Storm Watcher (7 page)

“More than seven thousand Americans have been killed by lightning in the past fifty years,” Luke said with authority. He might not be an expert when it came to dogs, but he knew all about thunderstorms.

“Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen here.” She took a step toward the door.

“We have to walk across the lawn to get to the house. We would be the tallest objects. Lightning always strikes the tallest object.” Talking helped calm Luke’s racing heart, and his anxiety eased a little when Megan moved away from the door.

“Are you planning to be a weatherman when you grow up?” Megan asked. “That would be cool.” She joined Luke, who stood as far from the windows and doors as was physically possible.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Luke shrugged. “I could be a meteorologist.”

“A
meteo
what? Is that like studying meteors?” Megan’s dark eyebrows creased together.

“Not meteors from outer space. More like hydrometeors.” Seeing no comprehension in her brown eyes, Luke explained. “Raindrops. A meteorologist studies the weather.”

Megan punched him in the arm. “You’re as bad as Mr. Phillips, my dorky science teacher, using all those fancy words.” She smiled, letting Luke know she was just kidding.

“Do you like science?” he asked.

“Kinda.” She glanced around. “Some stuff is cool, like the units on biology. But that class has stuff we’ll never use.”

“Yeah. What’s the point of memorizing the genus, species, and all those other names when we can look it up on the Internet?”

She agreed. “It’s a complete waste of time.”

The lights flickered, and Luke held his breath until they steadied. Because the storm showed no signs of letting up, Megan let Lance out of his crate. Although she’d never said as much, Luke figured Lance was her favorite. She fed him first, and she played with him the most.

The German shepherd plopped down next to her on the floor and laid his big head in her lap. She scratched him behind the ears, while he grunted in contentment. Lance’s ability to learn fast made him a perfect dog for SAR. He’d probably pass all the certification tests without trouble.

As if reading his thoughts, Megan asked, “Do you ever go out with your dad when he’s on a search-and-rescue mission?”

“No.” Luke reached over and petted Lance. “I’m too young. He won’t even let Jacob and Scott go, at least not yet. He keeps promising them he’ll take them, but...” He shrugged, too embarrassed to explain his dad’s obsession with search and rescue. Having two inexperienced teenagers tagging along would certainly slow him down. “He took us to a SAR open house once, and I learned a few basics about how to handle an emergency situation. It was pretty cool,” Luke said.

“It must be great having a hero as a father,” Megan said wistfully, her gaze focused on a distant point.

“Hero?” Luke had never thought of Dad that way.

“Sure. Rescuing people who might have died. That’s up there with firefighters and police officers.”

Luke squirmed. “What does your father do?”

Megan’s face darkened as if he had invited the storm into the kennel. Luke immediately regretted the question.

“He’s lower than a deer tick on a dog’s butt.” She spat the words out. “You don’t think your father’s a hero? Then you should meet my father.” Megan took a breath, and Luke braced for a deluge.

“Never around, always off with some skank. We thought he’d gotten his money from dealing drugs, but it’s worse than that.” Megan’s hands pressed into Lance’s back. The dog didn’t seem to mind the extra hard rub.

“The last time I saw my father, he was arguing with my mom. He stormed off that night, and the next day all the puppies were gone. Mom had twelve bloodhounds and eight German shepherd pups ready to sell.” She leaned over and rubbed her cheek on Lance’s head.

“He sold them to one of those research labs that experiments on animals. He was their supplier and had been making a living by stealing dogs.”

She wiped her face and straightened. Flicking her hands out from her body as if she were pushing the bad feelings away, she said, “Mom called the police, and we never saw him again.”

Luke thought about the twelve puppies in Willajean’s sunroom. What if they disappeared? It’d be awful.

“You think he would ever show up here?” Luke asked.

“If he does, I’ll sic Lance on him. Right, boy? You’ll get him.”

Lance thumped his tail on the floor and gazed at Megan with his adoring brown eyes. “At least you’ll knock him over in your enthusiasm. Get his pants dirty, that’ll piss him off.” Megan scowled, then stood up without warning. She led Lance back to his crate. “Storm’s over. See you tomorrow.”

