Free The Last Best Kiss by Claire LaZebnik Page B

sharply and furiously that I instantly cringe back. “Stop it!” I say. “Just stop it!” And since I’m shouting, anyway, I scream for Phoebe. Possibly a little hysterically.
    The dog crouches, ready to spring at me—at least I think she is—so I back up, my arms going up to shield my face, but before she can move, she’s suddenly pulled back. She turns her head, snapping furiously at whoever’s got her—which is Finn. He’s there , in the doorway, dragging the dog back, and while he’s wrestling her, he manages to get out a panted and urgent, “Are you okay?” and I say, “I’m fine.” He yells over his shoulder for Phoebe to help him control the dog, and she appears, shoving past the other kids who are piling up in the hallway to see what’s going on. She says, “Stop it, Rowley! Stop it now!” and the dog seems to respond at least a little bit to her name, because she stops snapping and just glares at everyone and especially at Finn, who’s desperately trying to keep hold of her without getting bitten. “Little help here, Phoebe?” he says urgently. She reaches down, and he transfers the collar to her with an audible sigh of relief, backing quickly away.
    He says to me again, “Are you okay?” and again I tell him I am.
    “Someone must have let it out,” Phoebe says. The dog ducks her head and pulls, straining against the collar, and Phoebe says, “Stop it, Rowley!” I have a feeling she says that a lot to this dog. “Who went into my parents’ room?”
    We all shake our heads.
    “She must have gotten out by herself,” Lucy says.
    “How? She can’t turn a knob. No opposable thumb.”
    “Maybe she bribed a guard,” Oscar says.
    “Come on,” Phoebe says to the dog. “You’re going back in. Stay away from my parents’ room, guys.” She drags the dog by her collar down the hallway.
    “You okay?” Lucy says to me.
    “Fine.” Now that I’m safe, I’m also embarrassed. “I’m sorry I screamed. It’s just—it kept blocking my way. And growling at me.”
    “That is one scary-ass dog,” says Eric sympathetically.
    “You should have seen Finn when you screamed,” Lily says. “He was out of the room before the rest of us even realized it wasn’t coming from the TV set. Total hero.” She takes his arm. “Come on, hero. I’ll buy you a drink.” He laughs and willingly follows her back down the hallway. The rest of us follow. I’m still clutching the Diet Coke bottle to my chest. In the family room, I pour myself a cup with shaking hands.
    A little while later, Lucy says she has to go home to work on an English paper, and I hitch a ride back to my house with her. Some nights you just want to have end.
    I try to get out of eating dinner at the Swan on Saturday night with my father, Lizzie, and Ginny Clay.
    I know. Poor me. Having to eat at one of the newest, fanciest restaurants in all of LA. But honestly I would rather eat at a fast-food place. The food at these gourmet places is never worth the pretension and the endless discussion about it.
    Dad says I have to come. “It’s Lizzie’s last night at home.”
    Lucy had told me I could use her as an excuse—that I could say she was having some sort of emotional crisis. (“Which I am, you know,” she said. “I’m freaking out about the SATs.” And, yes, even dealing with that sounded more pleasurable to me than this dinner.) So I try that, but Dad says, “Your friend will survive for four hours without you” and refuses to hear any more arguments. It’s fine when he wants to withdraw and ignore the demands of family, but when he decides we should be together, I don’t get a say.
    Dinner turns out to be just as delightful as I’d anticipated.
    The waitress has committed the horrible crime of not being super thin, and every time she stops by the table and leaves again, Lizzie murmurs something like, “She’s heading back to the kitchen. They’d better hide the bread.” Ginny Clay opens her big green eyes wide at