Walking the Dog

By Linda Benson

Can the school therapy dog help Sophie overcome her troubled past? Or will it take the friendship of a boy named Jared?

Filled with guidance dogs, shelter animals, and one memorable orange cat, this timeless tale will stir your emotions as two young friends navigate the difficult waters of growing up.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seven Trails Press
• Release date: Mar 17, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519930835

Linda Benson

Award-winning author Linda Benson writes fiction for animal lovers of all ages. Her novels include THE GIRL WHO REMEMBERED HORSES, SIX DEGREES OF LOST, WALKING THE DOG, FINDING CHANCE, and THE HORSE JAR (which has been translated into Spanish.) She also writes a series of short fiction called CAT TALES. Ms. Benson has been a veterinary assistant, zoo keeper, racetrack groom, realtor, children's librarian, and has owned both a native plant nursery and a saddle shop. She currently teaches English as a second language. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and a myriad of animals.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – New Girl

RUMORS FLOAT AROUND about Sophie from the day she arrives. We hear things whispered in the hallway and on the playground. Most kids don’t change schools this late in the year, when we can almost taste summer and freedom. Sophie got transferred here to get out of a difficult situation. Something bad happened to her.

It doesn’t really matter to me. Ever since Ms. Cordilini seated Sophie in the desk right next to mine, I can’t help staring. Sophie is smaller than most of the girls in our class, with hair so blonde you can almost see through it. Her eyes are pale blue, and even with the scar that runs up the side of her cheek and splits her eyebrow in half, I think she’s the most beautiful girl in the entire fifth grade.

First thing in the morning, Ms. Cordilini usually gives us a math problem up on the board. It’s our wake-up exercise, she says. Something to get our foggy minds tuned in to school.

Sophie comes in late a lot of times. Her hair is rumpled and her clothes wrinkled, like she just got out of bed. But as soon as she gets to class, she puts her stuff away and starts working. Not visiting and talking, like everybody else. Sophie is always right on task, not messing around, just doing her work.

After a few days of this, I start sneaking a look at her paper in case I get called on.

Jared Westin, can you tell us what the common denominator is of one-fourth and one-sixth?

I hate it when Ms. C. asks me stuff about math. I don’t know the answer. I don’t really get math, anyway, especially fractions. I look over at Sophie. She’s probably got the right answer. She never raises her hand though.

Kayla, the pony-tailed teacher’s pet in the front row, jabs her hand in the air like she’s bidding at an auction. I know. Pick me. Pick me, she says, like a broken record and Ms. C. points to her. Front row kids always get picked.

Twelfths, spouts Kayla, with a smug grin on her face. You need to change them both to twelfths.

Correct, says Ms. Cordilini. Who else got that?

Not me. I steal a glance at Sophie’s paper. She’s got her eyes down, probably so no one will call on her. But she has the right answer: three-twelfths and two-twelfths. Sophie looks at me sideways with a small, crooked grin, and my insides turn to syrup.

After math our class walks in a line, following Ms. Cordilini into the corridor and toward the gym for assembly. A couple of other teachers fall in step. Between hollering at us to keep our line straight, our voices turned off, and other unimportant stuff, they start whispering, like we don’t have any ears.

I can’t help it if I’m curious, so I listen up when I hear the words new girl. I know they’re talking about Sophie.

Sad, sad story, they say in hushed tones. Abused, they breathe, only they cover their mouths and look the other way when they say it.

Once Joey kept saying he was abused, after he got himself grounded for a whole week for saying the F-word in front of his father. With no television or computer time, Joey acted like it was the end of the world.

Then there was Lucas, who moved away. He was a sour kid anyway, and my parents never let me play at his house. He told us his dad used to take a belt to him. I guess that would qualify.

But Sophie. When I try to imagine what might have happened to her, how she could have got that scar on the side of her face, my stomach knots up and I can’t even think about it.

After assembly we have lunch, and I watch Sophie. She gets her tray and wanders around the cafeteria, looking for a spot. No one scoots over for her. She finally sits by some third graders, but they finish their meal and go outside to play. As the table empties, Sophie eats her chips and sandwich by herself.

