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little cold standing still, even with my hoodie on. I stick my hands in my pockets.
    The dog trots back up the pier. I’ve never had so many questions for something that can’t answer me. Where does he live? Is he a stray? He looks pretty well cared for and well-fed. Does he have nice owners who are looking for him right now? How is he going to find his way home?
    We walk back up the hill, sort of in the direction of my house. My watch says 1:52. This dog must have super strength and never need to sleep. He walks with his tail flagging the air, and even though he’s got almost no pee left, he still lifts his leg and lets a tiny dribble come out.
    â€œWhere to now?” I ask. I’m not ready to go home, but a place to sit and rest would be nice. And I could handle a sandwich or something. My stomach growls.
    I sit on some steps leading to an apartment building.
    A car drives by with really loud rap blaring and someone yells out of the window at us. A hoarse voice carries through the air above the thumping bass: “Hey, kid — does your mommy know you’re not in bed?” It has the opposite effect on J than it would on me. J yells back, “Does your mother know you’re a pathetic loser?” I yell even after they’ve turned the corner. It feels so good to fill my lungs with breath and spit out words like that.
    The dog stops scratching his ear and looks at me. His eyes are orangey brown in the streetlight.
    â€œThat’s how it’s done,” I say to him. “See that? No more boring, invisible Jakob!”
    â€œHey!”
    I jump up.
    Someone’s leaning out of an apartment window. A manwith no shirt on. “Keep it down, kid. Go home and act crazy there.”
    I take a step to leave, but J comes roaring back. “It’s a free world!” I yell.
    He holds out his phone. “Oh yeah? There’s cops around here who’ll tell you different. Want me to call them?”
    â€œUh, no thanks!” I say, and sprint up the street, the dog at my heels. I think we both got a kick out of that.
    I can’t believe J just did that — and got away with it. I feel light, lighter than air. I never want to go home.
    The dog takes a left onto Sixth Street and sniffs around in the bushes. He comes out chomping something, probably garbage from someone’s patio, but it reminds me that I’m starving.
    I head down the street in the direction of my house, and the dog comes too, but after a block he wants to cross the street.
    â€œI’m this way,” I say, pointing. “I’m going to grab some food. You know food? Treats?”
    His ears prick up. He knows treats.
    I have to be careful around our house. Even though it’s two in the morning, anyone could be looking out their windows. If it was me, I’d keep the dog away, go home and call it a lucky, awesome night, but J pushes the gate open and lets the dog into the backyard. The dog bounds around the dry grass, his tail flying, and I grab him in case Soleil’s awake.
    I start for the stairs. The dog sees where I’m going and tries to get up there first, but I hold him by the shoulders. He’s got a lot of muscle under that coat. Reminds me that he’s an animal, a wolf cousin. And I don’t know him that well. He looks up at me.
    â€œYour claws will make too much noise on the floor,” I whisper. “You can’t come in — someone might hear you.”
    I look around for something to tie him up with. Since he’s not wearing a collar, I’ll need something pretty long. In a bucket under the deck, I find the rope Aunt Laura uses as a laundry line. I tie it around his neck and then around the railing of the stairs. He pulls a little but it holds.
    â€œStay there for a minute. I’ll be back.” I tiptoe up the stairs and unlock the door. The dog looks up at me with his fuzzy triangle ears pointing to the sky. He stays.
    Inside I grab a