Free Road Trip by Gary Paulsen Page B

as unimpressed by Dad’s wisdom tonight as he was when I said almost that same thing to him earlier in the day.
    “Yeah, right,” Gus snorts. “When ya hafta compare yer day to that disaster ta find the upside, ya ain’t in good shape.”
    I swear Atticus smiles at me before he lies back down. “It’ll all work out,” I tell Gus. “It always does.”
    Theo’s done drawing tattoos on Mia and me, and I take pictures of them. Dad and Gus take a pass on his offer to ink them.
    “Okay, now we’ve really got to get some sleep,” Dad says, switching off the TV again. “We’re wheels up at oh-five-hundred hours, so sleep fast.”
    We all say good night and everyone heads back to their rooms. Atticus stays on Dad’s bed this time. As it should be.
    “You might want to call Mom before you go to bed.” I flip my phone to Dad. “Tell her we’re okay. Tell her”—I pause and then say it real fast before I can change my mind or something mean comes out of my mouth—“that I say hi, too, and I’m sorry I missed her calls and texts today.”
    Dad grins and tips his head in agreement as he dials her number and steps outside the room.
    The perfect end to a perfectly weird day.

ATTICUS
    Good thing that Gus is helping Theo and Mia. Someone’s got to keep them straight, and they don’t have me.
    I heard him say that he raised everything on four legs on a farm.
    Teenagers can’t be that much different.

The Reason for the Trip
    We pull up at the shelter where my new dog—I’ve settled on calling him Gretzky—has been staying. I leap out of the bus and race up the sidewalk.
    The door is locked.
    Dad, Gus, Mia, Theo, Atticus, and I are peering through the glass, and it’s all I can do not to keep pressing the bell until someone answers. I think Theo’s going to reach over me and start pounding with his fist. Mia’s got her forehead pressed against the door, her hands cupped around her eyes, trying to see inside.
    “Over here,” a voice calls from the corner of the building.
    We turn, and I see a cute girl gesturing at us to follow her to the back. She’s holding a tiny gray kitten and ababy bottle. She looks like she’s my age. And she’s more than cute. I forget to breathe for a few seconds.
    She leads us to a small fenced-in yard with a couple of kids’ wading pools and a bunch of toys scattered around on the grass. She settles in a deck chair and starts feeding the kitten.
    Atticus walks over and sniffs the kitten, nuzzling its tiny ears and licking one small paw. Then he sits next to the chair and watches the girl feed the cat. He nudges her hand when the bottle slips out of the kitten’s mouth.
    The girl is wearing a V L NT R apron and a badge that says AL S N . She’s totally focused on feeding the cat and acts like we’re not even standing there.
    I find my voice, but it cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “We’re here. Finally. It’s been, well, it’s a long story.” I squint at her, trying to decipher the code on her apron.
    “Volunteer. Alison. The shelter’s on a tight budget, we can’t afford vowels.” She’s funny. Joking, right? But she glares a hole in my forehead, then gives Dad, Theo, Gus, and Mia the once-over. She’s petting Atticus’s head with her free hand without seeming to notice. He rests his head on her knee, studying the kitten. “You’re the people for Conor?”
    Weird. People who like animals, in my experience, are usually friendly. Maybe she doesn’t like people.
    “Who’s Conor?”
    “The border collie. His name is Conor. I might not be able to keep him, but at least I can give him the most beautiful name I know.”
    “Oh, we didn’t know he had a name. I was going to call him … Never mind,” I stumble. “We didn’t know you wanted to keep him.” Man, I didn’t see
this
coming. “But, yeah, we’re here. For … Conor.”
    “No.”
    “What do you mean, ‘no’?” Now that we finally got here, we’re … denied? Can she do