“Officers!” I see her lips move.

Quickly, I tear a strip from my old cereal towel, roll it, and loop it under Diesel’s collar. Doubled up, the towel makes a very short leash that I think can hold.

“Come on, boy.” I slap my thigh and he trots neatly beside me. Perfect, no strain to the towel at all.

As we rush out of the neighbour’s yard, I look back to see the apple-doll lady shaking her fist.

Too bad for her. So good for us.

“Woof!” What about Wiener Girl?

“Never mind her,” I tell him as we walk quickly away from the police car. It’s twilight now and no buses or cars pass us. So quiet, it gives me time to think. We can go straight home, and I can tell Mom that Morgan and I had a fight. She won’t know about our little party, including boys, at a pool that doesn’t even belong to us. Morgan can bring the rest of my stuff later. If she doesn’t land in jail or get grounded.

Not that I ever want to see her again. She likes Diesel fine, but me, that has to be faking. Simon didn’t talk to me all evening, didn’t even try my donuts. And I can’t blame him, really. How could he pay attention to me with all those beautiful, tall girls hanging around him? It’s Morgan I blame for not telling me the guys were coming. For lying about Simon liking me. Some big joke on Peanut, the little genius kid, all so Morgan can make her play for Tom.

Diesel hesitates at the corner and looks back toward the house with the pool. He sits down, one ear up, one down, then turns his head to the side and whimpers at me. Wiener Girl?

“She won’t get in trouble like I will,” I tell him. “Bet her mother won’t care that boys were there.”

Diesel woofs gently and I hold tight to the towel ends as we cross the street together. Another block and then another. At each corner he sits pretty for me, and in between he walks nicely at my heels.

The sky darkens gradually. I can’t believe I ever thought Morgan was my friend. Although I have to admit, Diesel behaves beautifully now and she helped me train him. Maybe she only hangs with me because of my dog and because she misses King. She always lies to everyone. My eyes burn. I shake my head.

Diesel shakes his head, too. You are wrong about Wiener Girl.

He suddenly stops dead, fur along his backbone rising. Too late, I see what sits on the lawn across the street, motionless, ears stiff and tall. A large brown rabbit. For a moment or two the bunny and Diesel stare at each other. Neither seems to believe their luck.

Then the rabbit springs across the lawn, poufy white tail taunting from the rear.

I hear the towel tear, and I grab for Diesel’s collar.