a swimming lesson with Bennett.

  “Come on, Mari,” I say. She’s tired, too, and frankly kind of annoyed that I kept her up last night. She growls at me, which she never, ever does.

  “Stop. I’m sorry. I had things on my mind,” I say to her.

  Her growl turns into a whimper, and she nudges my calf with her nose as we walk to Dog Beach.

  “Thanks for understanding,” I tell her.

  We get to Dog Beach, and Calvin, Claire, and a few of the dogs are already there. I sit down on the bench with Marilyn Monroe and take longer than necessary to get out her treats and her special water bowl. I don’t want to go over to the others. I don’t know how to act. And then it occurs to me—I wonder if Claire knows that Calvin likes me. I mean, if it’s even true that he likes me.

  It seems too crazy to be true. I don’t think Micayla would lie about it, but it just doesn’t seem to make sense.

  I’m filling up Marilyn Monroe’s bowl with the spring water she likes (she’s very particular) when Claire comes over.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey.” I look up and smile. “How are you?”

  “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you to always look at me like I’m about to cry. Okay?”

  “I didn’t realize I was doing that. Sorry.”

  “You don’t always do it,” she clarifies. “But sometimes you do. And it’s annoying.”

  “Got it.” The truth is, now I feel like I’m about to cry. Hearing that I’m doing something annoying feels like I just poked a thumbtack into my finger.

  “Anyway, what’s going on with you?” she asks.

  I look over at Marilyn Monroe, who has fallen asleep on the sand. “We both had insomnia last night,” I explain.

  “I’ll bring over a lounge chair for you,” she says. “I can take the early shift.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I think I should be alert and ready for the clients. And remember what happened last time we lounged too long?”

  She looks at me, confused.

  “The whole Marilyn Monroe Mornings incident.” Last summer Mari got too wild at Mornings one day, and let’s just say that she was not welcomed back. “We were too groggy from sleep to think clearly!”

  Claire cracks up. “Okay, well, maybe you need a latte or something.”

  Claire’s one of those kids who drinks coffee sometimes, and I’ve tried it, but I don’t really like the taste. Maybe a Coke, though. I’ll definitely need a Coke later.

  Claire goes to greet Rascal and Atticus when Paul and Andi drop them off, and I close my eyes for a second. When I open them, Calvin is sitting next to me.

  “Hey,” he says. “Slacking again?”

  “Again?” I glare at him. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m kidding,” he says. “What’s up?”

  I don’t know where to look, where to focus my eyes. Anywhere but on Calvin. “Not much, really.” I force an awkward smile. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. And it seems like it’s never just the two of us. I’m worried about Claire.”

  He sighs. “Yeah, she’s having a tough time.”

  I wait for him to say more, or to say how he’s feeling, but he doesn’t.

  “How are you doing?” I ask.

  He gives me a look, as if there’s absolutely no reason for me to be asking that. “Fine. I’m fine.”

  I get the sense that he wants to put an end to this conversation. This may have been the longest chat I’ve ever had with Calvin, and it feels impossible to keep it going.

  “I got you something, and I keep forgetting to give it to you,” he says. “My dad took me to this used bookstore before we came to Seagate. I saw a book there that I knew you had to have.”

  “What is it? I can’t take the suspense.”

  He pulls a tiny book out of the pocket of his cargo shorts and hands it to me. Its title is Understanding Your Dog: A Breed-by-Breed Guide.

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “I figured it would be good for you to have. You know, because we have some new clients and stuff. This will give us some insight into the different breeds and everything.”

  “Yeah, definitely.” I flip through the book. “Maybe it’ll help us figure out why Lester is going through some kind of emotional crisis. Oh, look at this! A quiz! We can take it and find out which breed is right for us.”

  He laughs. “You can become a dog matchmaker. You’ll help people find their ideal canine companion!”

  “You’re totally on to something! If my doggie day care business doesn’t work out, I’ll try dog matchmaking.”

  I start asking Calvin the quiz questions, and the awkwardness melts away. It feels normal to be hanging out with him. Fun, even.

  And then Claire comes over to us with her hands on her hips and says, “What are you guys laughing about? You sound like hyenas.”

  “Nothing. I just gave Remy that book I found when Dad took us to that cool used bookstore in Amenia.”
/>   “Oh. Yeah. Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Dad will probably never take us anywhere ever again. We should have appreciated it more when he took us places.”

