“Whoops,” Clark said, looking chagrined. “Um, sorry. I guess I should have . . . It’s like he thinks it’s a game. Every time I try to get his leash on, he runs away.”
“Oh,” I said, looking in the direction where the dog had gone, like this would give me some more information. I took a step toward the kitchen door. “Should I—” Before I could say anything else, Bertie barreled in again, stopping in the center of the room, giving us both the dog smile I’d seen that first day with him. His tail was wagging so hard that his whole back half was swinging from side to side. I took a cautious step toward him, but Bertie jumped in the air and ran as fast as he could out the door again.
“He seems to calm down after a while,” Clark said. “But you can’t say that word. I usually spell it if I have to, like W-A . . .” He seemed to realize that he didn’t need to keep spelling “walk” for me and stopped talking, looking down at the kitchen floors.
“Right,” I said, hoping I seemed like I’d seen all this before and wasn’t totally thrown by it. “That, you know, happens sometimes.”
I looked over at Clark, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, and was suddenly aware of the strained silence between us. I’d had to interact with only one owner so far, and in that instance, the small talk had been totally handled by Maya and had revolved only around the dog. I looked to where Bertie had gone, like this would give me some indication of when he might be back again. “This is a great house,” I said, after trying for a moment to think of something I could say about a dog who wasn’t currently present.
“Oh, thanks,” Clark said, crossing his arms, then uncrossing them. “Yeah, it’s . . . good.”
Silence fell again, and I listened for the sound of paws scrabbling on the wooden floors, thinking that now would be a great time for Bertie to show up again. “Lots of books out there,” I said, gesturing toward the other room when I failed to think of anything else to say.
“Right,” Clark said, nodding a few too many times. “There are.”
Silence fell again, and I decided rather than continue to make insipid comments about the house, I was going to wait for Bertie to return.
Clark cleared his throat, then asked, “Uh—it’s Andie, right?”
I nodded, a little surprised that he’d remembered. I’d remembered his name, but that was because it made me think of mild-mannered reporters who were secretly superheroes. The glasses really weren’t helping to take away from that either. “Andie,” I confirmed. “You got it.”
Clark nodded, then took a breath. “This sounds really cliché, and that’s not how I mean it,” he said, all in a rush. “But you look . . . really familiar. And I know I saw you the other day, but I don’t think that’s it. . . .”
I nodded, taking a breath, prepared to jump right in. Topher would never tell people where they knew him or his mother from, would just look at them blankly like he had no idea as they stumbled through their polite confusion and leading questions. But I always nipped it in the bud. Even if it turned out that wasn’t what they were asking—because I actually knew them from mock trial semifinals, or something—I always led with my dad’s job. It was easier, and that was usually what people were trying to pin down anyway. I was on the verge of saying what I always said—My dad is Congressman Alexander Walker. Maybe you’ve seen me in his campaign ads?
But then I remembered the conversation I’d had with Maya and how now, in the wake of this scandal, the thing I’d been saying for most of my life whenever anyone asked about me—a description of my father’s job—was no longer relevant, or something I would want people to associate with me now.
I looked over at Clark, who was waiting for me to answer a not-that-difficult question, but then looked away. “Well—” I started, even though I had no clue what was going to follow this. Silence fell between us again, but I was saved from having to say anything else by Bertie flying back into the room. As though we’d discussed it beforehand, Clark and I jumped into action, moving toward the dog from opposite sides at the same time. This seemed to confuse him, and he froze, giving Clark the chance to grab his collar. Bertie, seeming to accept the game was now over, sat down and started enthusiastically licking Clark’s ear.