Logan picked up a box marked "Xmas" and moved it to the ladder. "Why?"
"Something about me being responsible for us getting asked to leave the campground."
"You got kicked out?"
"Asked to leave. It's different."
"Uh-huh." Logan plunked down on a box as his dad kept hunting.
"I just wanted to sleep. That's the idea of camping, right? You hike and swim and go for a run, and then you sleep at night. Except, we couldn't, because the people next to us sat around the campfire all night talking. Loudly. So I decided, if we were going to have a quiet night, I needed to move their beer."
"Steal it?"
"Move it."
"But how would that help? They could still have a fire and talk."
"Not without the beer."
"That doesn't make any sense."
Dad shrugged. "Some people . . ." His gaze went distant. Then he shook it off. "That's how it works with some people. The point of the campfire is the beer. Now, do I get to finish the story?"
"About how you stole their beer and got kicked out of the campground?"
"Moved. Asked to leave."
"There's a difference?"
"There is." Dad caught Logan's grin and gave him a mock glare. "I moved the beer to another site, where there happened to be a bunch of teenagers. If they chose not to find the rightful owners, that wasn't my fault."
"Did you get to sleep?"
"We did. It was very quiet . . . until the next day when the people next door saw the kids with their empties, and one of the girls who had seen me with the case ratted me out. Then we were asked to leave. So the moral of the story is . . ."
"Don't let anyone catch you when you move the beer?"
"Exactly. But the point is that I decided I'd show Jeremy I could go camping again by proving I was more responsible. I did more chores, and he let me go."
"It worked, then."
"Sure. After I broke a bunch of dishes, threw a red shirt in the white laundry and doubled the salt in the stew, Jeremy was just happy to get rid of me for the weekend."
"You're not really making your case here, Dad."
His father laid down the last of the boxes. "I'm kidding. Well, not entirely. I tried, though, and that was the main thing. The problem here, Logan, is that this isn't the same. I wasn't allowed to go camping because I messed up. You not being allowed to get a puppy has nothing to do with you messing up."
"Whoa. What? Puppy? No, I didn't say anything about--"
"You don't need to. It's the only thing you and your sister really want that we aren't giving you. Therefore, it's the only reason you'd suddenly decide you needed to show more responsibility. In this case, though, lack of responsibility has nothing to do with why we're saying no. I'm sure if you get a puppy, you'll look after it. Even Kate might laugh when her mom asks her to help Jeremy with dinner, but you know what? She went in and helped him. Irresponsibility with her is all about image."
Logan would have smiled at that, but his heart pounded too hard, seeing his puppy plan dissolve before his eyes.
"It's not about responsibility, Logan. It's about timing."
"I know." His voice was so soft even he barely heard it, because he did know that, and yet he'd told himself otherwise. Responsibility was something he could fix. Timing was not.
Dad sighed and lowered himself onto a crate opposite Logan. "Sometimes, when your mom says we'll talk about something later, what she really means . . ."