Free When Dad Came Back by Gary Soto

That's messed up. Dogfights is like evil.” He slapped Pablo's arm with the back of his hand. “Huh, dude?” He took the snout of one dog into his grip and shook it. He then scratched goo from the corners of its eyes. He wiped it on his pants. “These guys love me. They would die for me.”
    â€œYeah, they seem loyal,” Gabe responded weakly. Lupe ruffled the scruff of the biggest dog. “This dog is named Pretty.”
    Gabe thought the dog had one ugly mug, but he kept his mouth shut tight.
    â€œThis one here is Brownie, and this one is Tiger.” After the introductions, Lupe became sullen. He cracked his knuckles and snarled under his breath, “That Tony—he's a punk. So he took my pup?” He stepped within inches of Gabe. “You know what?”
    Gabe remained still. His upper lip had grown another mustache of sweat.
    â€œI want you to get the dog from Tony.”
    Gabe swallowed.
    â€œWhere you live, it's dangerous. You need a guard dog. You need protection.”
    Gabe swallowed twice and issued a meager, “Yeah, I know what you mean.” He imagined a dozen Frankies running after him.
    â€œHe's yours. I want you to raise him good.”
    Gabe was glad that Lupe wasn't into dogfighting. He lowered his hand and let Tiger snort and lick his fingers. He didn't feel afraid of the dog anymore. After all, what did he have to fear? The dog was whipping its tail in friendship.
    Gabe hopped the fence, crouched behind a dumpster brimming with garbage, and glanced at the puppy sleeping by the back porch. The puppy had a rope around its neck. A water bowl was tipped over, and a canned dog food label was torn to shreds. Flies buzzed around the puppy's head like a halo.
    I'm going to save him, Gabe promised. He pictured himself running with the pup in his arms and Frankie and crew chasing him.
    Gabe heard music inside the house, music and a television, and party sounds of laughter, and things falling. He heard the refrigerator door slam, and a girl screamed, “YOU STOP THAT, YOU STUPID!”
    They're all stupid, Gabe thought.
    Suddenly the back door swung open, and Frankie appeared with a Popsicle stick in the corner of his mouth. He climbed down the steps, flicking the Popsicle stick at the puppy. He disappeared into the garage next to the house, and Gabe could hear rummaging sounds. Minutes later, Frankie tottered out of the garage with a case of soda. Before he returned inside, he tickled the puppy's chin with a toe. He laughed when the puppy sniffed and licked his toes. Frankie then poked his foot into the puppy's side. The puppy yelped but went on trying to lick Frankie's toes.
    I'm going to get you, Gabe swore. He would smile on the day when he found Frankie all alone. He would roll his hands into fists and aim for Frankie's mouth. We'll see if you laugh then, Gabe thought angrily.
    But that was some time in the future. For now, Gabe had to retrieve the puppy. He was hunkered behind the dumpster—the smell was making him dizzy—and he was prepared to rush across the ragged lawn, undo the rope, and be on his way with the puppy. He had to make his move. The sun crowned his head and made him sweat. The overfilled dumpster also radiated heat, and he could hear stirring sounds coming from within. Were there rats the size of small dogs in there, feasting on spoiled grub?
    When Gabe rushed forward, the puppy rose to its big floppy feet and wagged its tail. He pulled on the rope and marched in place. There was happiness in his small body and in his eyes. He began to lick Gabe's fingers as the boy struggled to undo the knot.
    â€œCome on,” he muttered. The knot was tight, his fingers clumsy. He wished he had a knife to cut through the rope.
    Gabe heard footsteps in the kitchen. Did they belong to Frankie or to his older brother, Tony? Gabe quickly tiptoed inside the garage and retreated toward the back, careful to not kick anything over. His hands trembled. In