“Okay.” I surprise even myself. “I’ll take the money from my account.” Money isn’t everything, after all. If Diesel and I stay alive over these next four days, that’s what really counts.

“Um, how much do I need?” I ask.

“A dozen. Oh, you mean for the bathing suit. Twenty, um, thirty … forty bucks max.” Morgan grins. “They’re having a sidewalk sale at the mall. Just bring your debit card.”

“No. I only use cash like Money Lady on TV says. That way I stick to a budget.”

“Money Lady?” She rolls her eyes. “Whatever!”

Morgan waits as I head upstairs to dig out the card from my underwear drawer. I wave it as I return to the kitchen, then slide it into my wallet. Which is when I notice my watch again. I frown.

“What, you have someplace more important to go?” Morgan asks.

Swimming, I think but shake my head. “My watch keeps flashing the same date and time. Thursday, July first, four thirty.”

“Who cares? Honestly, who wears a watch these days?”

“My father gave it to me.”

“So get a new battery!”

“You know that dream I told you about where I drown?”

“Your second-sight dream?”

“Uh huh.” I tap my watch. “This was the time I drowned at.”

Her mouth drops open and she stares at me. For just one moment, I think she believes me and understands. She’ll change her mind and we’ll have a swimming lesson like she promised. Then she shakes her head.

“Stop eating sweets before bed, I’m tellin’ ya.” She winks. “And that way there’ll be more donuts for the rest of us.”

14

Monday, June 28:

Bikini Shopping

After I finish breakfast, I lead Diesel down to the cool of the basement and turn on the television to the Super Dog finals. I put out a large bowl of water. He won’t even have to climb the stairs if he gets thirsty. Not like last time I left him, in the yard with nothing. “We’re heading for the mall. Dogs are not allowed.”

“Aroooh!” He slumps down in disgust.

I kneel down and pat him. “I’m sorry, Diesel.”

Alone. His toffee eyes fill with sadness.

“I’ll give you a treat.”

Okay! He thumps his tail.

I slip him a sliver of wiener left over from yesterday, still in my pocket. He swallows it and drops his mouth open in a relaxed pant.

I give him one last pat goodbye.

Then Morgan and I head off to pick up Baby Luanne. By the time we have her diapered and dressed and all the buckles done up in the stroller, it’s getting close to her nap time. Her head nods as we set off for the bus stop. Dead asleep by the time the bus comes, but it turns out strollers aren’t allowed unless they’re folded up.

“You do not want this kid awake, trust me.” Morgan manages to convince the driver the stroller won’t block the aisles, and for once I’m glad for her mouth.