“I guess,” Luke said to the closing door. Facing Alayna at seven in the morning would suck. As he biked slowly through the wet streets, he hoped he hadn’t ruined his friendship with Megan by asking about her father.

Saying or doing something stupid. Fact of life.

CHAPTER 6

Dog Boy

Luke’s nightmare turned into reality when he opened the kennel door. Seven a.m. Friday morning, and there stood Alayna in her makeup and color-coordinated glory, dishing out dog food.
Oh no.
Willajean was nowhere in sight.

“You’re late,” Alayna said when she spotted him in the doorway. The clock on the wall read 7:01. “Come on, Dog Boy.” She shoved a bowl of food into his hands. “Get your lazy butt moving. We have work to do.”

Alayna kept up a brisk pace. Luke and Megan hustled to deliver the food, and all the dogs were fed in half the time it usually took. After they’d cleaned up the kitchen, Alayna pointed to the dogs’ runs. “Scoop poop, Luke.” She laughed hard at her own joke, but when Megan moved to go with him she said, “You don’t shovel poop. That’s what Dog Boy is here for.” She pulled Megan with her.

Megan mouthed the word
sorry
as the door shut. Luke slammed the gates, letting the dogs out of their runs and into the fields. Fuming, he banged his scraper against the metal fences. He imagined rubbing Alayna’s face into the bucket of dog droppings. The picture of her makeup smeared with smelly poop made Luke laugh out loud.

“Oh, Alayna,” he said, pretending. “It matches your dung-brown hair and your dirt-brown eyes perfectly.”

Willajean made a brief appearance that afternoon to help set up the training. To Luke’s dismay, she left the three of them to work the dogs while she went back to the house to make phone calls.

“Don’t hold the lead that tight,” Alayna corrected him during one run.

Then later, “The scent pads should be at least six feet apart, Dog Boy.”

And, “Did you take a nap? I sent you to fetch Roulette
ages
ago.”

Alayna continued to pick on him all afternoon. He’d say she treated him like one of the dogs, but she treated the dogs better.

“Are you hard of hearing, or just stupid, Dog Boy?” She snatched a leash from Luke’s hands.

That’s enough.
Luke turned his back on her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Alayna demanded.

Luke hunched his shoulders and kept walking toward the house. Unsure of how long he could endure Alayna’s taunts, he wanted to see the puppies before he either gave in and quit, or Willajean asked him to leave.

His gloomy mood scattered at the sight of the frolicking, clumsy bloodhound puppies. Willajean joined him in the sunroom, and he helped her clean out the newspapers in the two whelping boxes. He picked up one of Lady’s little pups. Holding the white fur ball in one hand, he rubbed the puppy’s back with a finger.

“I just got a call about that last bloodhound pup. Have you talked to your dad yet?” Willajean asked.

He kept his gaze on the pup. “No. He just got back.”

“Can you let me know tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Luke mumbled. He put the puppy back in the box. Holding the pup felt like carrying an ice-cream cone on a hot day and not being able to have a lick.

To make matters worse, Alayna burst into the sunroom.

“There you are,” she said to Luke. Accusation burned in her eyes. “He left us to finish the training,” she whined to her mother. “He doesn’t even know how to train a dog. We don’t need him. Megan and I did fine without him.”

“Alayna,” Willajean said sternly, “Luke and I have a business deal. He’s doing fine. If you’re not happy, I suggest you find another babysitting job.”

Luke wanted to dance an
in-your-face
jig at Alayna, but her bright red lips snapped together as a stubborn line appeared along her jaw. She shot him a glare full of venom that promised revenge. Spinning on her heels, she stomped out.

Willajean shook her head. “Don’t mind her, Luke. She’s upset about losing her job. Since it’s late June, all the summer positions have been taken. So she’s stuck here.”

Luke didn’t know what to say. He glanced out the window. Megan was struggling to get all the dogs into the kennel by herself.

“I’d better go help Megan,” he said.

