Legend of the Ghost Dog by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel Page B

cooled down?’ Wait, we’re calling it quits already? After one lousy burger? That’s so harsh!”
    â€œBoys stink,” I declared.
    â€œâ€˜Question three. You meet your dream guy at last, and he’s perfect in every way. Except for one. You have a dog, and he is allergic to them. Do you (a) try to find anotherhome for your dog, (b) work night and day vacuuming to keep the allergens to a minimum, or (c) break up with your dream guy?’”
    â€œBreak up with the dream guy,” we both said in unison.
    Quin slammed the book closed.
    â€œWhat a question, even. Who’s going to choose some guy over her dog? Seriously?”
    â€œI know,” I agreed. “If you farm your dog out just so you can have a boyfriend, you didn’t deserve the dog in the first place.”
    â€œExactly,” Quin declared. “I prefer most dogs to people, to be honest. Gatsby was all the best friend I needed.”
    â€œGatsby?” I asked.
    Quin’s face clouded. “Yeah. He was my dog — a German shepherd. He got loose last year, took off. He was hit by a car before we even knew he was missing.”
    Tears filled my eyes.
    â€œOh, Quin, I’m so, so sorry,” I said.
    She waved her hand in the air in a let’s-not-talk-about-it gesture.
    â€œAnyway, enough of this book,” she said, tossing it aside.
    â€œTotally,” I said. “Now … I mean, do you feel like doing something else? What would you normally be doing if you weren’t here?”
    I wanted to ask her a million questions about Shadow. How she knew he wasn’t just another dog, when he looked like one — when I could see him there, plain as day. But she had clammed up on the walk home, and I wanted to be careful. I was really getting to like Quin, and I didn’t want to blow it.
    â€œReading,” Quin said. “Hiking.”
    Only my two favorite things to do, in that order. I sat up and stared at her. She was lying on the bed with her feet propped up against the wall.
    â€œSeriously, Quin, you’re like … me. But in a different body. It’s a little freaky.”
    â€œI know — I’ve noticed it too,” Quin said. “I almost never meet anybody my age I can stand at all. How long are you staying in Alaska?”
    â€œTwo weeks — at least, that’s what our dad told the school to get permission to pull us out. In reality, though, it all depends on when he feels like he’s got enough done on the book. I suppose it’s possible we could end up leaving before that, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. He’s in this major writer’s-block place right now. He’s waiting for the lightning bolt of inspiration to hit him.”
    Quin began to peel one of her socks off using her other foot as leverage.
    â€œDoesn’t sound so bad, if you don’t mind total unpredictability,” Quin said. “Where do you actually live, anyway?”
    â€œAt the moment? Woodstock, in upstate New York. Before that, Vermont. And before that, Cape Cod. My mom is a lawyer, and companies hire her for specific jobs, so she doesn’t have to live near some main office. This past year she’s been traveling a ton. And Dad’s obsessed with finding the perfect writers’ town.”
    Quin started in on removing her other sock.
    â€œMy parents split,” she said. “Six years ago. My mom hated living here, hated everything about Alaska. Finally ditched Nome, and us along with it, for New York City.”
    â€œThat’s terrible,” I said.
    â€œI guess,” Quin replied quietly. “It’s better this way, just me and Dad. We understand each other.”
    We lay on the bed together in silence for a few moments, Quin examining her feet. I could tell she didn’t want to talk about her parents, and I couldn’t leave the other question unasked any longer.
    â€œQuin, how did you know