OVER MY HEAD

OVER MY HEAD, Chapter 4

4

First thing Saturday morning and already Dalton is trying to Facebook chat. I stare at the screen.

Dalton Dreyfus 

When can I see you?

I know I promised I'd level with him. But an entire day has passed since the kiss and still I have not leveled with him in any way, shape or form. In my defense, I haven't exactly seen him yet. Maybe I could go on not seeing him forever. Or maybe I could just type in the miserable news and get it over with. 

I tell myself that anyone who uses Facebook to break up is cowardly scum. UNLESS they are just saving the other person from a really embarrassing moment. In that case it's actually nice. 

My fingers are poised over the keyboard. I know what I need to say: I like you as a friend, but that's all. I'm horrible. You're an amazing kisser. Forgive me? 

I bend my fingers, but I just can't type the words. 

Dalton Dreyfus 

You there? 

Unfortunately, yes. Deep sigh. 

Sang Jumnal 

Can we meet?

*****

I slowly open the door to Mrs. Schnapps' house, expecting her toy poodle to come barreling toward me. I haven't had much experience with dogs, but isn't that what they do? There's an eerie silence. "Here Poopsie Poopsie Poopsie," I call, shutting the door behind me. All around the foyer there's plenty of poop, but no Poopsie. I grit my teeth and tiptoe through the minefield to the safety of the kitchen. On the counter are cleanser, paper towels and a mound of plastic bags. "Mrs. Schnapps, you'd better pay me well." 

I clean up the mess and toss the bag into the trash outside while rethinking my grand pet-sitting business scheme because that would be a LOT of poop. When I return, Poopsie comes racing toward me from her hiding spot, all waggy tailed as if she was the most innocent toy poodle in the world. 

"Don't talk to me," I say. "I'm really pissed at you." 

Poopsie rears up on her hind legs and scratches my knees.  

"Stop that." 

She cocks her head to one side and looks absolutely adorable. 

"No fair." I cross my arms. 

She runs into the living room and comes back with this ratty stuffed animal that looks like a dust bunny with eyes. She tosses it at my feet. 

"I am not touching that thing, so forget it." 

Poopsie pokes my knee with her cold black nose and I crack a smile. 

"Okay," I say. "But only once." I toss the toy down the hall. Poopsie springs after it, her toenails skidding on the wood floor. She brings it back and I toss it again. Again. Again. After a few dozen tosses, Poopsie is panting and no longer cares about her mangy toy, so I take her for a little walk around the yard and then fill her water and food bowls. I pick her up and rub her pom-pom ears. "No more surprises, okay?" She licks me in the nostril. We're the best of friends. "Okay, I'll see you later." I set her down. 

Poopsie does her head tilt thing again like she's trying to understand. It must be tough having a brain the size of a walnut. I wave bye and she tilts her head the other way, suddenly seeming sad and lonely. I leave and lock the door, feeling sad myself. Poor Poopsie.