Runaway Twin Read Online Free PDF Page B

filled the cup, and I gave her a quarter.
    The dog slurped eagerly, sticking his tongue down inside the cup. I poured the last of the water into my hand, and he licked it. He needs a bowl, I thought. He needs a collar and a leash.
    He needs me.
    I knew it would take me twice as long to find Starr if I had a goofy-looking old dog tagging along with me.
    â€œI’m sorry, dog,” I said. “If I lived nearby, I’d take you home in a heartbeat. But I don’t live near here. I don’t live anywhere.”
    The dog wagged his tail, acting as pleased as if I’d said, “Come on, pal. You’re going with me.”
    I don’t live anywhere. What an awful thought! It made me sound like one of those homeless people who shuffle along pushing a stolen shopping cart that contains everything they own.
    I wasn’t really homeless, not like those street people. I could always go back to Rita’s and, even though she’d be mad at me for running away, I knew she’d take me back. Rita would probably take the dog, too.
    I patted the dog, daydreaming about showing up at Rita’s with this big old mutt.
    â€œWho’s your friend?” Rita would ask, and I would say he had followed me home, uninvited, and she’d know I was pretending and wouldn’t care.
    No! I pushed the image out of my mind. First I had to find Starr. Then the two of us would come back here and, if the dog was still hanging around, we’d adopt him and take him home—to my real home, with Starr.
    I stood and walked away from the dog. I didn’t look back until I reached the corner.
    The dog was right behind me.
    â€œYou can’t come,” I said. “Stay!”
    He hung his head.
    His tail drooped.
    My heart broke.
    I knew exactly how he felt. I remembered all the times I had felt unwanted, times when I desperately wished to be welcomed and cherished. How could I do to him the very thing that had hurt me the most?
    I couldn’t. He was a stray, like me. We strays need to stick together.

6
    W e were standing in front of a supermarket. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “Sit.” To my surprise, the dog sat down. “Stay,” I said. The dog watched me go inside. I found the aisle that had pet supplies, and I bought a collar, a leash, a water bowl, and a box of dog biscuits. I also got a small box of plastic sandwich bags so that I could clean up after the dog. One of my pet peeves on the trail by Rita’s house was people who left their dogs’ poop behind for other people to step in.
    I fastened the collar around his neck and snapped the leash on. I opened the box of biscuits and gave him one.
    â€œYou need a name,” I said.
    The dog crunched his biscuit.
    â€œMaybe it should have something to do with the sky,” I told him. “I’m Sunny and my sister is Starr and our last name is Skyland.”
    I thought of sky words: moon, cloud, blue. The dog’s tan and black color suggested Earth words, not sky words. I saw that he had been neutered.
    â€œSomebody loved you once,” I said, “the same as me.”
    The dog’s tail thumped the ground, making me smile.
    â€œNow someone loves you again.”
    I crammed the box of biscuits into my backpack and put the pack on. I picked up the leash and walked down the sidewalk. The dog trotted at my side as if I had spent the last month teaching him to heel.
    Maybe I could name him after one of the planets. Mars was the god of war; this dog seemed too peaceful to be called Mars. Venus was a goddess; I couldn’t saddle a boy dog with a girl’s name. Mercury didn’t seem right, either. A dog named Mercury should be silver colored, and a fast runner. This dog plodded. Neptune? Uranus? Saturn? None seemed quite right.
    Next I thought of Pluto. This old boy didn’t look anything like the Disney cartoon dog Pluto, but I had always liked those old cartoons. What I didn’t like was