Buster, Caleb Huett [great novels .TXT] 📗

back to the shelter if she knows you’re smart. And maybe we won’t have to—”

My hackles rose and I bared my teeth. No! I grabbed the marker again and wrote one word: SECRET.

“Then why’d you tell me? I’m horrible at secrets. She’s going to—”

“Antonio! Come on!”

Tonio stuck the cap on the marker and I pointed to the word again. SECRET!

“We’ll talk about this more later.” He picked up my harness and leash, then looked at me. “Do I … ? Should I still … ?”

I patted my feet on the ground impatiently. Yes!

He slid the harness on and clipped the leash to it. “Is that okay? Is it too tight or anything, or … ?”

I answered by pawing at the door. Tonio needed to go to therapy, and to be honest, I was feeling anxious myself—no human had paid this much attention to me before, or expected me to answer questions and have opinions. Plus, all the dangers of my decision were starting to sink in: I had just given a very dangerous secret to someone I knew hated lying, and who was easily distressed.

The best I could hope for was some time to help Tonio with the things I couldn’t before: I could be a real friend, could help him face his fears, and could maybe get him on track to have a better life … if I wasn’t caught first.

The crowd exploded when Buster paused—loud enough that Pronto didn’t jump in to say anything. Everyone in the court had been surprised by Buster’s direct accusation, which was an obvious insult to the judge. Dog Court didn’t want any of us to do anything. Some were angry; some were considering the truth in his words. Dogs in both groups had seen their humans through hard times and chosen not to help them.

“Why should his humans get help, but not mine?”

“THAT STORY MADE ME SAD!!”

“He’s right. If I had been there for her … maybe things would have been different.”

“NO ONE TOLD ME THIS WAS A SAD STORY.”

“They can help themselves. What’s a human ever done for me?”

“IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER IF SLOAN COULD DO MAGIC OR SOMETHING.”

When the noise began to die down, Lasagna jumped in. “Thank you, Buster, for explaining how you got to this point. I am sure the Speaker for the Law will be ready with his counterarguments, his fury, his demands for Buster’s guilty verdict to come right away!” The corgi’s tail couldn’t help but wag—he was excited, which made Buster feel a lot better. At least one of us is, he thought.

Lasagna continued. “But I’ll save Pronto the breath and the time, because the story doesn’t end here. Buster broke the law, but the effect, the change that came about for these kids, must be taken into account. Otherwise, how do we know whether his choice was worthwhile?” Lasagna jerked his nose toward the crowd but kept his eyes on the judge. “And I have a feeling they want to hear, too.”

“Do they?” Judge Sweetie asked. She ran one claw lightly along the hood of the bumper car.

“Our society has no place for Bad Dogs!” Pronto tried to maintain his confident demeanor, but the cracks were starting to show. “Buster has told his story and confessed to his crime. If you let him continue, you’re not putting him on trial anymore—you’re putting all of Dog Law on trial. I cannot stand for that.”

The judge regarded him coolly. “Well then, I suppose, Pronto, that you will have to sit.”

Pronto’s jaw dropped in surprise. Buster’s ears twitched with just the tiniest bit of delight. Maybe I like this judge, he thought. And maybe we have a chance.

Sweetie looked back to Lasagna. “As a judge of the Court, the case is clear. Buster has violated the law, and I have no choice but to recommend he be sent to The Farm.” Well, never mind. I don’t have a chance. “However, as this is the first case of direct human communication I’ve seen in many years, I’ll admit that I’m curious.” She crossed her paws, one over the other, and bobbed her head, as if agreeing with herself. “Continue.”

Under the warm lamplight of Dr. Jake’s office, with colorful toys for humans (and a few for me) scattered around and the smell of books permeating everything, I decided not to worry about what could happen. How was I supposed to help Tonio if I was spending all my time worried about myself?

“Uh, my last week has been, well—” Tonio chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Pretty good.”

I lifted my head and looked directly at Tonio. He looked at me with a startled face, like he’d remembered all over again that I was listening.

“Last time you were here”—Dr. Jake folded his long legs over each other—“you were deciding whether or not to speak up about something. What did you decide?”

I watched Tonio’s face remember that session and try to think of a simple answer for everything that came after. “I didn’t say anything,” he answered. “And I think that was the right choice.”

“And how have you been feeling this week? Any big news? Positive or negative changes?”

“Not really,” Tonio lied. “Just a long week.”

“Your parents contacted me, asking for recommendations for therapy in the city.” Dr. Jake was prompting Tonio, giving him something to talk about. “They said they’d talked to you about the possibility of moving away from Bellville.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess that did happen.” Tonio tugged at one of his curls. “It’s not a big deal, though. I’ll be okay.”

“That’s a really big change! I think anyone would be nervous to move to a totally different place.” Dr. Jake was doing a really great job not looking frustrated, but I was starting to get used to him. I could feel the shift in his mood. He knew Tonio was lying, or was at least pretty sure,