Buster, Caleb Huett [great novels .TXT] 📗

Each of the little rectangles in the box was a hand-drawn version of a Beamblade card, with all the information printed on the bottom in Tonio’s neat handwriting, and pictures of mechanical dragons and cyborg wizards at the top.

“I always wanted a pet.” I nearly jumped—I didn’t know he’d even noticed me come over. Tonio’s pencil scratched against the paper. “I wanted a cat, really. But I also said I’d be okay with a dog. Just not as much. Sorry.” I resisted a shiver.

Apology accepted, I thought. But let’s not talk about cats.

“And my parents always said no.” He pushed his curls away from his eyes—and they immediately fell back into place. “Oh, yikes. I need to start over.” He crumpled up the card he was working on—Klakzon the Noisemage, DJ of the future—and threw it into a trash can. His pencil quickly started flying across a new blank card he pulled from the box. I moved to the window so he wouldn’t think I was paying too close attention for a Good Dog.

“I think Mom and Dad only said yes to having a pet because I had a panic attack at the science fair. And again while I was helping at Dad’s store. And then I threw up during yearbook signing.” Tonio’s eyes popped up to watch me for a second, then went back to drawing. “And now I have you, because they think you’ll make me better. This one’s bad, too.” He ripped the card in half and threw it out, but didn’t start again right away. He stared at the page and told me, “Everyone at school saw me throw up, which means everyone in Bellville saw me. I couldn’t think of what to write in Devon Wilcrest’s yearbook, which isn’t even a big deal, and I should have just written Have a great summer or something, but I was thinking about how the only thing I knew about him was that Miles and Parker always made fun of him when he wasn’t in the room because he was the new kid.” He picked up his pencil and started drawing again. “I had never even actually talked to Devon before, but now, when I had the chance to write something I knew he would read, I thought that if I didn’t say something nice to him, or at least tell him what they were doing, then I was just as bad as Miles and Parker. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I couldn’t write anything, and my stomach was flipping, and I couldn’t breathe, and I threw up on his yearbook. And on him.”

Tonio looked exhausted—once he started remembering, his mind must have been looping through the feelings all over again. It fell out of him like he wasn’t telling it on purpose—it was more like he had to get it out of his body.

“I said I didn’t want to go back to school after this summer, and Dr. Jake said to try getting you first, and that over time I might change my mind.” He paused again to look at me, then erased a line of his sketch. “I can always tell that Mom and Dad are embarrassed when I start feeling bad in front of people, and Dr. Jake pretends like I’m doing fine, but I know he wishes I was better.” Tonio’s scribbling slowed down.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, too. I need to take care of you.” He held up the picture and showed the beginning sketch of Klakzon to me. (His Time-Traveling Turntables looked great.) I sniffed at the drawing to get a close look, and Tonio laughed. “You like it? Good boy.”

“TO-NI-OOOO!” his father’s voice boomed from downstairs. He didn’t just yell Tonio’s name, he sang it like an opera singer would. Tonio gave me a look.

“My dad’s a dork.”

“IT IS TIIIIIME FOR YOUR APP-OOOOINT-A-MENT!”

Tonio set down his pencil and jumped up. “I forgot it was Wednesday!” He grabbed my blue harness, labeled Service Dog, and I stepped into it. “You get to meet Dr. Jake!”

I loved Dr. Jake. Dr. Jake was the best … and I’m not just saying that because he had a jar full of treats ready when we showed up for Tonio’s therapy appointment.

Okay, all right, you caught me, I am saying that exactly because he had a jar of treats ready when we showed up for Tonio’s therapy appointment. First impressions are important!

Dr. Jake was tall and thin, like he was made out of good throwing sticks. He shot us a big, kind smile and asked permission as soon as we walked through the door to give me some very good scratches. We sat in two beanbag chairs—a big blue one for Tonio and a small red one for me—and he folded onto a short stool. While he spoke to Tonio, he tossed me a chewy ball to gnaw on. I liked having something to do while I listened.

“Tonio! Ring, ring! I see everything worked out at the center—how are you and Buster getting along?”

“Ring, ring, Dr. Jake. Really good!” Tonio glanced over at me. I chewed on the ball. “He’s a good dog, and really smart. Sometimes it even feels like he’s a person. Like he’s listening.” No, c’mon! I’m just a dog! A frown flashed across his face. “Maybe that’s a dumb thing to say, though.” You also aren’t dumb! I felt bad for pretending, but I shouldn’t have acted the way I did when we first met, either. I was conflicted.

Dr. Jake watched Tonio seriously. “I don’t think that’s dumb. One of the best parts of having a dog around—even one who isn’t trained like Buster—is that feeling of having a friend. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed talking to him. I bet he’s a good listener.”

“Yeah! That makes sense. I think I like it, but we only just got to take him home this morning, so I don’t really know yet.” There was something different in the way Tonio