“Alright,” Derek breathed, sitting back in the mud. “Alright. You’re okay.”
He rested for a few minutes, then gathered himself, scooped the dog into his arms, and carried it to the nearest animal shelter a few blocks away. He handed the animal over to a staff member, turned down offers to be recognized, and stepped back out into the cold afternoon air.
He walked home slowly, each breath a little harder than the last, one hand pressed quietly against his chest.
That night at dinner, his mother looked at him across the table.
“You look pale,” she said. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he said, and smiled at her. “Just tired from school.”
He coughed once into his sleeve and said nothing else.
Derek was still in bed the next morning when he heard his mother’s voice from the front of the house. Her voice sounded like something unexpected had happened.
He got up slowly, pulled on a hoodie, and walked down the hall.
Through the front window, he could see a sleek black SUV parked along the curb outside their modest home, the kind of vehicle that looked completely out of place on their street. His mother was standing in the open doorway, and a sharply dressed man in a dark suit was standing on their front step.
Derek came up beside his mother, and the man’s eyes shifted immediately to him.
“Are you Derek?” the man asked.
“Yeah,” Derek said carefully. “That’s me.”
The man looked at him for a moment. “You have no idea whose dog you saved last evening. Wanna take a ride with me?”
