As soon as Noah leaves my room, there’s a rumble of thunder that growls in the distance. Which brings me back to the true source of why I’m mad at Gramps: Dewey. None of Noah’s wisdom can help me feel better about Dewey being stuck outside, alone, right now. This storm is only getting closer.

I don’t say much to anyone at dinner, especially Gramps. And when I go upstairs to my room afterward, I flip through my homework assignments, but I can’t stop worrying about Dewey.

Once I’m in bed, every time I almost fall asleep there’s another roll of thunder that wakes me up. “I’m here, Dewey,” I whisper, but I don’t hear her respond in my thoughts.

The next thing I know, I’m awoken by a crack of lightning that illuminates my entire room, followed by the kind of thunder that sounds so close it might split my house in half. I check my clock: it’s the middle of the night.

The rain is pounding against my window so hard I actually feel a little scared it might break the glass. But worse than that, underneath all the noise I hear the most desperate, lonely howl.

I shoot out of bed and down the stairs without even thinking, because all my insides are shaking with fear—but not mine. It’s Dewey’s. With my bathrobe draped over my head, I run out to the shed and fling open the door. I don’t even see her at first. She’s hiding. A trembling ball under Mama’s worktable. I kneel down and open my arms, and Dewey scrambles over to me.

Even though she’s half my size, I gather her up in my arms like a baby, and she clings to me with her paws tight around my shoulders. I cover us both with my bathrobe and run toward the house. I don’t know how I find the strength, but I do. I carry her all the way up the stairs and into my bedroom. She never stops shivering. I finally set her down on the rug and sit there holding her until she calms down.

Her thoughts are frantic, jumping back and forth between now and her old memories of the house with the mean people.

“You’re okay. I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone.”

I tell her that over and over. Until her thoughts begin to slow and stay with me in the present. “You’re sleeping in a real bed tonight, where you belong,” I whisper.

She follows me to my bed, and I pull the covers up over us, still holding on to her tight. I don’t fall asleep until I hear the sound of her steady breathing, in and out, letting me know she’s finally resting. I kiss her head, and close my eyes too.

Chapter 29

THE BEST DAY