Summer of Stray Texts

The notification lit up my iPhone screen at 2:47 AM.

*hey u up?*

My heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did when Marcus texted. I stared at his message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Of course I was up. I was always up these days, overthinking every interaction, replaying conversations that definitely didn't matter as much as my brain thought they did.

Outside, thunder cracked. Great. Just great.

I was halfway through typing a response that was equal parts cool and pathetic when I heard it — a pathetic whine from the backyard. Not thunder. Definitely not thunder.

I crept downstairs in my socks, phone still clutched in my hand like a lifeline. The backyard was a disaster zone from the storm earlier, water pooling in every dip of the uneven grass. And there, shivering under the porch, was the scrawniest dog I'd ever seen.

"Hey, buddy," I whispered.

He looked like he'd been through hell and back. Matted fur, ribs visible, one ear that refused to stand up. But his eyes — his eyes were all hope. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for someone to notice him.

*Marcus is typing...*

My phone vibrated in my hand. I ignored it.

The dog bolted when I stepped closer, running toward the back fence with a limp that made my chest hurt. I followed without thinking, chasing him through the downpour, water soaking my pajama bottoms, squishing into my socks with every step.

"Wait!" I called out. "I just want to help!"

He stopped at the neighbor's property line, turned, and tilted his head like he was actually considering my offer. And that's when I saw it — the way the streetlamp caught his scruffy face, the defiance in his stance despite everything.

"You're a fighter, huh?" I said softly.

I approached slowly, held out my hand. He sniffed it, cautious but curious. When his wet nose finally brushed my palm, something in my chest settled.

*You okay? Haven't heard from u*

Marcus again. I glanced at my phone, then back at the dog.

"You know what?" I told him, scratching behind his good ear. "I'm done waiting for people who don't see me."

I typed back: *found something better. ttyl*

The dog leaned into my touch, and for the first time all summer, I didn't feel like I was running toward something I couldn't quite reach. I was exactly where I needed to be.

Mom found us like that an hour later — me, soaked to the bone, curled on the porch with a stray dog eating the vitamin-D fortified cereal I'd smuggled outside.

"Alex Jordan Chen," she said. "Please tell me you're not keeping that dog."

I looked at the scruffy creature who'd somehow pulled me out of my own head. "Actually," I said, "I think he's keeping me."