Four small puppies dash around an otherwise empty yard in a blur of brown and white.

I stand with my nose practically pushed up against the sliding glass door that separates John’s kitchen from the yard. He’s assured me it’ll be good for them to have a little time just to do their thing, without having humans hovering around always right behind them.

That’s more easily said than done.

“Reece…” John says softly from behind me. “They’re fine, I promise.” And I can see for myself that he’s right. Molly is busy tumbling around with one of her brothers while another tugs on her ear, trying to get in on the action. She’s having a great time.

“I know.” I say, making myself step away from the door, prying my eyes away from the backyard.

John is sitting at a small, wooden-slatted table. At his feet sits Poncho, a black dog who looks like some kind of retriever mix. The older dog snores on contentedly, probably glad for a puppy reprieve.

“I don’t get how you do this.” I admit, sitting down in the only other chair. While John hasn’t said so, I’m definitely getting the impression that only he and his mom live here–along with Poncho, two cats, a rabbit named Fredrick and for the next week or so, three puppies.

John tilts his head, but doesn’t ask the question out loud.

“Fostering. How do you get used to having a dog actually live with you, then having to say goodbye at the end?”

We’re past the halfway mark of our time with Molly. It’s killing me a little every time I think about handing her off to some new family and never seeing her again. It’s not like I can even ask them to send me updates just so I’ll know she’s okay.

Not to say that looking after her every waking moment when I’m home hasn’t been exhausting, it seems like that dog is always either eating, playing, or chewing on something she’s not supposed to. Even so, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for it to be over either.

John is still considering his answer. I’m fully expecting some sort of canned answer like he got used to it, or it’s all worth it because he knows they’ll be going to new homes.

“Honestly, it kind of sucks. This is more my mom’s thing. She's been doing it for as long as I can remember, pretty much since I’ve been old enough to know how to properly respect the animals in our house. I would have kept every single one of them.”

Okay, that doesn’t exactly make me feel better. I can definitely relate. I’m having a hard enough time going through this with just one dog, I have no idea how he manages with a steady stream of them coming in and out of his home all the time.

“Still, my mom always reminds me that every dog that goes to a new home makes room for one more whose life we may be able to save.”

There’s no chance to respond because without warning, Poncho jumps up from his spot under the table and sprints toward the front door of John’s open-floor-plan townhouse. A second later, I hear a key jiggling around in the lock and then a woman I don’t recognize steps through the threshold.

I know right away that this has to be John’s mom—and Kendra’s sister—but I never would have guessed. The woman walking toward us with a polite but slightly confused smile on her face is frail, with thin brown hair, hanging limp around her shoulders. A few visible lines run across her cheeks and out from the corners of her eyes. She has to be at least a decade older than my own parents, maybe even closer to two.

John stands up at once to take the grocery bags she’s holding and places them on the counter. “Mom, this is Reece, the girl I was telling you about. She brought Molly over for a playdate.” John turns to me before continuing, “She’s been obsessing over puppy pictures ever since the litter was dropped off. Reece, this is my mom, Carol.”

I put on a big smile, feeling myself shift into parent-mode. I want to make a good impression. But, Carol’s attention isn’t on me at all. She’s already looking outside at the puppies, squealing with a delight that makes her instantly seem far younger. “Oh she’s just perfect!” she says, her voice nearing a whisper.

“She really is.” I agree. At the sound of my voice, John’s mom turns toward me and reaches out to shake my hand. She has a surprisingly firm grip.

“I heard about your daring puppy hunt. It was such a good thing you did.” The older woman’s brown eyes are shining a little as she speaks, enough that I have to wonder if she’s on the verge of tears. “You may have saved those puppies lives.”

“I only did what anyone… It was no pro—thank you. I’m just glad I got there when I did.”

The three of us chat for nearly an hour, long after all four puppies have passed out in a pile in the yard, shaded from the summer sun by their neighbor’s oak tree. It turned out that John’s mother had been rescuing animals for years before her son was even born. It’s a passion she had shared with Kendra since the two of them were children, even though their younger brother was allergic to animals and neither one of them had pets of their own, until they had moved out.

Most of the stories are happy—saved lives, families finding their perfect furry companions—however, she hints at a few sadder stories as well. I make a point of not following up. There’s no way I’m in any sort of headspace to deal with sad stories about dogs or anyone else right now. Either way, I’m so beyond impressed. It’s easy to see just how much John looks up to his mother as well. From the sound of it, it has been just the two of them for a long time, with so much of their lives revolves around rescue work.

