“Stormy!” she called in the front room. She waited a moment, wondering where the dog was, and felt a tiny spark of fear light up in her at the thought that Stormy might be down at the bottom of the basement stairs again. But then the dog came trotting out, tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

“Good girl!” said Amy, petting Stormy while she fastened her leash on. She was about to head outside when she heard a soft bark from the other room.

Stormy began a terrified whine.

Sure enough, Rover stood there, staring at them expectantly. He had a new hot spot now, this one on his shoulder and creeping down his front leg. Amy wondered what unnatural thing he’d done with his powers to give himself that horrible wound.

“What do you want?” she asked, feeling scared by how easily Rover had sneaked up on her.

Rover looked at the leash in Amy’s hand, then at Stormy—then up at Amy expectantly. Amy’s skin crawled at the idea of taking the German shepherd along with her. She knew she should consider this a peace offering after what she’d tried to do to him.

Maybe he’d forgiven her.

But …

She didn’t want to walk him. All she wanted to do was have a trip to the park alone with her sweet Stormy—but no. Rover wouldn’t let her have anything for herself, not even for one moment. He wanted to be the only dog in town.

Well, not this time.

“No, Rover,” she said. “This is Stormy’s walk. Mom’ll walk you later.”

And with that, she headed out into the glorious spring day with Stormy and slammed the door behind her.

It felt great, walking down the street away from Rover, from her house and all the drama and unease that hung around there like a great black cloud. Stormy seemed to feel it, too, prancing at Amy’s side and barking with joy. Without thinking, Amy broke into a jog, and Stormy joined her. The two ran down the street with the afternoon sun on their faces, the breeze rushing past them.

This is nice, she thought, just a girl and her dog. The way it used to be.

Amy grinned. She hadn’t felt this way in weeks; even during the sleepover at Marguerite’s, she wasn’t this happy. Maybe it was the weather. Or maybe it was turning down Rover, showing that she wasn’t going to be scared every time he woofed or made a door slam. She was her own person—she could do what she wanted, and as long as she was away from Rover, he had no power over her.

She got to a corner and hit the button on the crosswalk.

Next to her, Stormy tensed and whimpered.

“What’s wrong, girl?” asked Amy. She petted the dog’s neck, then followed her eyes across the street.