CHAPTER 1

It was only fireworks. Can you believe it?

Six kids, including me, ended up in the hospital because some dummy decided to shoot off firecrackers in the middle of a hallway fight.

Here’s how it all went down. It was Friday, lunch time. My best friend Mo and I were at our lockers, planning a trip over the weekend to a new skate park that just opened near my house. And then there was shouting up the hall, and someone yelled “Fight!” Kids started streaming by us to catch the action, chattering in excitement.

“It’s probably Devin Rose again,” Mo said, closing his locker. “You wanna go watch, Bobby?”

Devin Rose was the biggest bully at Westlake High. Not a day went by that he didn’t try to pick a fight with someone. Thankfully, he had never singled out Mo or me. We made a point to stay under his radar.

“Nah,” I said. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to lunch.”

We turned and headed in the other direction. Mr. Pitt, our principal, passed us with a worried look, followed by Coach Wilson. Devin Rose is the quarterback on our football team and Coach Wilson is the only reason Devin hasn’t been kicked out of school yet.

We almost made it to the cafeteria.

There was a loud bang up the hall where the fight was, and then two more. BANG! BANG! Someone yelled “Gun!”

I almost had a heart attack. Everyone started running and screaming. Mo’s a sprinter on the track team and he took off ahead of me. I tried to keep up, but I’m not an athlete. Golf is more my speed. My heart was pounding out of my chest and my legs felt like lead. With each step that passed I got slower and slower, like I was running through quicksand. It didn’t take long for a mob of sweaty kids to surround me, all frantic to get to the front doors of the school. I could barely breathe in the crush of bodies pushing and pulling me every which way.

“Mo!” I yelled. “Mo!”

But I couldn’t see him anymore. I tripped over someone’s foot and went down. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up in the ambulance.

When I fell, it was like dominos. Kids piled on top of kids and I was all the way at the bottom. The ER doc said I was really lucky that I just ended up with a concussion. It could have been a lot worse. Still, every time I think about what happened I get this panicky feeling inside like there’s a swarm of bees buzzing around my stomach.

I stayed in the hospital Friday night for observation. My epic weekend with Mo turned out to be a non-starter. Mom and Dad wouldn’t even let Mo come over, which was probably for the best since I had a monster headache.

Now it’s Monday and my headache is gone, but I still have that panicky feeling. How am I supposed to go to school and act like nothing’s happened?

Mom drops me off which is great because I was too jittery to walk to school. Mo meets me at the front door. We head to the cafeteria to grab a doughnut before first period just like we always do. I’ve eaten a Boston Cream every day since the first day of school, but today I can’t stomach it. The cafeteria is too crowded. Too crazy. Anytime someone yells or bangs their tray on a table, I jump in my seat like I just got Tasered.

The bell rings and my anxiety level flies off the charts.

“You okay, Bobby?” Mo says. “You look kind of pale.”

I’m not okay. Not even close. But I’m too embarrassed to tell Mo how scared I am. I don’t want him to think I’m a giant baby. Everyone else in school is acting like nothing’s happened. What’s wrong with me?

“Nah, I’m good.” With trembling fingers, I grab my backpack off the floor. “Let’s go.”

When we walk out of the cafeteria and into the hall, I break into a sweat. It’s even louder out here and I swear the hall is narrower than it used to be. What will happen if someone sets off another firecracker? I mean, they never caught the person who did it. Maybe he or she is planning to do it again. Will everyone start running and…

A voice blasts out of the overhead speaker and I jump a mile.

“Did you hear that?” Mo says. “Pitt wants us all to go to the auditorium. He probably wants to talk about what happened on Friday.”

I can’t wrap my head around it. The whole school in one room, packed in like sardines? Is he serious?

I push past Mo. “Save me a seat. I’m going to the bathroom.”

Mo’s jaw drops. “For real, dude?”

“I—I’ll be there in a minute.”

I head for the bathroom, but before I get there I turn and look back. There is no sign of Mo. I walk right past the bathroom and out the front doors of the school.

CHAPTER TWO

Guess where I am? Afternoon detention.

That’s not even the worst part. Devin Rose is sitting right behind me. He keeps throwing spitballs at me and calling me “Bobby the Baby” under his breath. This is a terrible turn of events. How did I even end up on Devin Rose’s radar? I swear he can smell fear. That’s how he picks his victims. And ever since the day I got crushed in the crowd after the fight, I’ve been terrified.

It’s been over a week since it happened. That first day, when I bailed on school, I convinced my mom that my headache had come back. She let me stay home for a couple of days. Even took me for an MRI. But when that came back negative (which meant there was nothing wrong with me), she started giving me weird looks. So I went back to school. What else could I do?

Another spitball hits the back of my head. Bobby snickers. My stomach clutches. The library is hotter than a sauna. And it’s so crowded. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck. We still have thirty minutes to go. It might as well be forever.

