"No, no. Just restless, like Kate gets. Anyway, it's nice and quiet out here and . . ."
Mom chuckled. "And your sister will shatter that silence?"
"I just need time by myself to walk it off. I'll be in before it's totally dark. I promise."
"I know you will. And you are, as always, entitled to time on your own. I'll keep your sister at bay."
"Thanks, Mom."
He hung up. That should do the trick. Even for twins, Logan and his sister were close. Best friends who understood each other in a way no human playmate ever could. But Mom worried that they might need time to themselves now and again, especially as they got older. She'd keep Kate away. Now he had to figure out what to do.
Two days until Christmas. Two days to figure out how to tell his parents that he planned to give his sister a puppy.
His stomach twisted at the thought, because it felt disloyal and a little underhanded. No, a lot underhanded. They weren't saying, "No pets" without good reason. If he said he wanted to give this puppy to Kate, it would kill them to refuse.
What he needed was a defense. Not an impassioned plea, but a reasonable argument. Which meant he had two days to come up with a way to convince his parents, while not making them feel they'd been tricked into agreeing . . . or like they were monsters if they refused.
What to do with the puppy until then . . .
The playhouse.
He and Kate had a fort in the forest. Uncle Nick, Reese and Noah had built it for them a couple of years ago. Or they'd tried. When it failed to actually stand upright, they'd recruited Morgan, who had more experience with construction. The result was a perfect shelter from the elements. Also the perfect place to hide a puppy.
Putting the puppy in the fort was a fine idea . . . except that it required the cooperation of the other party, and the puppy was having none of it. After trying several times to leave the dog--only to have it start howling--Logan decided the answer was the same one his parents had used when their "puppies" wouldn't go to sleep.
He brought the dog into the snow and played with it, and while he told himself he was just trying to wear it out, he was a little disappointed when it did finally collapse, exhausted. He scooped it up and took it into the fort, where he'd made a nest with his hoodie, and the puppy fell into snoring slumber.
"I'll bring you food later," he whispered as he filled an old Frisbee with snow and mashed it down for drinking water.
Bringing food would mean sneaking out at night, and he hated that, but, if the alternative was letting a puppy starve, it really was no question at all. The rules had to be broken. Just this once.
Next, he had a much less pleasant task: burying the dead puppy. He did that, burying both the bag and the puppy deep in the snow across the road. Then, he started back to the house, deep in thought, until the smell of deer made him pause, instinctively lifting his face to inhale the scent.
Scent.
Oh no.
He stank of dog.
He looked up. Pine needles? Would that smell be strong enough? Maybe if he rubbed them on his clothes and then made a beeline for the shower. But how would he explain to Mom and Dad that he really needed to wash his clothing? By himself.
Well, I have to learn sometime, right?
Dad might let it pass, but Mom had a keenly tuned sense for when something wasn't quite right with her kids, and she'd sniff out answers like a hound on a trail.
What he needed was a dead animal. Gross, yes, but it would cover up the dog scent. When he sniffed the air, though, he picked up a smell that would do that job even better. Except . . .
He walked to the source of the scent, looked down and shuddered.
Kate had really better appreciate this Christmas gift.
"Oh my God," Kate said as Logan walked in the door. Her hand flew over her nose. "What the hell happened to you?"
"Kate!" Mom called. "Language."
"You said there's a time for cursing," Kate yelled back. "I think this is it. Logan's covered in deer poop."
Mom sighed, probably just relieved Kate had said "poop." Then she rounded the corner and stopped short, her hand flying up to her nose in a matching pose. "Oh my God, Logan."