Strays by Ron Koertge

Author:Ron Koertge [Koertge, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780763662219
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2007-06-09T14:00:00+00:00

I’m on my way to school when I see Gus and his dog, Paperboy. They’re on the corner with the stoplight. Gus has a cup in one hand and a sign around his neck: HELP ME FEED MY DOG. Girls stop to pet Paperboy and usually drop a quarter or two into the soggy Starbucks cup.

I haven’t seen them for a couple of months. They used to camp up by the trailhead that leads to Mount Lowe, then panhandle Santa Mira for a while.

When I give Gus a dollar, he stares at me. He’s dirty, and with that beard he could be the ninth-place finisher in the Walt Whitman look-alike contest.

“Hey,” he says, “I know you.”

“Ted. From the pet shop.”

He points a grimy finger at me. “Dog Eat Dog World, right?”

“Close enough.”

“What’re you doing down here?”

“My folks are on vacation, so I’m staying with a friend.”

Gus holds out his cup as the students pile up waiting for the light.

“What really happened?” asks Paperboy.

“Car accident.”

“I remember your parents,” he says. “They treated you like a . . . well, you know.”

“I guess.”

“Did they leave you anything?”

“Not much.”

“That’s tough. What’s next for you now — Africa?”

I shake my head. “I have to finish school first.”

“So where are you staying?” the dog asks.

“With some people who take care of strays.”

“Like the pound?”

“Kind of.”

“Can you get adopted?”

“Probably not. I’m pretty old.”

“So then they put you to sleep.”

“I just age out. Then I’m on my own.”

He nods. “That’s cool. Excuse me.” Paperboy lays his ears back and growls as two or three boys in letterman’s jackets lunge at Gus and pretend to grab at his cup of small change.

Paperboy says, “I’d like to tear their throats out.”

“I know what you mean.”

“You could come with us, Teddy. We’re down by the L.A. River. It’s not bad. Ducks to chase. Place to sleep. Something new every day. Even the voices in Gus’s head are different.”

“I’m okay where I am for now.” I watch Gus rattle his cup. Two ninth-grade girls stop and pet Paperboy, who lets his big red tongue hang out. “Gus shares the money with you, doesn’t he?”

“Most of the time. We do okay. People think he ought to get a job, but with me along, they cut him some slack. He feeds me because I’m his meal ticket.”

Before I can say good-bye and head for school, Paperboy jumps up and puts his paws on my chest. I’m five four and a half and he’s a big dog — wiry-haired and barrel-chested. His muzzle is partly gray, his coat heavy and a little matted.

“Be careful,” he says.

“Well, sure. I’m just going to biology and English.”

“Don’t ‘Well, sure’ me, Teddy. There are lots of crows around. That’s never good.”

I put my nose to his. “I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“Who’s superstitious? I know what I know.”

On my way to Mr. Fowler’s class, I pass Valerie Wynne, Pamela Choi, and Robin Hollander, the power brokers of tenth grade. (Megan is in eleventh. Astin’s going to graduate.) Valerie, Pamela, and Robin are, as my art teacher used to say, at the center of the painting.

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