  Calvin digs the toe of his sneaker into the sand. “Dramatic much? I’m sure he’ll take us other places.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” Claire says, and the awkwardness comes back. I don’t know what to say. “Anyway, are you guys gonna help watch the dogs? Or you’re on vacation here? Because Lester and Ritzy are growling at each other again, Oreo won’t stop peeing, and Rascal just ate a whole salad of seaweed. And, frankly, Marilyn Monroe looks really bored by it all.”

  Her last two points don’t surprise me. Rascal is always eating the wrong things. The Newfoundland manages to find a way into the other dogs’ food, even though he has pretty specific dietary restrictions. And Marilyn Monroe is always bored when I’m not around. She needs constant entertainment.

  It was so sweet of Calvin to bring me that book. And it has me thinking about something else: he brought up his dad to me. He never does that.

  The three of us walk over to the dogs, and the situation is worse than I expected. Rascal is lying on the ground, whimpering. His stomach bobs in and out.

  “I think he’s dehydrated. I’m trying to get him to drink, but he won’t,” Micayla says. “We should take him home.”

  “What did he eat?” I ask. “Besides the seaweed?”

  Micayla clenches her teeth as if she doesn’t want to tell me. “He got into some of Atticus’s treats. He can’t have those, because he has some kind of gluten allergy.”

  “Dogs have gluten allergies, too?” Claire says. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “No, it’s true,” Micayla explains. She’s really taken ownership of Rascal and Atticus this summer. I think she feels closer to them since Paul was her teacher last year. “I’m going to call Mr. Jennings and Andi.”

  “No, don’t!” I yell, and then I lower my voice. “They’ll think we’re not capable of taking care of the dogs. We can’t have that. We need to handle this ourselves.”

  “Well, you should have been paying more attention,” Micayla says, annoyed at me. “You were on the bench relaxing, and then this happened. Bennett and I were here by ourselves with all the dogs.”

  “Hey! What am I? Chopped liver?” Claire says, and then she starts laughing. “My grandpa says that all the time. I don’t even get it, but it’s funny.”

  “You weren’t paying attention, either,” Micayla reminds her. “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “Okay, guys, calm down,” Bennett says. “Let’s think about this. I’ll try to get Rascal to drink some water from his bowl. Things will be easier to figure out if we stay calm.”

  I take a deep breath and rub Rascal’s back. And then I remember: Josh!

  The improv troupe guy. He’s studying at Yale to be a vet. He knows things about dogs. He said so himself.

  “Rascal seems really weak. He can barely lift up his head.” Bennett looks up at me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

  “Remy, I don’t think we should ignore this,” Micayla says.

  She’s right. I messed up, and I need to handle it.

  Atticus looks worried, pacing back and forth on the sand. All the dogs are concerned, actually. They’re hovering around the Newfoundland, and they won’t do any of their activities. Oreo keeps nudging Rascal with his nose, and he doesn’t even respond.

  “Okay, we have to do something,” I admit finally. “That kid Josh said he knows some stuff about dogs. Maybe he can help.”

  Thankfully, Josh answers his phone. He’s finishing up breakfast at Mornings. He says he’ll come right over.

  “All right, what do we have here?” Josh says in a jokey tone as he runs down the beach a minute later. Maybe I shouldn’t have called him. Maybe he really doesn’t know anything.

  We explain the situation.

  “Two things are happening here,” Josh informs us. “He has an upset stomach, and he’s dehydrated.”

  Duh. We know that.

  “I’ll be right back!” He starts running across the sand.

  “Wait! Don’t leave! What if something happens?” I yell, not meaning to. My heart is racing, and everything feels out of control right now.

  “Two minutes,” Josh calls over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  We stand around Rascal and keep putting his water bowl in front of him. Micayla rubs his belly, and Calvin tells him that everything is going to be okay. Claire and Bennett take care of the other dogs.

  “Oh, this is so terrible,” I say over and over again. “How did this happen?”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Calvin says. To me this time, and not to Rascal. “Really, it’ll be okay. Humans get upset stomachs. Dogs do, too. That’s all.”

  At this moment, I want to give Calvin some kind of medal. He knows exactly what to say. He doesn’t even seem frazzled or stressed.

  He stays focused and strong. His face is serious but reassuring.

  “Are you sure?” I ask him.

  “Yes. Don’t worry. And Josh wouldn’t have left if he thought Rascal was really in danger. He’ll be back, and everything will be fine.”

  I look at Calvin. His shorts are frayed on the bottoms, and his polo shirt has a bleach stain under the collar. But all I see is how cute he looks. I don’t know why I never realized how amazing he is.

