Buster, Caleb Huett [great novels .TXT] 📗

back, because he keeps trying to talk to Miles and Parker anyway. He tries to talk to everybody. He’s not loud, and he’s not super funny or anything. He’s just nice. He tries to talk to everyone about everything, but they’re all so weird about it.” He sighed. “Even me.”

Why?

“Because that’s why they tried to make fun of Sloan. Anyone who talks to him is a target, too.” And Tonio didn’t want them to pay attention to him.

What if Mia and Devon were friends? I asked.

The color drained out of Tonio’s face, because he knew what I was really saying. “No. No way. I can’t— What am I supposed to—”

It’s up to you. I nuzzled his hand to show that I was trying to say this gently. But their situations are both on the list of things we can try to change. Even if you’re moving, I think you still want them to feel better. Right?

He clenched and unclenched his fists, looked at his dog who could talk, and let out a long, pained whine. “It’s a good idea. I hate it.”

I just stared at him while he stood up and paced around the room. He really is like a puppy, I thought. Just a little.

“Fine, okay, fine.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at me. “What do you think we should do?”

After a few Underspeak lessons, Tonio’s insistence that we practice all the possible conversations with Mia (I have a pretty good impression of her now, I think, which y’all have heard all night), a good night’s sleep, and my repeated reminders that I could not talk to him in front of other dogs, we set out toward the Lin Shelter. It was raining pretty hard, so Tonio brought a big umbrella for us to walk under.

I kept asking myself if I was walking in a way that looked like I’d spoken to Tonio. I had my ears and nose on high alert for dogs—and Tonio, careful of my warning, didn’t try to talk to me.

Even combined, Tonio and I didn’t have much of a plan exactly. Our first (and only) step was to try to get Mia to go to the tournament—and hope that she got a chance to really talk to Devon and like him. We didn’t want to trick anybody, and I’d resolved to not make any more decisions for anybody else. I think now that maybe that’s one of the most important responsibilities of a friend: You want to make it as easy as possible for them to make good choices, but not choose for them. And help them remember the good parts of who they are when they forget.

“Ah!!! Excuse me! Help!” Someone ducked under our umbrella, bumping Tonio hard but catching his arm to steady him so he didn’t fall. “Sorry. It got bad so fast, and I just—” The kid grinned, showing off the gap between his front teeth. It was Devon. “Oh, hey, Antonio! Ring, ring, ring!”

The rain poured heavy onto the umbrella, tapping sounds so frequent there was no rhythm at all, just a big mess of noise. Tonio, overwhelmed by this sudden appearance, couldn’t get anything out other than a nod.

“Whatcha doing?” Devon asked. Thunder boomed, and all three of us jumped. Devon laughed. “The playground is right over there! C’mon!”

No chance for Tonio to protest. Devon tugged his arm and pulled him off the road, dodging around puddles and muddy spots that were already forming. “I’m not allowed to go home yet, so if I get wet, I’ll just be soggy all day!” Devon yelled over the rain while Tonio struggled to keep the umbrella over both of them. “Let’s go to the gazebo!”

He pointed to a round thing with a roof, like a little hut with a low fence instead of walls, and they ran past swings and slides to get there. The roof was wide enough that only rain pushed by the wind got in, so the benches inside were totally dry. Devon threw himself down on one, took up the whole thing by lying across it dramatically, and laughed again.

He had an easy giggle, like he was ready to laugh all the time and anything could make it bubble over. I finally got a chance to really take in what he looked like, too, now that we weren’t running away and I knew who he was. His skin was brown, and unlike Tonio’s loose curls left to grow however they wanted, his dark hair was shaved into a stylish fade with little curls on top, close to his scalp.

“Did you know this was called a ‘gazebo’? A wise old man, probably a wizard, taught me that last time I was here. He also gave me a sword and told me I was destined to be a great warrior who would protect the world from darkness.” At Tonio’s confused expression, he giggled again. “Just kidding. It was actually a four-year-old.” He shrugged. “She was pretty cool, but I was like, ‘How are you carrying such a big sword?’ ”

Devon kept watching him, expecting laughter, but Tonio just looked even more confused.

“I’m joking!!!!” Devon said.

“About which part?” Tonio asked.

“The word. This isn’t really called a gazebo.”

“Oh.”

“I’m joking again!!!” He sat up while Tonio folded his umbrella and leaned it against the rail. “A little kid taught me the word last week. She said, ‘Do you want to know the biggest word I know?’ and of course I said yes, and then she told me what this was called. I asked if she knew the word refrigerator, and she said yes, of course, but when I told her that was a bigger word than gazebo, she kicked me in the shin!”

Tonio, at a loss for words, looked down at me. It’s okay, I said. I’m here. Talk.

“You really can’t go home?” Every word was a battle with Tonio’s brain, the anxious part yelling run run run