Buster, Caleb Huett [great novels .TXT] 📗

“Actually, Speaker, I believe it does. Your Honor, he’s trying to hide the details from us, because he knows they matter.”

“WAS SHE, LIKE, A SPY? OR SOME KIND OF ROCK STAR?”

“Sadie,” Pronto chided, “you’re not supposed to yell in court.”

“I’M NOT YELLING. I’M ASKING A QUESTION!”

“Thank you for your input, Speaker.” The judge nodded at Pronto but made no expression of her opinion. “Buster, you may continue.”

A deep breath. A nod. “Well, Your Honor, Tonio had made a friend. I wish I could say that fixed it all, but …” Buster closed his eyes and tried to push back the hurt that came from thinking through these memories. “I messed up.”

Tonio came home exhausted. He returned his box of cards to its precarious position at the top of the stack and fell into his desk chair with a heavy thwump.

I thought he’d be happy. He’d spent the whole day with someone who might be a friend! But he didn’t seem excited. He just looked totally worn out. Not the good kind of tired, like when you just want to spin around in three circles and lie down anywhere, but the kind where I was pretty sure he was thinking about something too hard.

Oh, right, I thought. He hasn’t even had time to think about what his mom said about moving yet. Today was a long day.

After about half an hour of drawing, Tonio got up and walked back downstairs to turn off the movie his parents had fallen asleep watching. A nudge got them to stumble over to their bedroom, and on the way, Mrs. Pulaski pointed at the fridge. A magnet held a folded piece of paper and a sticky note in her handwriting that said Tonio—Devin Wilkins (I think?) came by while you were gone. Left this for you.

That set his heart pounding immediately. The folded paper dangled from his fingertips like a tissue someone else had sneezed in. Back in his room, he carefully unfolded it on his desk. I couldn’t see what was on it from my four-legged spot on the carpet, but whatever it was definitely didn’t improve his mood. He threw it away, then threw himself onto the bed. I hopped up to curl against his side.

His eyes drilled a hole in the wall, and I imagined him repeating that memory of yearbook signing over and over in his mind. After several minutes of staring, he rolled over to look at me, face clenched in focus. “I was fine, at school, until him,” he said.

Talking was a challenge. He was trying, hard, to do what Dr. Jake had said to do—talk to me. Use me as a sounding board. I locked my eyes on him and tried to look encouraging. He continued. “I think it was okay because nothing ever changed. All my classes had pretty much the same kids. I knew the teachers because my parents know everybody.” He rubbed at his eyes.

“And then Devon showed up last summer, and Sloan left over Christmas, and it was like …” He held his hands out in front of him, trying to form a picture in his mind. “Like opening a book I’d read a million times, but starting it and finding out everything was different.”

I wished Tonio would talk like this to Dr. Jake. I was sure the doctor would have something interesting to say about it, or some way to help Tonio understand how he was feeling. All I could do was sit and listen.

“Miles and Parker weren’t even mean before! They were kind of loud, but they weren’t bullies until Devon moved in. And it was like that one thing changed everything. I didn’t know how to talk to anybody anymore. What if they paid attention and noticed that I’m not … that I’m …” He shook his head and swallowed the thought.

“I know it’s not Devon’s fault. But I can’t talk to him unless I tell him the truth. And if I tell him the truth now, he’ll see that nobody tried to help him, especially not me!” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes again. “He’ll have to go back to school knowing that he can’t trust anybody. He’ll hate me.”

If that were me, I thought, I’d want to know. Tonio’s anxiety was trying to convince him that he could read Devon’s mind, that the bullies’ actions were his responsibility, AND that he could tell the future.

Tonio sighed. “Maybe we should just move.” I rested my muzzle on his side and huffed, because I couldn’t do anything else. He reached up to scratch me around my collar, but I barely even leaned into it. “Thanks for listening, Buster.”

But I’m not helping! I wanted to yell. I kept thinking about this while Tonio got ready for bed, then fell asleep. Once I heard his breathing settle into a sleeping rhythm, I gently rolled off the bed and made my way over to the trash can.

Devon’s paper was a flyer for a Beamblade tournament at Roll the Ice. Standard Rules, Ancient Cards Allowed, Three-Hundred-Dollar Prize! it yelled with garish 3D text. LEGENDARY Battles! AWESOME Refreshments! EPIC Inclusive Environment for All Ages and Skill Levels! GOTTA BLADE!

At the bottom was a sticky note covered in cute, bubbly handwriting:

Hiya, Tonio! I hope you’re feeling better—Skyler said you got sick or something because of the ice cream. I hope it’s the ice cream, and not looking at my face! (ha, ha.) (but if it is looking at my face you’d let me know, right?) Anyway I wanted since you left and didn’t get to play Beabl Beamblade with us, I thought you might want to come to this instead. Maybe if you feel better? I hope you can read this, I wrote too big at the beginning and now I’m not even sure I can read these tiny letters. –DW

There was an arrow pointing to the back. I unstuck the