Welcome to Dog Beach (8 page)

Bennett starts telling the story of how he found Oscar but stops himself when he notices the stroller.

Then all three of us are just standing there in silence, but our smiles are speaking louder than our voices ever could. It's like that whole “a picture is worth a thousand words” thing, except it's not a picture, it's the real thing.

The lady puts a finger to her lips in the universal
shh
sign and motions for us to follow her inside. She leaves the jumbo stroller out on the porch. If that's not a sign that Seagate is the safest place in the whole world, I don't know what is.

Oscar runs inside like it's the happiest day of his life, and we follow behind. Inside on the couch we find a sleeping man. I'm guessing he's the father of the babies. The TV is still on, and he's holding the remote as if he's about to change the channel, but he's totally asleep.

It's the kind of funny picture you'd see posted online for everyone to email to their friends, only I don't think I should be the one to take it.

The lady exhales and fills Oscar's water bowl, and he runs over.

“We gave him water,” I say. “Don't worry.”

“I'm not worried.” She grins at us. “I'm just so grateful that you found him. Please sit down. Can I get you a drink? Please tell me how you found him.”

Bennett starts the story again. “I was waiting for my brother at his swim lesson, and then I saw Oscar roaming around. I recognized him from the picture and also because there aren't many dogs on Seagate with brown fur everywhere except their stomachs and their paws.” Oscar walks
over to us, and Bennett starts petting him. Then Oscar sits on the floor between us and we're both petting him. He has soft fur—wiry and silky—and it seems to fall out all over the place. His owner must spend all day vacuuming.

“So I checked his collar,” Bennett continues, “and it was definitely him. I had to stop at Remy's first, though, because Remy was the one who really started everyone on this mission to find your dog.”

The lady raises her eyebrows. “You're Remy?” she asks.

I nod.

“Wow. You are one special girl,” the lady says. “And let me just say that Oscar doesn't respond this way to just everyone. He seems to really like you guys.”

“Thanks. He's an awesome dog.” I smile. “This is Bennett. Did we already say that?”

I crack up and realize that I'm feeling kind of nervous all of a sudden, though I don't know why.

“I'm Dawn Ramirez,” she says. “The exhausted, sleeping man on the couch is my husband, Mateo. And Oscar is my first baby. I don't even know how he got out. Maybe he's feeling neglected. We have triplets—you probably noticed.” She laughs and then takes a deep breath. “And it's pretty crazy. All I can say is, thank you guys so, so much for finding him.”

“You're welcome,” I say. “It was all Bennett.”

“It was pretty much all Remy,” he says, hitting me gently on the arm. “If you didn't mention it, I wouldn't have paid attention.”

“Well, I'm giving you both the reward,” she says. She leaves the room for a minute and then comes back with two envelopes. One for Bennett and one for me.

She sits down at the table and asks us if we want ice cream. While she's dishing it out into bowls from the to-go containers from Sundae Best, we hear screaming. Really loud baby screaming. It's coming in surprisingly clear, since they're out on the front porch.

Then Bennett points to a flashing gray walkie-talkie-like device. I'm guessing it's some kind of baby monitor, and I understand why Dawn was so comfortable leaving the triplets sleeping outside.

“They sleep best out there,” she explains. “I'm going to give it a second and see if she falls asleep.”

“You can tell which one is crying just by listening?” I ask.

She nods. “That was Mia. The other two are boys, Felipe and Alexander. Mia's cry is distinct, and she cries the most.” Dawn puts her head down on the table and stares at the monitor. Bennett and I eat our ice cream quietly and quickly. I think we're both getting the feeling that it's almost time to go.

“Listen, I'm going to ask you something,” Dawn says. “You can totally say no. I'm sure you're busy and everything. But Oscar really responded well to you. And as you can probably tell, I'm in over my head with these babies. Would you be interested in watching him? Like a dog sitter? Walks, trips to Dog Beach, stuff like that? We'd pay you and everything, of course.”

Bennett and I look at each other. I think he's talking with his eyes, the way we used to do when we were little, but I can't be sure. The summer we were seven, Bennett and I made up this intricate blinking code, so that we would always be able to communicate, even when other people were around. Micayla tried to learn it too, but it was really just a thing between Bennett and me.

I can't wait any longer to figure out if Bennett wants to do this or not. If Calvin and Claire were here, he might say no. But they're away, and so Bennett's my friend again, the way he used to be.

“I'd love to,” I say. “Dogs are my favorite animal, and we spend a lot of time at Dog Beach, anyway.”

“Oh, you have a dog?” Dawn asks.

Now Bennett is blinking a little too much, and I know he's speaking with his eyes; that was our code for danger, which ultimately became our code for when people asked us awkward questions, like if we were going to get married someday, or when we'd eat dinner over at Mrs. Shanley's house and she'd try to serve us mushy cauliflower.

“I used to,” I tell Dawn. “He died this past year.”

She nods. “Are you guys brother and sister?”

Bennett and I widen our eyes—the signal for shock, which is probably not a very good secret code, but we never came up with anything better.

“No,” Bennett says, laughing a little. “We're just friends.”

Brother and sister? We look nothing alike. Bennett has
floppy brown hair that usually falls into his eyes until his mom bribes him to get a haircut. My hair is somewhere between blonde and brown. Plus, Bennett's, like, three inches taller than I am.

I don't know why that question bothers me.

I hate it when people ask us if we're in love or if we're going to get married. We're only eleven and it's a dumb question. But now I'm annoyed that Dawn asked us if we're brother and sister.

