Don't Hurt Me

Chapter 42

I don't see Josh until May. It's a blazing afternoon, and I'm out walking Dizzy, a mutt that belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Ramirez from my neighborhood, or rather my old neighborhood.

I pass by my old house, which is now a new house. I might not have recognized it if I'd never lived here. I want to hang around longer to try and get a glimpse of the family, but dogs get restless if you stay in one place for too long.

I wander up and down nearby streets, slowing in front of the stores where we always did our shopping. The drugstore, the grocer's, the supermarket – all of this will be forgotten in a couple of months. As it is, I feel like an outsider here already.

I feel like getting something cold to drink, so I tie Dizzy's leash around a streetlight. As I'm straightening up, I see someone running across the street towards me. Josh. With his long legs, it doesn't take him long to get to me. He stops on the curb, breathing slightly fast, his cheeks flushed and warm from the heat. "Hey," he greets me, saying it in this relaxed, gentle sigh.

"Hey."

He nods at Dizzy. "Got bored of Santa?"

For a moment, I'm surprised. Surprised he remembers that I have a cat, surprised that he even remembers Santa's name. I smile at him. "No, I'm dog-walking for money."

Josh peers at me, and I mentally kick myself for sounding so pathetic. I have to make sure I don't give Josh any reason to worry about me.

Then again, it isn't just him. I shouldn't say things that sound like calls for pity to anyone. Because that isn't what I want. Or is it? Do people, even the hard-nosed ones, secretly want some form of pity or attention when they're in trouble? Is that why I always found it so hard to stay away from Josh?

I cock a thumb at the convenience store. "Hey, do you mind watching Dizzy for a minute while I run inside to get a drink?"

"Sure."

"Do you want anything?"

"No, thanks."

I slip inside the store, taking my time inside, where it's cool from the AC, and I can have a moment to myself to think. When I emerge, Josh is rubbing Dizzy's square, light brown head. I pop the can of soda in my hand, and, out of courtesy, hand it out to Josh. He thinks for a moment, then takes a long drink, head tilted back, curls brushing over his ears. When he hands the can back to me, I don't drink. I feel shy, but I don't know why.

"Cute dog," he remarks, nodding at Dizzy.

"Yeah. She's great. Some of the others are just a nightmare. Um … so what are you doing out here, anyway?"

"I was at a friend's."

I blink. Gang friends? One from those who beat up the pervert that night so long ago on Toledo Avenue? I still find it impossible to believe that Josh, who is wonderful and understanding, could have friends like those.

Then again, maybe I'm judging them too quickly. Maybe, aside from the beating up thing, Josh's friends are not as bad as I think they are. Or maybe … well, I'm not sure I want to think about the opposite being true.

"How are your grandparents?" I jump on a random thought.

"OK. My granddad was kind of sick for a while."

"What?"

"Yeah. It was just a cold, but you know, when old people get sick, it's pretty bad. I was a little worried at first, but he pulled out of it."

I crack a small smile. "That's good. Your granddad is such a great guy."

"Yeah, I know. I'd hate to lose him. Or my grandma. I mean, that would just be – "