“Well, not exactly,” mumbled Dad. He looked down into his cereal. “Go get your bag, or you’ll be late.”

Two days later, when Dad picked Amy up from school, she found him high-strung and impatient, gently slapping his thigh as he stood outside the car. He barely spoke during the drive home, but every time they stopped at a red light, he drummed on the steering wheel with his palms.

“Dad, is everything okay?” asked Amy. Part of her wondered if the pressure had finally gotten to him and he was having a nervous breakdown. Then again, he seemed more lively now than he had since his accident.

“Just you wait,” said Dad. “It should be all ready when we get home.”

When they reached the house, another car was already parked in their driveway, a black Jeep whose backside was checkered with bumper stickers. Amy read some of them off—

DON’T SHOP, ADOPT

I LOVE DOGS—IT’S PEOPLE I CAN’T STAND!

HONK IF YOU HATE ANIMAL CRUELTY

All of them were adorned with paw prints or outlines of dogs.

When they got out of the car, they found a man—definitely the Jeep’s owner, thought Amy—standing on their front step. He was tall and muscular, with sharp red hair, wearing a black tank top and black track pants. His exposed arms were covered with weaving tribal tattoos that reminded Amy of some giant sticker bush, and in each of his earlobes was a wheel so big she could’ve stuck her thumb through one and not touched the sides.

“Mitchell?” said the man, extending a hand as they walked up to him. He shook both Dad’s and Amy’s hands, his palm soft and his grip hard. “Fieldston Kade, dog whisperer. Pleasure to meet you, man. Excited to be working together.”

Oh no, thought Amy as Dad let the two of them in.

Chapter 17: Obedience School

“Please, take a seat,” said Dad.

“I’m good standing,” said Fieldston, swinging his arms back and forth like he was stretching before gym class. “So, remind me, what’s the breed we’re working with today?”

“He’s a German shepherd,” said Amy. “His name’s Rover, and—”

“Rover.” Fieldston laughed. “Old-school. Spot, Fido, Rover. Love that stuff. Well, listen, you guys don’t have anything to worry about. I’ve worked with shepherds before, and let me tell you, they are tough, yes, but they want to be trained. Some dogs prefer to be wild dogs, but German shepherds actually feel better when they have a job and someone telling them how to behave. They feel like they have a purpose, you know?”

“Uh-huh,” said Dad. “Well, look, about this dog—”