When I got back to school, Mo told me that Mr. Pitt said he was beefing up security in the halls to avoid another “incident.” Incident, ha. More like a horror show. Anyway, I figured he was just blowing smoke. Boy, was I wrong. During third period today, one of his new security guards caught me hiding in the bathroom instead of taking an algebra test. This dude was scary. Buzz cut, tattooed arms. He looked like The Rock. And he must have been deaf, too. Because he didn’t listen to any of my excuses. Just took me straight to Mr. Pitt, who gave me afternoon detention.

Twenty-five minutes to go.

Something hits me in the back, bigger than a spitball this time. I glance at the floor. A crumpled piece of notebook paper lies next to my foot. I pick it up and smooth it out. On the paper, Devin has written “Scaredy cat!” and drawn a picture of a firecracker with the word “Boom!” underneath it.

My face gets hot and my hands go cold. How does Devin know there’s something wrong with me? My parents don’t even know yet. I think Mo suspects but he’s too nice to say anything. But is it that obvious? Does the whole school know what a wreck I am? It’s like I have a giant “L” for loser stamped on my forehead.

I jump out of my seat.

Ms. Myers, the librarian, flicks a glance at me. “Sit down, Bobby.”

But I can’t. The walls are closing in on me. I have to get out of here.

Ms. Myers stands up. “I said, sit down.” Her voice is sharp.

Devin Rose starts to laugh. And suddenly it’s like the whole world is laughing at me. The sound rises and swells and fills my brain until I can’t stand it anymore. I put my hands over my ears and start to scream.

I don’t remember how I ended up in the nurse’s office. Everything is quiet. I’m on a cot, underneath a blanket. My hands are still over my ears. Did I just have a major freak out in the library? The last thing I remember is Devin Rose laughing…

I take my hands off my ears. Someone is talking in the other room. I think it’s Mr. Cruz, my guidance counselor. And—oh, no. Not my parents. They are going to kill me.

The next thing I know, they’re all in the room, staring down at me. My parents don’t look mad, though. They seem more like worried.

“Bobby,” Mom says. Her hair is messy and her eyes are red.

I sit up on the cot so that my legs dangle over the edge, and wonder for a second what happened to my shoes.

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry,” I say.

Mr. Cruz sits down next to me on the cot. He’s an older guy, going gray. He pushes his silver-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“There’s no need to be sorry, son,” he says. “I’m fairly certain that you had a panic attack. Your parents tell me you were in the thick of things during that incident in the hallway a few days ago. Got a concussion.”

It all comes back to me again—the loud bangs, the kids screaming, the crush of people on top of me…

My hands start to shake. “I know it wasn’t a real gun, Mr. Cruz. But for a few minutes it was real. I—I thought I was going to get shot—”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling this way?” Mom asks.

“I thought something was wrong with me, Mom. I thought I was a freak.”

“You’re not a freak,” Mr. Cruz says. “You have what’s called PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It happens when a person like yourself experiences a frightening event.”

“What can we do?” Dad asks.

“Counseling will help,” Mr. Cruz replies. “But—I have another idea.”

‘What is it?” I say. “I’ll try anything.”

He smiles. “I think you’d be a great candidate for a therapy dog.”

CHAPTER THREE

My therapy dog is a black lab named Ollie. He stands about two feet tall at his shoulder and weighs sixty pounds. His fur is the color of charcoal and his eyes are caramel brown. Oh, and have I mentioned that he’s super cool?

It took a couple of weeks to get Ollie, but Mr. Cruz says I was really lucky to get him so fast. It just so happened that the local Canine Companions, who train therapy dogs, had Ollie available after another owner changed his mind at the last minute.When Ollie and I met, we just clicked. This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

I haven’t been back to school since my panic attack, but I’ve been busy. I’ve been going to a doctor who Mr. Cruz said would help me with my PTSD. He wrote me a prescription for a therapy dog. Isn’t that funny? It’s like Ollie is my medicine.

I’ve also been going every day to Canine Companions to work with Ollie and his trainer. There’s so much to learn about taking care of a dog. But there’s also a ton of stuff to learn about how he’s going to take care of me.

Mo has been stopping by my house every day to bring me my homework. Today when he comes, I introduce him to Ollie, who is stretched out at my feet. Mo reaches a hand down to pet him but I stop him.

“We’re not supposed to treat him like a regular dog,” I say. “He’s a working dog. Taking care of me is his job now.”

Mo laughs. “You should find the kid that set off those firecrackers and give him a high five, dude. You’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Right?” I look down at Ollie. I still can’t believe how this happened so fast.

Mo sits down in a chair across from me. “You really think he’s going to help?”

