Page 7 of Wallflower

"I've told you before, Dad. I prefer dogs over people. I mean, think about it: They're kinder than humans. They're more sympathetic. They're great listeners. They give affection without expecting anything in return, and they make life better for everyone. Dogs over people, one hundred percent."

My parents seemed to sigh as one.

In a small voice, Mom said, "But you might find someone you like."

"Doubtful," I said.

"Maybe even a boyfriend," Mom laughed as my dad blanched.

"Now, wait a minute," Dad said. "Who said anything about boyfriends? I'm actually glad she doesn't have one of those. I'd like you to keep it that way, Viola, until you're thirty or so if you can manage it. For my sanity."

"Oh no worries," I said. There hadn't been any guys in the past, and after today's debacle—which was a level of awkward for the record books—I didn't see that changing any time soon.

"You know," Dad said, "your mother wasn't popular in high school. She liked a lot of the same things you do, loved to read. And she had a great senior year."

Mom shrugged. "Yeah…but I had you."

"That you did."

His eyes softened as he looked at her.

"And we were best friends before it turned into anything more," she added.

Dad shook his head. "We were always more."

"You guys are too cute," I said, watching as he placed a kiss behind her ear. Mom seemed to shiver in response. "Unfortunately, I don't have a guy best friend. Darn."

"Honestly, I don't see why not," Dad said. "You're great, Vi. I'm surprised I haven't had to fight off the guys at Durham High with a stick."

I hated to burst his bubble, but… "Dad, the guys at school call me 'Dog Girl' behind my back."

"They what?!?"

I nodded.

"Who?" he said, sounding angry now. "I want their names, Vi. It better not be anyone on the team. They know my anti-bullying policy. Those little jerks."

"It's not, Dad." Surprisingly, this wasn't a lie. It was more the football players, who in addition to the nickname, thought it was the funniest thing to bark at me in the halls. Someone (my bet was on Whitney) had leaked the info about me working at the shelter, and posted very unflattering pictures on the school website. In one, I'd been covered in poop because one of our pups had had an accident. The dog treats I carried around in my pockets and forgot to take out at school probably didn't help. They'd been barking since freshman year. Not that I would tell my father. He looked upset enough already. "And I'm not giving you any of their names. I just want you to understand."

"But Vi—"

"I'm a loner, Dad. I don't have friends, and I'm okay with that."For the most part, I mentally added. "I'm just going to try and get through senior year with as little fuss as possible. That's my goal."

Dad still looked concerned, but before he could say anything, I stood, placed my plate in the sink and began walking to my room.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," I murmured. That was definitely enough truth for one day. "Love you."

"Okay, love you," Mom said.

"Hey Vi, I wanted to talk to you," Dad called. "I have kind of a big favor to ask."

I raised a hand as I neared my room.

"Whatever it is," I said over my shoulder, "I'll do it."

"It's a pretty big favor," he repeated.

"You're my favorite muggle, remember? Love you, Dad."

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