At lunch recess when I’m out on the field, I spot Sophie push open the double doors that open to the playground. Kids seem to avoid her like the plague. She follows the gravel path along the fence line, kicking rocks out of her way. Her head is down, like she’s concentrating really hard on the top of her shoe.

Me and my friend Corey are kicking the soccer ball around just for fun. It’s hard to get motivated toward a real game when you only have a few minutes of recess left. Plus, the sun is so warm it’s making me lazy.

Wake up, Westin! Corey hollers so loud it jolts me back to reality. Are you playing? Or daydreaming? He mounts a running drive down the field and kicks the ball in a high arc toward the goal.

Mike, this huge fifth grader from the other class, starts shoving people out of the way. I’m waiting for the yard duty teacher to blow the whistle at him, only they’re not even looking. Mike jumps in front of the ball and gives it a sloppy kick. His foot slips sideways, and the soccer ball careens over the heads of all the players, right toward the path where Sophie is walking, with her head still down.

Way to go, dude. Corey makes a rude noise, way down in his throat. Good shot.

I wince. Will Sophie look up in time?

I hold my breath and watch the soccer ball lob right over the top of Sophie’s head and hit the track in front of her, missing her by inches. Sophie doesn’t even flinch. She doesn’t try and kick the ball back to us - she just stands there.

I rush toward her, before Corey and his big mouth get there. Catching my breath, I try to think of some cool remark. Hey, is all that comes out.

Hay is for horses, Jared. Sophie smiles her lopsided smile.

I like the way she says my name. That was a close one, I say.

She nods, peering at me with those clear blue eyes, the same color as the sky.

Come on, Westin. Kick the ball. Quit wasting time. The bell’s going to ring.

I dribble the soccer ball between my feet until I’m out on the grass. Then I pass it hard down the field toward Corey. I steal a glance back at Sophie, who stands like a statue with that goofy sideways grin plastered on her face. I smile too, just a little, and charge after the ball.

Chapter 2 – Bad News 

HURRY UP, JARED, Corey hollers as we scurry toward the front entrance after the last bell. He sprints ahead of me, racing toward the bike rack, pushing past kids that are pouring outside.

I’m coming. I’ve got to wait for my brother, anyway.

Buses are lined up along the outside corridor, waiting for the kids that live out of town. Parents are pulling around back to pick up the kids that need a ride. It feels good to be outside. School feels like a prison on days like this.

Come on, says Corey. Let’s get going before all the buses leave.

I glance back toward the doors. I can’t go without Pete. I hunch my heavy backpack up on my shoulders, and maneuver my bike away from the rack. His class has a sub, and they’re not out yet.

Are you chained to that kid, or what?

It feels like it. Ever since the accident, I’ve got almost no freedom at all. Every stinking day, I wait for Pete. I’ve got to escort him home. I’m even supposed to get off my bike and make sure he walks across the crosswalks. Geez.

I see a flash of bright hair. Sophie pushes open the heavy doors leading out of the building. She doesn’t get in line with the bus riders, and she doesn’t head toward the bikes. I wonder where she goes after school.

My eyes follow Sophie as she hustles down the outdoor corridor. When she’s almost to the very end, she looks back over her shoulder at me. Without thinking, I give her a half-way wave. She shoots a smile back in my direction, but then her head is down in an instant like it never happened.

Quit looking at that girl, says Corey. She’s bad news.

How do you mean?

I just heard stuff, that’s all. Take my word for it.

I shake my head, and watch as Sophie slinks around the corner of the building and is gone. But where does she go?

Did you get your homework done in class? says Corey.

Nah. I don’t get fractions at all. I don’t know why we have to learn all that stuff. It’s not like I’m gonna be an astronaut or a scientist, anyway. What do I need math for?

I hear you. Cordilini’s really into math. It’s lame, if you ask me.

Bus Number One revs up its noisy engine, and soon every bus in line starts belching out smoke.