Luke spent the rest of the week enduring Alayna’s taunts and avoiding Willajean. He should tell her to keep a bloodhound pup for him, but he couldn’t say the words.

An unwelcome sight greeted him Friday night when he arrived home. His brothers had commandeered the living room. Jacob and Scott were watching a movie with their loud, obnoxious friends, while Dad relaxed on his recliner, laughing with Scott over a rude joke.

“Hey, Pooper Scooper’s home,” Jacob said. “Tell Levi here that you’re scooping poop for your summer job. He doesn’t believe me.”

Ignoring them, Luke headed for the stairs. If he stayed, he would become the target of every joke. When they had company, Jacob and Scott didn’t want their little brother hanging around.

Luke tried to read the dog training books. But unable to concentrate, he turned on his weather radio to cover the rowdy noise from downstairs. Half listening to the forecast, Luke flipped through the pages, scanning the words. He couldn’t find a comfortable position on the bed, so he moved to his desk. Propping his feet on top was too high, so he pulled out a bottom drawer, but his chair was too hard.

Finally, Luke took a notebook from his desk and wrote another list of positive reasons for owning a papillon. Despite Dad’s desire for another bloodhound, Luke decided to ask him if he could have one of Lady’s pups anyway. If Dad said
no
, at least he’d tried.

When Dad came up to deliver a couple slices of pizza for dinner, Luke pounced. “Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, buddy, but not right now. I want to see the end of the movie.” His dad waved as he closed Luke’s bedroom door.

Luke tried all weekend to get Dad alone. He suggested going to a movie or the mall. Car rides were good for conversations because there wasn’t that whole eye-contact thing going on. But Dad was too busy fixing stuff around the house or working in the dogs’ shed.

The shed was his father’s masterpiece. Jacob had painted
The Puppy Palace
on the shed door after Dad had installed bunk beds, windows, a ceiling fan, baseboard heaters, and had personalized food and water dishes for each of the three dogs. The boys had been stunned by the effort. Mom had teased Dad about how their own house was falling apart, but the Palace gleamed with three coats of paint.

Sunday afternoon when Dad took Jacob and Scott out to train their dogs, they left Luke behind to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Not invited to go along, Luke stalked around the room as his anger simmered. He tossed the juice glasses into the dishwasher, hoping they’d shatter, but they landed without even cracking.

The newspaper was strewn around the kitchen. Luke smashed the different sections into balls and slam-dunked them into the trashcan. The help-wanted ads caught his eye before he could crush them. His mood improved as he scanned the ads, picturing Alayna working in various positions. Hair-washing assistant. Drive-through-window clerk. Telemarketing operator. Remembering the comment Willajean had made, he saved the ads as an idea swirled in his mind.

Luke vowed to corner Dad by the end of the day, but he’d forgotten it was pinochle night. Once again Dad headed out the door. Luke kicked the wall. Not once all weekend had Dad spent time with him. Dad knew he wanted to talk and was purposely avoiding him.

Fine, then
.
I’ll make my own decision
.

After a restless night, Luke ate his cereal. He read the help-wanted ads again. When his brothers came in, he tried to put the paper away, but Scott noticed the furtive movement and pounced.

“What’s this?” Scott yanked the paper from Luke. “Pooper Scooper is having delusions of grandeur. Thinks he’s qualified for another job.”

“I’m sure he could find employment as a port-a-potty cleaner or men’s room attendant,” Jacob said.

His appetite gone, Luke pushed away from the table. Grabbing his paper from Scott, he shot a sour look at Dad, who was engrossed in the morning newspaper.

Luke left without another word and biked hard to Willajean’s. With each push on the pedals, he debated. Left foot down, confront Alayna. Right foot down, ig-nore her. Left foot, tell Willajean the truth and be stuck with a bloodhound. Right foot, lie for now, but change Dad’s mind so it would be true later. Left. Right. Left. Right. The bike’s tires hummed on the asphalt.

Arriving at the kennel five minutes early, Luke sucked in a deep breath and smoothed the newspaper before going inside.

“Let’s hustle, Dog Boy, we don’t have all day,” Alayna said.