Welcome to Dog Beach (20 page)

I wait for her to say something about Bennett. Maybe that he acts the same way around me. Or that she's overheard him talking to Calvin about me. Or anything, really. But she doesn't. The conversation ends there, and I'm not sure if we'll ever talk about it again. I'm not sure if I ever want to talk about it again.

The dogs are all thrilled to be at Dog Beach, and they're behaving themselves, so there's not much for me to do.
They're all playing happily. The boys are keeping some of them busy with a wild game of Frisbee. Potato Salad and Tabby are sunbathing together. They're the oldest dogs of the bunch and they love to lie around, but they love to lie around together. Whenever one's there without the other, they just roam around gloomily. Lester continues to be the social butterfly, spending a little time with each dog.

After all the dogs are settled, I decide to walk around the beach a little bit and check on them individually. I always focus on them as a group, but they're all a little like Rascal: They need their one-on-one time.

As I'm walking around, I notice that Mason Redmond isn't here. He's been here every single day this summer, and he never mentioned that he was going off-island or anything. I wonder if he's sick.

Claire and I are sitting on the bench mapping out a plan for the rest of the day. Most of the dog owners wanted a full day of care today, so we had to plan it all out. We collected bowls and plastic bags of food from all the owners this morning so everyone will have something to eat. Sometimes Tabby and Potato Salad like to nap after lunch, so they can just do that on the beach. Marilyn Monroe spends most of the day lounging anyway, and she's happy to be outside.

When it comes to Rascal, Atticus, and Oscar, they're happy as long as they're playing and they're fed. Lester just likes to keep busy. And Palm is being picked up at noon, so we didn't need to worry about his lunch.

“Ooh, your boyfriend is coming over.” I look up, expecting to see Mason, since Claire likes to make fun of the whole “let's go to Sundae Best together” thing, even though he only wanted to discuss the dogs. But it's Bennett walking over to us. I hope he didn't hear her say that.

“Weird that Mason's not here, right?” He looks at me. It's like he just read my mind. “Is it safe for the dogs to be swimming unsupervised?” He laughs and I do too, and then I feel bad for making fun of Mason. It's true that he's not really a dog lifeguard, but he takes his pretend job seriously.

“Maybe he's sick,” I say.

“Sickly in love with Remy!” Calvin yells, and then Bennett and Calvin high-five. Claire gives them a “come on” kind of look, and my face feels like it's resting on a campfire.

“Maybe that's why Micayla's so mad at you,” Bennett says. “You stole her man.”

“Ugh, my man? Seriously? And I didn't steal anyone.” I don't know how I manage to get the words out, but I do. “I need to go fill up Atticus's water bowl. He looks parched.”

I get up and walk away, but I hear them whispering behind me. I plan to take a very long time filling up Atticus's bowl. I should have brought all the dogs' bowls over and filled each of them one by one.

As I'm walking back, trying carefully not to spill all the water, I see Claire running over to me. Immediately I assume something is wrong with one of the dogs, and my heart starts pounding. Maybe we took on too many clients. Maybe
we weren't ready. Maybe Calvin doesn't take this seriously enough.

“What's wrong?” I ask.

“You're going to kill me.”

“What did you do to Marilyn Monroe's hair?” I ask. Claire has been threatening to style it in some wacky way, and I have forbidden her to do it.

“It's not that,” she says tentatively. “It's worse.”

“What did you do?” I ask, even though I already
know the answer. I see Bennett and Calvin out of the corner of my eye. Marilyn Monroe is sitting all alone on the bench, and I need to go over there but I'm scared to.

“I'm sorry. It's just they were saying that you loved Mason or that Mason loved you and it was so untrue, and I knew you were never going to admit your feelings to Bennett and I couldn't help myself. So
I
had to.” She's digging a hole in the sand with the toe of her sparkly flip-flop, and all I want right now is for that hole to be big enough for me to fit inside it.

“What do I do now?” I ask. I don't know if I will ever be able to talk to Bennett again. The secret is out and things will never go back to normal. I'm too afraid to ask what he said in response.

I expect Claire to have an answer. She seems like the
kind of girl who could write a guidebook to navigating life at eleven years old. It could be called
Claire's Guide to Cool
or something. She seems confident enough. She tried to get away with not playing tennis at tennis camp. She always says what she thinks.

Though I wish she hadn't said what she thought to Bennett just now.

“I don't know,” she says. “I'm sorry. But I think this is for the best.”

“Claire.” I grab her arm as she's walking away. “I can't go back over there. I'm scared.”

“Well, we have dogs to take care of, Remy.” She links her arm with mine. “Business is business, babe.”

That makes me laugh, and as soon as I'm laughing I can walk back over to them. But when we get to the bench, the giggling stops. Bennett looks at me. And I look at him. We look down at our feet. And no one says anything.

“Do you guys want to take the dogs over to Daisy's for some treats?” Bennett asks after the world's longest pause. “I think they need a change of scenery. We've been here all morning.”

“That never bothered them before,” I say, more defensively than I'd meant to.

“Well, our boys are bored,” Calvin says. He's calling them his boys? He's only been helping out for a few days. “We're gonna take Rascal, Lester, Atticus, and Oscar to Daisy's, and then we'll take them home later.”

I look at him, annoyed that he's making this decision.

“That's okay with you, Rem?” Bennett asks. He's smart enough to ask me that. It's my business, not Calvin's.

I nod. “Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

They gather the dogs' belongings and head out. I can't help but wonder if Claire's comment made them want to leave. And I can't tell if I'm sad that they're gone or sad that Calvin called those dogs his boys.

I feel cloudy again.

