Read Online The Unexpected Everything by Morgan Matson - Free Book Online Page A

We’d never had one when I was growing up, and none of my friends had dogs either. Palmer’s family had cats that were semi-feral and came and went as they pleased, and Bri had Miss Cupcakes, evil feline. Nathan Trenton, who I’d dated sophomore year, had a really awesome mutt that I’d loved. Nathan used to complain that I was more excited to see his dog than to see him, and when I’d realized that was true, I’d broken up with him.
    I moved carefully toward the dog, whose tail was still thumping on the ground. It was looking right at me, mouth open and tongue hanging out, and I could have sworn that it was smiling at me. I reached out slowly, keeping eye contact as I inched my way closer.
    â€œBirdie!” This was yelled out in a loud, panicky voice, and I turned around to see a guy running up the street, lookingaround frantically. When he saw the dog, I could see his shoulders slump with relief, even from a distance. He started running faster, and I turned back to the dog, which was when I noticed two things at almost exactly the same time.
    One, the dog was getting ready to run again, apparently convinced that his favorite game had taken on a new and exciting layer. And two, there was a car heading down the street toward us, going much faster than it should have been.
    I moved without even realizing I was going to. Going on instinct and panic, I ran toward the dog and grabbed its leash in my hand, then pulled him across the road. I felt the dog resist at first, but then it must have thought this was a fun idea, because it started running, first next to me, then past me, pulling me off my feet. I hit the ground just as I heard a screech of brakes and a guy yelling, “Hey!” I saw the car swerve, then head off down the street again, still going too fast.
    The dog started covering my face in slobbery kisses, and I pushed it off as I sat up, still holding on to the leash in case he—because I could see now that it was a he—made another run for it. He was big—he had to be at least a hundred pounds, maybe more—with fluffy white hair and a nose that was probably black at one point but was now mostly pink. He had a tail that curled up over his back, black eyes, and stubby white eyelashes. He had not stopped moving for a moment, jumping to his feet, then sitting down and trying to kiss me again, like he was thrilled with the way everything had turned out, his smile still in place.
    â€œCalm down,” I said as I released my grip on the leash slightly. I wiped the dirt and gravel off on my jeans, then reachedout and patted the dog’s head, even though he probably didn’t deserve it. His tail started thumping on the ground more rapidly, and he tilted his head to the side, like he was showing me that I should really be petting him by his ears.
    â€œBirdie!” The guy who had yelled before was running up to us, sounding half out of breath. “I’m so sorry—are you—okay? Is he?” He stopped and bent halfway over, his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.
    â€œI’m fine,” I said as I pushed myself up to standing. I was okay—like, I might have a bruise on my hip tomorrow, but otherwise fine. The dog looked up at me with his head cocked to the side, and I had to admit, he was pretty cute. For a moment I felt sorry that he had been saddled with such a stupid name. I mean, Birdie? For a dog? I brushed off my hands and then rubbed the dog’s ears once more. His hair was soft and silky, and there was so much of it—like if this dog got wet, he’d only be about half this size. I noticed a tag hanging from his green leather collar, a round gold disk with BERTIE in engraved capitals. So that at least made a little more sense than Birdie . But not by much. “Here,” I said, holding out the leash to the guy, who was still trying to get his breath back. I wasn’t going to be rude—that had been drilled out of me