I’m about to turn around and confess to everything. But then I hear a different voice answer, “Doc, Henry is having trouble with his back legs again.”

“Oh, Henry,” Mom’s voice says, “what are we gonna do with you?”

“I didn’t think you’d be here today, Dr. Mitchell-Rosen,” Henry’s owner says to Mom. “We have an appointment with Dr. Potter.”

“I’m covering for Dr. Potter today, so you’ll be with me.” I hear Henry panting and whimpering excitedly. “Once you get checked in, we’ll see what we can do about those back legs, Henry.”

Then Mom’s footsteps again, moving right alongside us.

Gramps turns in a circle as Mom walks by so that his back is facing her the whole time. She’s behind the reception desk now, asking another person for Henry’s file.

The person in front of us in line walks away.

We’re up.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asks Gramps—her name tag says MOLLY.

He rests his elbow on the counter and brings his hand up to his face like he’s shielding his eyes from the sun. “Uhh, yes,” he whispers.

There’s no way Mom won’t see us now!

“Pardon me?” Molly says, way too loudly.

Gramps clears his throat. Then holds up his finger, like hold on, turns away from the desk, and fake-coughs into his hand. He mouths the word poster, and Macy shoves the lost and found flyer into his hand. He turns back around and holds the flyer up so the receptionist can see, and whispers again, as quietly as possible, “We’re here to pick up our dog.”

“What?” she shouts again, drawing even more attention to us.

Mom turns around while skimming through the file folder in her hands.

Gramps sweeps the poster to the floor and ducks behind the desk.

“Sir?”

Macy bends over like she’s tying her shoe.

I kneel to “help” Gramps pick up the paper.

I hear Mom say thank you to someone, and I pull the drawstrings on my hoodie tight so that it closes in on my face while I rise up slowly to peek over the desk.

“She’s coming!” I whisper.

We all duck again.

More footsteps.

“Okay, Henry,” Mom says, “right this way.”

We all pop up from behind the desk, and Molly is looking at us with her face all scrunchy and contorted like we’re the strangest people she’s ever encountered. “Are you all okay?” she asks.

Gramps clears his throat and, all composed again, says, “Oopsie,” and continues like nothing happened. “As I said, we’re here to pick up my granddaughter’s lost dog.” Gramps pats the top of Macy’s head and then hands over the flyer. “We got a call that she was brought in earlier this week. Her name’s Dewdrop—”

“Dewey!” I whisper, nudging him with my elbow.