  Josh hustles back to us. “Okay, I have some ice. This will help. And I also got a scoop of lemon sorbet from Josie Pulerwitz, the owner of Sundae Best. I don’t know why, but it’s been known to soothe even the most troubled of tummies.”

  “Really?” I ask.

  “It’s true,” he says. “Josie gave it to me for the first time when I was six years old. She promises that it’s the best stomach remedy out there. And I believe it. It’s helped me more times than I can count.” He pauses. “Sorry, that may have been too much information.” He laughs.

  Josh gives Rascal the ice slowly, one cube at a time. The Newfoundland is reluctant at first to take any. But then, little by little, he licks and consumes the cubes. I’m not sure if that’s considered eating or drinking, but whatever it is, he is rehydrating, and I’m grateful for that!

  “See? I told you everything would be okay,” Calvin says, putting his arm around me for a second and then pulling it away.

  “You were right.”

  He smiles.

  “Thanks so much, Josh.”

  “No problem.” Josh gives Rascal a tiny taste of lemon sorbet to see if he wants some. The big dog turns away, but then he slowly takes a few licks.

  We all decide that we’ll tell Andi and Paul about Rascal’s stomach problem when they come to pick up their dogs. For now, though, Rascal is happy and playing again.

  And I feel closer to Calvin than ever before. I guess that’s what happens when you go through a crisis together.

  After the Rascal incident, things seem to calm down a little bit. At least in the doggie day care department. We even have a new sign! Mr. Brookfield is friends with Carl McMann from the Seagate Signs Company. He’s the one who makes all the beachy-looking signs that people put up in front of their houses. They have Adirondack chairs on them, or reclining lounges. The signs practically breathe sun, sand, and sea. They say things like GONE SWIMMING, or LIFE IS BETTER AT THE BEACH.

  So, as a surprise, Mr. Brookfield asked Carl to make us a sign to hang at the entrance of Dog Beach. I’m not sure it’s really allowed, but I don’t think anyone is going to force us to take it down.

  It says SEAGATE ISLAND DOGGIE DAY CAMP, so I guess that’s our name now. I like it. And I love that we have a sign. We’re official, and people take us seriously.

  But things also change after the Rascal incident because Josh and I bonded over the crisis that day. His acting troupe stops by in the afternoons to hang with the dogs and practice some improv exercises. For example, one of the troupe members will start doing a random thing, like jumping, and t
hen the others will join in and jump around, too, which leads them to doing other silly movements. They try to include the dogs whenever possible, which causes the actors to have to react or adapt their actions in some funny way. Sometimes the dogs are into it. Sometimes they’re not. I guess that’s what improv is all about. You never really know how it’s going to turn out, but you have to roll with the punches.

  But even though things seem calmer in the Doggie Day Camp department, so much still feels crazy.

  Every morning, I wake up and run outside immediately to check the ocean and see how the weather is. I don’t know why I do it, since it’s impossible to predict the path of a hurricane very far in advance. But the sea makes me feel calmer. I know it’s crazy, but when I’m out there, I talk to the ocean in my head.

  I tell the ocean to stay calm; I tell any possible storms to stay away.

  There was one time, years and years ago, when Grandma had to evacuate the island and come stay with us in Manhattan. She had no idea what was going on in Seagate because the whole island lost power, and everyone was gone. She stayed with us for two weeks and didn’t even know if her house would be there when she got back. It ultimately needed a new roof, and the whole first floor was destroyed. But it could have been worse. She said so herself.

  Marilyn Monroe and I hustle toward Dog Beach, even though we have at least an hour before the other dogs arrive. Claire, Calvin, Micayla, Bennett, and even Mason are doing all the pickups today. They offered, and I didn’t argue with them. And since Mason has been so busy with his Italian lessons, it will be nice to see him for a change.

  I try to study everyone I see on the way to the beach. Are they worried about a storm, too? Do they seem stressed? But to me, everyone looks like their normal, happy Seagate Island selves.

  “See, Mari? Everything’s going to be fine,” I tell her as we’re walking onto Dog Beach. “I don’t understand why we worry about things we can’t control. Things will be the same whether we worry or not.”

  I know all this, and yet I still worry. It doesn’t make sense.

  Mari barks her happy I agree bark and plops down next to me on the sand. She stretches her paws out in front of her and closes her eyes. She’s tired from listening to all of my rambles, I guess. Either that or she’s been up at night worrying, like I have.