“Well, that wasn't good,” Claire says. Tabby, Potato Salad, and Marilyn Monroe are all sunbathing at our feet. It's going to be a very relaxed afternoon.

“What wasn't good?” I ask. I'm only half paying attention.

“The way you acted.” She looks at me, and when I don't turn to face her, she puts her hands on the sides of my face and literally turns my head. “If you like him, then just go with it. Don't act all weird and like you don't care. I mean, it's Bennett. You've known him your whole life. Just be who you are.”

“I don't know who I am,” I say. “It's all so confusing. One of my best friends isn't talking to me. And I think I'm in love with my other one.”

“Don't be so dramatic, Remy.” She rolls her eyes—something I haven't seen her do in at least a day. “Get out of your head for a few minutes and just be normal.”

I know Claire's trying to help, in her way, but this whole debacle has made me exhausted. I just need some quiet time.

The dogs are resting, and I want to rest too. I get up and pull over one of the Dog Beach lounge chairs. Thankfully, there isn't too much fur on it. I decide to lie down for a few minutes.

But I can't really relax. I won't close my eyes, because I need to pay attention to the dogs.

Tabby and Potato Salad get picked up early, and then it's just Claire, Marilyn Monroe, and me.

“Psst,” I say to Claire, who's dozing off on the bench.

“What?” she asks.

“I have an idea. Since it's just the three of us, let's do a special trip.” She uh-huhs me with her eyes closed. “Let's take her to Mornings.”

“What? No! That place is too fancy for dogs.” She opens her eyes and raises her eyebrows. “That lady Beverly seriously scares me, and no one scares me. Did you hear she wouldn't even allow her own cousin into the store because he wasn't dressed well enough?”

I glare at her. “She's really mean, but Mornings was Danish's favorite place,” I say. “He'd wait outside on their front porch, and I'd bring him a croissant. That's what we'll do. I figured out how to work the system and get around Beverly every time.”

“For real?”

“Totally. Just trust me.”

“All right, let's do it.” Claire smiles.

“You're gonna love this, Mari,” I whisper to her as we're
walking over. “It can be our special thing. I wouldn't take just any dog there, but you're different.”

She barks softly and wags her tail with her ears perked up. She's excited. She must know something's up.

When we get there, I tell Claire and Marilyn Monroe to wait on the side of the porch so Beverly won't see them. I'll go in and get some croissants and some fresh-squeezed orange juice and be right back.

We have the plan all figured out.

I walk inside and it's crowded, but not as crowded as it is in the morning. The place is called Mornings, so that does make sense.

“Hello, Remy,” Beverly says in a not-so-pleased-to-see-me tone. That's kind of how she is with everyone, but especially kids. I think she'd prefer it if Mornings was an adults-only place, but Seagate isn't like that. She's, like, the only mean person on the whole island, but her chocolate croissants are the best in the world. It doesn't make any sense.

“How are you, Beverly?” I ask, all polite, the way my parents taught me.

“Doing well, thanks.” She takes my order: I tell her two chocolate croissants and one plain (dogs shouldn't have chocolate), and two fresh-squeezed orange juices and a cup of water. It's all going according to plan, but she does seem to be moving more slowly than usual, and I start to worry. Marilyn Monroe isn't the most patient dog, and I'm pretty sure Claire is even less patient than she is.

Just as I'm digging through my pocket for some money, calculating the total in my head so I can be ready to pay as soon as Beverly comes back to the counter, I hear Claire's raised voice.

Oh no. Hopefully, she tied Marilyn Monroe outside carefully so she can't run away.

And then I hear barking. Marilyn Monroe's unmistakable, high-pitched barking. That bark means that she wants what she wants and she's going to get it and nothing can get in her way. Not even Mornings. Not even mean Beverly. I stand on my tiptoes to look out the window.

Uh-oh.

“Remy! Help!” Claire yells, reaching out for the leash in front of her, but it's too late. Marilyn Monroe is off and running, all around the restaurant, her sea-green hair bow bobbing up and down as she goes. Claire runs into the restaurant and grabs my hand. “She kept looking for you and sniffing around, and maybe she smelled the croissants? Or maybe she missed you. She just took off. Someone opened the door and she took that as her moment and she stormed in, ran through the door, and oh—” She makes a horrified face.

“What?”

“She's sitting on that woman's lap!”

We both look back and see Marilyn Monroe sitting on some fancy lady's lap. The woman doesn't look pleased.

“Remy!” Beverly is yelling now. “Get that dog out of here!”

“Sorry, Beverly. So sorry.”

“We do not allow dogs. How many times have I told you that? Think twice before coming back.”

I scoop Marilyn Monroe off the woman's lap and apologize a million times. But I don't realize that her right paw is stuck under the tablecloth, so when I lift her up, I get the whole tablecloth at the same time. Iced coffee spills everywhere. Water spreads all over the floor. Eggs end up in laps, pancakes fly in the air, and the beautiful variety croissant basket flops off the table and lands at an angry man's feet.

“Sorry. So sorry.”

Claire's just standing there, holding her head with one hand and grabbing my arm with the other. It feels like five hundred years pass before we make it outside. And when we're finally out there, I realize that the croissants we came to get are still on the counter. I guess we'll never get them now.

“Oh my goodness, that was the most horrible few minutes of my whole life,” Claire says. “That was so embarrassing.”

“We should tell Amber what happened, in case she tries to go there with Marilyn Monroe again.”

“Oh my God, Remy, no! It totally wasn't our fault, and it's over now anyway. Let's just take Marilyn Monroe home and forget about it.”

I'm speechless.

Claire goes on and on about how the place is dumb, and Beverly is too uptight, and why did we go there? And how it was the stupidest idea ever.