Eventually, I have to get going to do some rescue work of my own.

“Time for me to head home,” I say when the conversation finally lulls, moving toward the back door to go get Molly. “I have to drop this rugrat off at home and then go into the shelter for a few hours. I’d say we should do this again, but Kendra has already had dozens of applications for each puppy, so I’m guessing they’ll all be with their new families by next week.” I try to keep the quiver out of my voice as I speak, but I’m not sure how well it’s working.

Yeah. I don’t want to think about it.

I get home far later than planned. So much for going over to Tessa's house for dinner.

Simon, an orange tabby that has lived at the shelter for a couple of months now, managed to get into… something. Neither Kendra nor I could really guess what. He projectile vomited all over the cat room, so I was just lucky enough to have it happen during my volunteer shift. So, I got to clean it all up. For two hours.

Then he threw up again.

Yeah, I’m going to need a shower.

Even though it's just after eight at night by the time I get home, the house seems unusually quiet as I shut the front door behind me, kicking off my shoes.

I glance in the living room before calling out, seeing my dad fast asleep on the couch. Molly is curled up in a ball on his chest and seems to be dozing as well.

I tiptoe away again, hoping they will both stay asleep long enough that I can make it all the way upstairs, turning on the shower before anyone realizes I’m back.

Instead, it's not the warm embrace of a hot shower that greets me when I make it up to my bedroom. Even though the room I share with Reilly is usually a mess, I can tell right away that something is different. This is bad, even for us.

Scraps of cloth and plastic lay just about everywhere, from the floor to my bedspread to the open door leading to the bathroom that separates our room from our sisters’.

Somehow, I don’t think it’s my sister that made the mess.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Okay, first question. How did nobody notice this? Second question. Where is my family?

I catch sight of my mom’s favorite sunglass sitting in three different pieces at the foot of Reilly’s bed, knowing there’s no chance of me covering any of this up.

Going through the bathroom to the bedroom facing the front of the house, I quickly find a lump in Rhiannon’s bed that I assume is my sister. So that’s a total of half my family that’s accounted for, plus one puppy. So why is no one here and yelling at me for letting this happen yet?

More confused than anything, I head upstairs to the attic that we’re currently using as extra space for me and my sisters. We’ve set up a few extra couches there along with all of our computers. I find Reilly upstairs alone at her computer, large headphones on over her medium-brown hair—the same color that mine used to be before I started lightening it as a way to stand out from my sisters.

I try to make noise as I approach, but when I put my hand down on Reilly’s shoulder, she still jumps in surprise. Whipping her head around, Reilly’s eyes lock on my own and she instantly relaxes. “You scared me!”

“Sorry! I didn’t know how else to get your attention. Where is everyone?”

Reilly looks around as though only just realizing she’s alone in the room. “Uhh… Reagan is at Rosie’s house with Kent. Mom’s still at work. No idea about Dad and Rhi.”

“Both asleep. Molly too.” I stare at my sister for a long moment, trying to see if the dog’s name triggers any kind of response.

She sees through my ploy immediately. “Mom and Dad both saw what happened. They’re leaving it for you to clean up.”

I groan and throw my head back. “I’m sorry.” I apologize again. “Did she get any of your stuff?”

“No, actually. At least nothing I saw. I think she was actually finding stuff in other rooms and bringing them to our room before she destroyed them. Maybe she was trying to hide the evidence.”

“Well, she should have done a better job of that part! Why wasn’t anyone watching her?” I try to take the accusation out of my voice. Whatever happened, she’s my responsibility. I do want to know exactly how chaos got unleashed in our bedroom.

Reilly shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, that is just not that helpful.” I make an exaggerated nervous, lip-biting face at Reilly before retreating back downstairs, already trying to prepare myself for the lecture I’m sure to get when my mom gets home.

Dad will probably just pretend to stay asleep until that happens so he doesn’t have to do the confrontation thing on his own.

At least that gives me some time to clean things up first.

It’s possible I had underestimated just how thorough Molly was in her destruction.

Two tubes of chapstick, both completely empty now—probably devoured—sit beside my dresser. My bed hides one of my dad’s slippers, which thankfully don’t seem to be damaged, probably just hidden away so Molly could chew on it later.

I’ve only just picked up every scrap of what I think might actually be one of Rhiannon’s homework assignments, when I hear the garage door open followed by the telltale creak of someone getting up from the couch downstairs.

Three excited yips from Molly follow in quick succession.

I still haven’t had my shower!