Something in the way Bennett says “We're just friends” makes me upset. It's true. We are just friends. But not like any pair of friends you'd find in a school or on a soccer team or something. We're different. We're lifelong Seagate friends. Best friends, even.

All our lives Bennett told everyone that I was his best friend. I have two best friends—Bennett and Micayla—but as far as I knew, I was Bennett's only best friend. And I liked it that way.

I wonder why he didn't say it just now.

I wonder if things changed and I didn't even notice.

“I'm sorry about your dog,” Dawn says, and I remember that's what we were talking about before I got distracted about me and Bennett. “It's really hard to lose a dog. I've been through it a few times, and it never gets easier.”

“Yeah, that's what people say,” I mumble. I want to finalize the arrangements for watching Oscar and then I want to go home. It suddenly feels awkward being in this kitchen, and
even though there's still a spoonful of ice cream left, I don't really feel like eating it.

“Well, why don't you take a day to think it over? And if you're interested in dog-sitting for Oscar, come by tomorrow. I usually take the babies out for a morning walk, but we're never too far.” She smiles. “That's the beauty of Seagate, right?”

“Yup!” I stand up and put my bowl in the sink, and Bennett follows me. “I'm a mother's helper right now for Amber Seasons on Monday and Wednesday mornings, but I'm free the other days.”

“Okay. Well, we'd work around your schedule, of course. Thank you guys so much again,” Dawn says as she's walking us to the door. “If I wasn't so tired, I'd sound more excited, but please know how absolutely, completely grateful I am.”

We leave Dawn's house, and the triplets are now sleeping peacefully in their gigantic stroller. I wonder how long they sleep outside, or if they ever move into their cribs. They can't possibly sleep out here all night; it gets chilly.

Bennett's house is closer to Dawn's than to mine, but he walks me home anyway. He says his dad always tells him that it's safer for boys to walk alone than it is for girls. On Seagate, though, it's safe for anyone to walk alone. But I don't argue, because I like his company. Even right now, when we're not really talking, it's just nice to walk together. And the nicest thing about being best friends is that you can walk in complete silence and not feel weird about it.
Sometimes you just don't have anything to say, and that's okay.

It's quiet for so long that I'm startled when Bennett asks, “Wasn't it weird that she thought we were brother and sister?”

I'm surprised he's thinking about it too, but in a way I'm glad I'm not the only one who still is.

“Yeah,” I say. “Are they new here? I don't think I've seen them before. Or maybe I just don't recognize her now that she has the babies.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, maybe Dawn and her husband were the kind of couple who were always going out to eat late at night and staying in their cabana by the beach and weren't really out and about. And they're completely different people now with the triplets.”

“Oh. Yeah. That could be.”

After I say it, I realize that every change in life—big or small—can change you as a person. The way having babies changed Dawn and Amber. I wonder how I've changed since Danish died. I know I've changed, but I wonder how exactly, and if everyone can tell.

All this change can be frustrating if things are good and all you want is for them to stay the same. That's part of the beauty of hanging out with dogs: They're pretty predictable. They like to eat and go out for walks and have belly rubs. And they'll always be there to greet you and welcome you home.

When we get to my house, Bennett tells me he'll see me in the morning. He'll come by and then we'll walk to Micayla's, and we'll all bring Asher over to day camp. We used to go to Seagate day camp, and it was fun, but now we're old enough to entertain ourselves. And that's even better.

At home, it's probably annoying for Bennett to help out with Asher so much. But here he doesn't seem to mind it. Everyone wants to be walking around on Seagate anyway, because there are so many people out and about, and you don't have to worry about cars, and no one is in a hurry. Plus, Bennett doesn't have to take Asher everywhere by himself; he has Micayla and me to go with him.

It doesn't really matter what we do together—we always have fun.

One time we spent a whole afternoon throwing pebbles across the walkway to the beach. It was a rainy day, so no one was really walking there, and we made up this whole game, seeing how far the pebbles could go. Most people would have probably thought it was really dumb, but we loved it.

That's just the kind of friends we are.

I don't really need a day to think about Dawn's job
offer. Of course I am going to watch Oscar. We bonded immediately. I have Marilyn Monroe, and she's great, but it's kind of like the saying that you can never have too many friends. You can never have too many dog friends either!

Plus, I feel a little bit bad for Oscar. He was Dawn's first baby (she even said it herself), and now she doesn't really have time for him. I wonder how often dogs are replaced by babies. It makes sense, I guess, but it must be really hard for the dog.

There should be some kind of doggie support group where they could go and bark as loud and as often as they need to and get out their frustrations. Maybe Oscar ran away because he needed attention and wasn't getting it.

Poor guy. I want to help him.

My Oscar-watching time might cut into my Micayla and Bennett time, but I'm sure we can work it out. We've navigated the two mornings I'm with Marilyn Monroe, and we can navigate this too.

I daydream a perfect schedule while I eat my Froot Loops on the front porch and wait for Bennett and Micayla to get here.

My parents are at the Seagate Art Festival today. It starts at ten, but they got special passes for the early exhibit that started at eight. I don't think anything is worth getting up at eight in the morning, but they do. I'm just glad they didn't make me go with them.

They are making me meet them there later, to see the special exhibit on Minnie Lions, an artist who spent her whole life on Seagate, photographing everyday objects. My parents are obsessed with her work, and I'm a fan too.

I'm excited to see it, just not so early in the morning.

In my perfect schedule, I would watch Oscar in the mornings, bring him back to his home, and then maybe watch him again in the afternoons. That way I can spend the middle chunk of the day with my friends. That's when we go swimming or surfing or just relax on the beach.