Runaway Twin Read Online Free PDF

order of french fries for my breakfast. I started to order a Pepsi, but then, hearing Rita’s voice in my mind, I changed it to an orange juice.
    I carried my meal to one of the outdoor tables. Movement in the bushes that lined the parking area caught my attention as I ate. Looking closer, I saw a dog lying with his head on his paws, watching me. As I ate a french fry, the dog’s eyes followed the movement of my hand to my mouth. He licked his chops.
    I tossed a fry toward him. It landed in the dirt about three feet in front of him. I expected him to lunge forward and grab it, but instead he rose slowly, and looked cautiously around before approaching the food. He sniffed the fry, then raised his head and looked at me, as if asking permission.
    â€œGo ahead,” I said. “That one’s for you.”
    The dog ate the french fry. Then he sat down and stared at me. I knew he wanted more.
    Something about the dog appealed to me. He wasn’t a cute little puppy. In fact, his muzzle showed some gray and he moved as if his joints were stiff. He appeared to be an unlikely combination of basset hound and black Lab, with long drooping ears and big sad-looking brown eyes. The fur on his face was black, with a tan spot over each eye. His legs seemed too short for his body, but he had a certain presence, a dignity, that belied the fact he was hanging around a fast-food restaurant, hoping for a handout.
    His ribs stuck out like the pickets in a fence and it had been a long time, if ever, since he’d had a bath.
    â€œGood dog,” I said, and he wagged his tail.
    I went inside and ordered a plain hamburger, just the meat and the bun. I carried it outside and broke it into pieces to cool. With the pieces piled on a napkin, I approached the dog. His eyes stayed on the hamburger as I came closer.
    â€œHere you are,” I said, and I put the food on the ground in front of him. Again, he did not lunge and gobble it all down. He stood, looked at me, and wagged his tail.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” I said.
    He ate slowly, as if savoring the treat.
    When he had finished, I extended my hand, fingers curled in a fist, so he could sniff me. His tongue came out and slurped my hand. I petted him then and he sat down beside me, leaning on me so hard that if I had moved suddenly, he would have fallen over.
    Now what? I thought. How could I walk away and board a bus and leave him here with no way to get his next meal? But I couldn’t take him with me, either. I was pretty sure dogs would not be allowed on the bus.
    Unless it was a service dog. I might be able to convince the ticket agent that this was a service dog, except that every service dog I’d ever seen wore a special coat with a service-dog logo. This dog didn’t even have a collar.
    I sat for a while, petting my new best friend. After a few minutes I went back inside.
    â€œThere’s a dog in your parking lot,” I told the girl who had sold me the hamburger. I pointed through the window.
    â€œHe’s there every day,” she said.
    â€œDo you know who he belongs to?”
    â€œI don’t think he belongs to anyone. He hangs around and eats food that people leave behind.”
    â€œWhere does he sleep?” I asked.
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. In the bushes, I guess.”
    â€œHe’s a nice dog,” I said. “Friendly. Has anyone tried to find his owner?”
    â€œYou mean, like, put an ad in the paper or make flyers for a Found Dog?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œNah. He’s been out there for a long time.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œWell, I’ve worked here for, like, three months and he’s been here that whole time.”
    I stared at her. For three months she had watched that dog beg for food and she had never tried to help him!
    â€œCould I have a cup of water for him?” I asked.
    â€œWe charge twenty-five cents for water.”
    â€œThat’s okay.”
    She