“Are you kidding? Ollie’s amazing. His trainer took us to the mall yesterday and as soon as Ollie sensed I was getting anxious in the crowd he started whining and nudging me to go down a hall where there were fewer people. I stood there and did some deep breathing, and in a few minutes, I was fine.”

“Wow, that’s crazy! So, are you ready to go back to school tomorrow?”

I hesitate. “I know that Ollie will help me with my PTSD. But what about Devin Rose?”

Mo waves his hand. “Don’t worry about him. It’s been two weeks. I’m sure he’s moved on to his next victim by now.”

The first couple of days back, I’m sure that Mo is right. Strangely, Devin Rose is not around to bother me. And, although it’s a little awkward taking a dog to my classes, everyone is accepting of Ollie. I mean, it’s no different than if I were blind and had a seeing-eye dog, right? There are therapy dogs for all kinds of problems.

On the third day, though, disaster strikes. Because suddenly Devin Rose is everywhere. Turns out he was on a college visit in another state. And he hasn’t forgotten about me or moved on to a new victim.

I think he actually memorized my schedule. Because he finds me after every class and follows me down the hall calling me “Baby” and “Sissy” and other words that are even worse. I’m shaking by the time we get to lunch. Ollie keeps whining and nudging me with his nose. He knows I’m close to a panic attack.

Which is why I should never have gone into the cafeteria. I thought I would be safe there, that Devin wouldn’t try something in such a crowded place. I forgot he likes an audience.

“Fraidy cat,” he snickers behind me as I get in line for school lunch. When I ignore him, he pushes me hard in the back. I almost knock down the girl standing in front of me.

“Stop it,” I say, turning to Devin.

His grin is pure evil. The dude even looks like the devil—he has dark hair and eyes, and always wears black, except on game days. “What’s wrong, Bobby? Are you scared?”

“I’m not—”

He puts his hands over his ears, just like I did when I was having my panic attack. “Help me, help me,” he squeals. “I’m scared of school because someone set off a firecracker.”

The kids around us laugh. Everyone in the cafeteria has stopped to watch. My hands clench and my face flames. Ollie starts to whine.

I step out of line and Devin blocks our way. Ollie moves in front of me and lets out a low growl. Devin takes a step back. “What, so you need a dog to protect you? Jeez, what a loser.”

“Leave us alone,” I stammer.

Devin laughs. He paces in front of me, keeping an eye on Ollie.

A crowd gathers around us. I look for Mo or another friendly face but I can’t see anyone I know. Someone yells “Fight!” and that whole horrible day comes back to me in a rush. The room starts to spin…

Ollie barks and nudges my hand.

“I have to go,” I say. My breathing is getting raspy, and I think I might throw up. Why is it so hot in here?

“Let him go, Devin,” someone in the crowd says. “He looks sick.”

The security guard who put me in detention pushes through the crowd. “What’s going on here? Everyone, get back to your tables.”

Devin smirks and waves his hand at me. “Fine. Whatever. Leave, you big baby.”

Boy, am I glad that security guard showed up. But why is he walking away already? Does he really think Devin will listen to him? I have to get out of here. Like yesterday.

We almost make it. I’m just slinking by Devin when he grabs a carton of milk off someone’s tray and dumps it all over my head. I gasp as the coldness seeps down the back of my neck. I can’t breathe…

Everything after that happens in slow motion. The cafeteria erupts with laughter and Ollie’s pulling me to the door and I stumble into the hallway. Someone grabs my arm but I’m falling and then the world goes black.

CHAPTER FOUR

I wake to Ollie licking my face. Mo is leaning over me.

“Bobby, are you okay?” he asks.

“I—what happened?”

“I got to the cafeteria just in time to see Devin Rose pour milk all over you. You were kind of losing it and Ollie pulled you out of the cafeteria. I followed you guys and then you fainted…”

It all comes back then—Devin pushing me into that girl and dumping milk on my head, Ollie growling, and everyone in the cafeteria laughing their heads off. At me.

I have never been one of the cool kids. I go to class, hang around with Mo, and try not to embarrass myself on the golf team. I get very little attention and I like it that way. But now the whole school knows who I am, and I’m nothing but a big joke.

“I hate Devin Rose,” I say.

“If it makes you feel any better, the security guard took him to the office.”

“You know he won’t get in trouble. There’s a big game on Friday.” I scramble to my feet. “I’m going home.”

“You don’t have to,” Mo says. “I have an old shirt in my locker you can wear.”

“It’s not that. I just—can’t be here anymore.”

“You should at least get lunch first. You’re really pale.”

“I’m not going back in there,” I say, looking at the cafeteria doors. “I was just humiliated in front of the whole school.”

“Let’s go hang in the library then. We can get a pass from Mr. Cruz. We’ll sit there until we figure this whole thing out.”

“What whole thing?”

“How to take down Devin Rose.”

