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answered. Nobody even peeked through their curtains. Nobody cared.
    “We can’t just leave him here,” he said. “He could get run over or something.”
    Or he could do the running over.
    Ty continued. “One of us needs to take him to the pound or something. But I can’t take him, we’re renting,” he said. I didn’t know what that had to do with anything. “And my mom’s out until late tonight so I have no way of getting him to the pound. I borrow her car. My boy Archie has a car, but he’s working tonight.”
    “Oh,” I said. He looked at me expectantly. Oh no. “Well I’m not taking him!” I pointed at the dog with an accusing finger. “Did you see what he was doing to my legs?”
     
    We walked back to my place. Ty held the dog on the lead on one side of him and I walked beside them on the other, trying to match his stride. He had long legs so walked quite fast, and I trotted a little to keep up but then ended up a stride ahead of him so I slowed down and was behind him again. When I finally fell into step beside him, I completely forgot what to do with my arms as I walked. They felt so stupid swinging wildly back and forth. I was starting to come across like a soldier on parade. How come he just seemed to know what to do with his hands when he walked? I used to know. I gripped the straps of my backpack nice and casually, hoping he couldn’t tell my fingers were clenched around it like in a death grip. This was humiliating.
    I could hear The Pest before I could even see him. When we neared the house I rubbed my eyes, assuming I was hallucinating because I saw Rory and his pervy mates in the street on skateboards and BMXs. Since when did they participate in activities that weren’t TV related? What was all this sunlight going to do to their pasty, Vitamin D-deprived skin? Actually they didn’t have pasty skin. In all honesty they all looked quite healthy and probably had a multitude of interests that didn’t include game controllers or a computer screen. Except for The Pest. He actually was pasty and Vitamin D-deprived and only cared about the next simulated blood spurt or car crash or whatever else he played. He was going to grow up to be an extraordinarily worrisome young man. Or a game designer. Or both.
    “Hey, cool!” The Pest yelled, slowing his skateboard to a stop. “Whose dog?”
    “We don’t know, he’s lost.” I said. The dog stood happily next to Ty, wagging his shaggy tail and panting gently. The dog looked around at everyone as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
    “Urgh, he stinks!” Rory said. “Do you think we can keep him?”
    “No!”
    Ty laughed. “I guess this is your place then?”
    “Unfortunately,” I muttered.
    “Hi Poppy.” Dorkus waved at me from his bike. I grimaced.
    “You’re a good boy,” Rory was on his knees, patting the dog roughly on his head. The dog lay down and rolled onto his back, kicking his long legs with ecstasy as Rory rubbed his belly.
    “I better go,” Ty said, and held the twine out to me. I looked at it. I sure as hell wasn’t taking it.
    “Why do you have twine in your bag, anyway?” I said.
    He shrugged, took my hand and placed the twine in my palm. His hand was big and warm, and a little rough. His fingers were callused. He closed my hand over the twine and said: “Always good to be prepared.”
    His pocket played a guitar solo and he fished out his cell phone. “Hello? Yeah. You’re there already?”
    I wondered if it was his girlfriend.
    “I’m coming. Dude, chill. I’m nearly there.”
    Probably wasn’t.
    “Yeah, alright. Bye.” He gave the dog a pat on his belly. “Is this okay?” Ty said to me. “Leaving the dog, I mean. I know you don’t want him.”
    “We can have him!” Rory said.
    I ignored him. “Are you sure you can’t take him? I mean he attacked me once already.”
    “I know,” Ty said, backing away as if he was in a hurry. Or retreating before I convinced him to take the dog. Chicken. “I