Joey was mad this morning. He walked from his townhouse to the driveway and threw his lunch pack to the ground. “Mom is letting Juicy eat all my stuffed animals.”
“She says it’s an accident but I don’t believe her.”
Juicy is Joey’s biological grandfather’s rottweiler. She’s an outside dog and easily agitated. I won’t go near her.
“Why’s the dog at your house?”
“Pops is still in the hospital. And Mom doesn’t want Juicy to be alone.”
Joey started cryin’. I said, “I’m sorry.”
“I told her the dog bit me and she told me. ‘Be quiet or go to your room.’ She doesn’t care if I’m hurt. She doesn’t care about my stuff.”
Joey showed me his arm. It was just a scratch. He picked up his lunch pack. I wanted to ask him why he had the lunch when his tab was paid in full at Catholic School’s Cafeteria. But he was still wipin’ tears from his eyes so I kept my mouth shut.
Joey got into the front passenger seat of my car, sighed and said, “Mom wanted me to call you earlier and tell you I was staying home. I told her I was going to school. She got mad and told me to watch my mouth or she’d put me in timeout, wouldn’t let me see you and wouldn’t let me go to Orlando with the Webb’s.”
“You’re goin’ to Orlando?”
“For Labor Day. Well, maybe I’m going.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re goin’. And I’m so glad you wanted to go to school. I’m glad you didn’t stay home.”
“Yeah, I figure 7 hours at school equals 7 hours away from Mom.”