The next day when I get up for school, I’m a jittery mess. Can I really walk into that cafeteria again, even with Mo behind me? I can’t take much more humiliation. Wouldn’t it be better if my mom homeschooled me? Or I transferred to a private school?

Just then, Ollie nudges my hand and I reach down and put my hand on his head. As soon as I touch his soft fur, my jitters subside. Ollie wasn’t scared of Devin yesterday. Not one little bit. He stepped in front of me and growled at him. If Ollie can face Devin Rose, then so can I.

When I get to school, Mo meets us at the front door.

“Devin’s in the cafeteria,” he says.

“Already? I—thought I would wait until lunch.”

“No time like the present, dude.”

Again, I second guess myself and again I reach down and touch Ollie’s fur. It’s going to be okay. With Ollie and Mo by my side, I can do this.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

My heart in my throat, we walk into the cafeteria.

Inside, it’s mid-level chaos. Devin’s across the room, sitting at a table full of football players with his back to me. I break out in a cold sweat. As I inch slowly around the perimeter of the room, I’m glad that no one pays any attention to me.

Just as I’m about to reach Devin’s table, Mo appears holding a carton of milk. He hands it to me.

Go for it,” he whispers.

I stare down at the carton of milk in my hand. It seemed like a good idea when we talked it over in the library yesterday. Payback. An eye for an eye. But now it just seems mean. It’s not me. I don’t want to be like Devin Rose.

One of the football players at Devin’s table sees me and says something to Devin. Devin turns.

“What the…?” Devin jumps out of his chair. He sees the carton of milk in my hand and laughs. “Were you going to throw that milk on me? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I can barely hear him over the pounding of my heart, but when I reply my voice is calm. “No, because I’m not a jerk like you are.”

He walks toward me with his fists up. “I’m going to pound you into the ground for that.”

Ollie steps in front of me and growls at Devin.

Devin throws up his hands in frustration. “Are you always going to hide behind that dog?”

“Why? Are you scared?” I say.

Someone laughs, and Devin’s face flushes. A crowd has gathered around us, and kids are murmuring. Panic rises in me, but I push it away.

“I don’t need to hide behind anyone.” I turn and hand Ollie’s leash and the carton of milk to Mo.

Devin puts up his fists again. “Let’s go, then.”

“Sure, I’ll fight you,” I say. “And you’ll win because you’re bigger than me. That’s what you do, Devin. You only pick on kids that are smaller than you. Because you’re a bully and bullies are cowards.”

Devin’s eyes are wide and his face is a deep purple. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“Everyone’s scared of something. I know I am. I thought I was going to die that day when the firecrackers went off. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now. That’s why I need a therapy dog. You think it’s cool to pick on kids with disabilities?”

Devin looks around at the crowd as if he’s looking for someone to rescue him. No one says a word.

“Sissy,” he says.

He takes a step toward me. I am about to die.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! A horrible sound accompanied by flashing lights floods my brain and I clap my hands over my ears. It’s the fire alarm. Devin points his finger at me and laughs, just as the sprinklers in the ceiling activate and water sprays everywhere. Everyone starts screaming and stampeding out of the cafeteria. It’s my worst nightmare all over again.

I try to move but my feet must be glued to the floor. Then Mo grabs my arm. “Let’s get out of here!” His hair is plastered to his forehead.

I frantically look around. “But where’s Ollie?”

“I don’t know. I dropped the leash when the sprinklers went off.”

My heart lurches. “Mo! How could you?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find him on the way out.”

We stumble toward the exit, trying not to slip in the puddles on the floor. Kids are pushing and shoving and progress is slow. I still can’t see Ollie anywhere. My breaths come hard and fast, but I’m determined not to have a panic attack.

At the door, Mo turns to check on me and his eyes widen.

“Bobby, look!” he says, pointing.

As the last of the kids scramble out of the cafeteria, there’s only one kid left besides us. It’s Devin. He’s on the floor in the middle of the room, passed out cold. He must have slipped in the water and fallen. Ollie’s beside him, whimpering and pushing him and licking his face. All of a sudden, the sprinklers stop and the alarm goes off. Sirens wail outside.

Devin stirs and Ollie lets out a short, sharp bark. By the time we reach them, Devin’s sitting up, his arm around Ollie. Mo and I grab Devin’s arms and help him stand. He has a bump on his forehead and his eyes are glassy.

We walk out together, Devin’s arms around our shoulders. The rest of the school is out on the front lawn watching as firefighters with long hoses spray the roof. Holy cow! There really was a fire.

Coach Wilson spies us and hurries over. “Thank heavens,” he says, taking Devin’s arm. “I got him from here, fellas.”

Just as they turn away, Devin looks back at me.

“Thanks, Bobby,” he says. “I think your dog might have saved my life.”

“No worries,” I say, grinning. I reach down and touch Ollie’s soft fur. “I think he saved mine, too.”