She squeezes back.

Still wearing the knock-’em-dead red underneath, I should feel strong as I head back to the kitchen to Morgan and Diesel. My underwater swim stroke might keep me alive in an emergency, after all. Money shouldn’t be so tight when we move in with Aunt Cathie, and my parents just have to get back together, lizard man movie or not.

“You think the donuts will be all right in the heat? Maybe we should have one, just in case,” Morgan suggests.

“In case what?” I ask, holding the two boxes away from her.

“You know, they melt or get smooshed, the cream drools out of them. Gimme that,” she reaches for the box.

Me, too, I would like some. “Rawf!”

“Fine.” I carefully open the top box. The donuts look like a party. I take a double chocolate and bite in. “Mmm, Mom bought fresh!”

“Wonders never cease.” Morgan grabs a pink-iced sprinkle.

“Thought you wanted the sour-cream glaze,” I say.

“Saving that one. Sprinkles are awesome as long as you can brush your teeth.” She bites in and I can hear the crunch.

Sweet, tiny, coloured kibble! Both Diesel’s ears lift and he quickly dives for the blue and yellow bits that rain on the floor.

When he’s finished lapping them up, Morgan makes him do his balancing act again, this time with a donut bit on his muzzle. “Wait, wait!” She holds up a finger and counts.

Look at me. What I don’t do to amuse you humans!

“One, two, … and go!”

Diesel lifts his head, sends the piece of donut into the air, and then snaps it up.

“You’re such a good dog!” She pats Diesel.

Oh, you have no idea! He turns and licks her.

She hugs him. “King used to do that trick all the time.” Morgan’s mouth twists.

“Thanks for giving Diesel his collar,” I tell her. My dog is alive; hers is not. Even Diesel feels sad for Morgan. He licks her face and I hug both of them at the same time.

“Okay, well, let’s go,” Morgan says, and we break apart and head out.

The heat nearly knocks me over as we step out the door, but Morgan’s house is only a couple of blocks away. “Hot enough to fry an egg,” I complain. “Think I’m going to melt.”

“Who cares?” Morgan says. “’Long as the donuts don’t.” She happily carries the two boxes and Diesel’s leash. “We’re here already.”

Her house looks identical to ours, a two-bedroom townhouse like most of the houses in the neighbourhood, only her mom hasn’t decorated the kitchen as pretty. The cupboards are dark and the walls are bandage-coloured. We put the donut boxes on the counter, and a tall, toothy boy with large freckles comes running in.

“Rawf!” Diesel wags at him.

“Hey, doggie!” Morgan’s brother bends down and wraps his arms around Diesel. I watch him and think it must be nice to have a younger brother, not so little as Luanne, someone you can actually talk to. He looks up and sees what’s on the counter. “Can I have one?”