As soon as my dad sees me reach the main floor, he starts busying himself with a stack of magazines on the coffee table. I can practically hear his train of thought from here… Yes, yes. Very busy. Can’t talk now.

It’s not entirely believable, but he sticks to it like he’s going for an Oscar. I give him a tight smile when he accidentally catches my eye when I call for Molly to follow me into the kitchen, then onto the backyard. She’s probably long overdue for a pee-break, and me doing something responsible when Mom comes in can’t hurt.

I place Molly on the grass and move back to the porch, not having even thought to put on socks let alone shoes. The dog pees right away. I’m a little disappointed not to have more time to come up with something to say to diffuse the lecture that is coming for me.

The front door shuts from inside the house.

Time’s up.

Both of my parents are already in the kitchen when I get back inside, Molly in my arms.

I swear she feels like she’s already twice as big as she was when I first saw her.

“I cleaned everything up already.” I say before either of my parents can speak, putting Molly back on the floor. She immediately runs toward a tennis ball that has rolled into the corner and swats it with her paw. “I am so, so sorry!” I continue.

I study my mom’s expression. While she does look a little tired, she also seems more confused than angry.

She looks over at my dad. “What did I miss? What is she apologizing for?”

Dad only shrugs.

Are they messing with me? I wouldn’t put it past them. I keep silent, not wanting to walk into whatever trap they’re leaving for me.

The punchline never comes. Maybe they’re both more tired than I was giving them credit for.

“The mess Molly made upstairs…”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” my mom answers. “I’ve been gone all day, remember?” Right. So she just doesn’t know I’m in trouble yet. I’m not sure that’s much better.

“That was my fault.” Dad jumps in, completely nonchalant. “I got a phone call and put her in the bathroom to keep her out of trouble, but, one of the doors wasn’t as closed as I thought. I had meant to clean it up, but we fell asleep on the couch. I do appreciate you cleaning it up though.”

Mom puts her purse down on the couch before sitting down at our kitchen table. “There was something we wanted to discuss with you though.”

What. Is. Happening.

“Uh, sure.” I answer, still just trying to keep up.

“I’m going to tell you something. You're going to get over-excited. But, there’s going to be a ‘but’ afterward. So brace yourself.”

“Consider me braced.”

My dad grins, interrupting before my mom can continue. “We are open to the idea of keeping Molly.”

“What!?” I’m jumping up and down before the word even leaves my mouth. I’m definitely freaking out the dog.

My dog. I get to keep her!

My parents are still talking, I don’t even hear them.

“But…” Mom says, louder now. Bringing me right back down to earth. They only said they were open to it. If I don’t calm down, I could screw this all up.

“Sorry, sorry.” I am apologizing way more often than usual today, but if keeping Molly is the end result, I’ll do it forever. Wait. No. Listening. “But…?”

“First, she would be our dog… Molly Donovan, not Molly, Reece’s Minion. That would mean we all split the responsibilities, while your mother and I handle the financial side. When you eventually move away, she stays here.”

“Consider it a bribe to make sure you come back to visit.” Mom chimes in.

Okay… not ideal. Although, if that’s all they’re asking, I’m so in.

“Sure!” I agree, too quickly. Mom is pressing her lips together, watching for my reaction. There’s something bigger coming. “What else?”

“We’ve been talking.” she says. Well, that can’t be good. “While we absolutely admire how fully you’ve thrown yourself into taking care of Molly, your volunteer work, soccer and making new friends in Fairview… well, you see my point.” I really didn’t, but I wasn’t dumb enough to open my mouth. “We think you’re taking on too much. If we’re going to keep Molly permanently, we need you to take a step back from something else in exchange.”

My eyes narrow, not at all liking where this is going. “Soccer?” I ask, already torn in two.

“No, absolutely not.” Dad holds up a hand as though to stop or calm me. “Your dedication to athletics is absolutely admirable, it will be an asset to you as you start applying to college.”

Mom jumps in. “There are other things to consider since colleges will be looking at your applications…”

“Like what?”

“Like grades, Reece. Your grades were consistently the lowest of the four of you last year, you can’t afford to let them slip any further.”

“I thought you didn’t compare us to one another.” I retort automatically. The high I was feeling a minute ago is completely gone now. I’m going to have to make a choice, but I already know I’d give almost anything to get to keep Molly.

What am I going to have to sacrifice?

“Just pull the band-aid off.” I say, trying so hard not to be rude. This is seriously torture.

“Dating.” my mom says. “We want you to give up dating for the first semester of this academic year.”

My mouth drops open.