The Good Son by Carolyn Mills (best novels for teenagers .txt) 📕

I was more than welcome to stay with her on Lindell Drive instead of spending all my money on a down payment for a run-down little property on Pine Street.

Walter was in his second year at UW by then, living in a house off-campus. Even he seemed unenthusiastic about my purchase, still voicing his hope that I would one day see what else there was outside of Dunford.

“You could still apply to college,” he told me, while he was down visiting for Christmas. We were sitting in his basement since I didn’t have any furniture in my new house yet, other than a kitchen table and a bed.

I made some sort of noncommittal motion with my head, as if I was still open to entertaining the idea. It was hard to know what to talk about with Walter anymore. I’d gone up to visit him in September, in the house he shared with a group of friends, but the whole weekend had been one long stretch of awkward interactions. His roommates were nice enough and they tried to include me in their conversations, but eventually someone would start talking about a theory or math problem or professor and I would be stuck silently listening to their academic jargon, wondering what on earth Walter and I used to talk about before our lives veered in opposite directions.

It was better when he came to Dunford. Right now, three of his sisters were also home for the holidays and his house had regained much of the noisy energy I had coveted when we were younger.

“Yeah, I could,” I finally said in reply to his comment about college, hoping to stave off any more discussion around my decision to stay at the plant, and to put down roots in Dunford by buying a house. “You guys doing anything for New Years? Your family, I mean.”

“My parents are hosting a dinner party. They want us to help out. You?”

“Dunno yet. Roger, a guy from work, is having some people over. Should be half decent.”

“Yeah,” Walter said. “Beats hanging out with your mom, I guess.”

I HAD JUST PICKED OUT some furniture in Leeville and was walking back to my car when a skinny puppy limped toward me in the Leon’s parking lot. I glanced around for its owner before crouching down to hold out my hand. That sad-looking little pup didn’t even hesitate to walk right up to my empty hand, staring up at me with unabashed hope.

The dog had obviously been abandoned. It had no collar, and was dirty, hurt, and hungry. I reached over to scratch the pup’s ears and instead of flinching, it just leaned right into me, lifting those hope-filled eyes to mine. I could see it was a boy, and already names were running through my mind. Champ, I decided. And in that moment, I knew I was going to bring him home.

After a quick stop at the nearby pet store, I had everything I thought I’d need: puppy chow, food and water bowls, a chew toy, a collar, and a leash. Then, with Champ scrabbling around on the front seat beside me, I drove back to Dunford, my heart twisting with something like love for my new, pitiful companion.

Champ followed me around my empty house, wagging his tail like a metronome. I fed him a small portion of kibble, mixed with some water, just like the pet store clerk suggested, and watched as Champ gobbled up the entire amount. When had the poor little guy last eaten? Within minutes of emptying the bowl, he threw up.

As I cleaned up the mushy, still-warm pile of undigested kibble, Champ hovered beside me, and he looked so small and forlorn that I pulled him onto my lap. “It’s okay,” I told him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

He licked my chin and I sat on the kitchen floor, rocking him in my lap, wondering what kind of person would abandon a helpless puppy. Immediately, an almost-forgotten image of my brother and Darius surfaced: the two of them hunched over a sparrow in our backyard. Darius was poking the bird with a stick, and before he noticed me come around the corner, Ricky was just standing there, watching as the tiny bird struggled to flap its one good wing.

“I’m not like him,” I whispered.

Champ wagged his tail, then peed in my lap.

MOM CAME BY A FEW days later to see my new furniture, and of course, my new puppy. The furniture had just been delivered that morning and I wasn’t sure I liked it as much in my house as I had in the store. I heard Mom’s car door as I was mopping up Champ’s latest accident. He’d stopped throwing up every time he ate, but he still peed regularly in the house. I couldn’t be angry with him, though; he didn’t know any better and I hadn’t exactly been doing much to train him. I knew he would have to relieve himself inside when I was at work, but I sort of hoped he would gravitate to the newspapers I laid out for him.

Champ followed me to the front door; he liked to stay within a few feet of me at all times. “Hi,” I said, holding out my hands for the lasagna Mom had told me she was bringing. “Come on in.”

“So here’s the little guy I’ve been hearing all about!” She reached down to scratch Champ on the head and he wagged his tail happily. “What do you do with him while you’re at work?”

“I slide a board across the entrance to the kitchen so he can’t get out and he hangs out in there.”

I set the lasagna on the stove and began putting together a Caesar salad. The table was already set so Mom sat down and watched me. “Have you talked to Richard lately?” she asked.

“Not recently.” Mom loved talking about Ricky and his new girlfriend Lauren and how happy it made her that he seemed to