'Tell him to offer minimum wage. Then he'd really complain. Even high school kids don't want to clean the cages anymore. They say it's gross."

"Its grass."

Beth laughed. "Yeah, it is," she admitted. "But I'm out of time. I doubt if anything will change before next week, and if it doesn't, there are worse things. I do enjoy training the dogs. Half the time they're easier than students."

"Like mine?"

"Yours was easy. Trust me."

Melody motioned toward Ben. "He's grown since the last time I saw him."

"Almost an inch," she said, thinking it was nice of Melody to notice. Ben had always been small for his age, the kid always positioned on the left side, front row, of the class picture, half a head shorter than the child seated next to him. Zach, Melody's son, was just the opposite: right-hand side, in the back, always the tallest in class.

"I heard a rumor that Ben isn't playing soccer this fall," Melody commented. "He wants to try something different."

"Like what?"

"He wants to learn to play the violin. He's going to take lessons with Mrs. Hastings."

"She's still teaching? She must be at least ninety."

"But she's got patience to teach a beginner. Or at least that's what she told me. And Ben likes her a lot. That's the main thing."

"Good for him," Melody said. "I'll bet he'll be great at it. But Zach's going to be bummed."

"They wouldn't be on the same team. Zach is going to play for the select team, right?"

"If he makes it."

"He will."

And he would. Zach was one of those naturally confident, competitive kids who matured early and ran rings around other, less talented players on the field. Like Ben. Even now, running around the yard with his Super Soaker, Ben couldn't keep up with him. Though good-hearted and sweet, Ben wasn't much of art athlete, a fact chat endlessly infuriated her ex-husband. Last year, her ex had stood on the sidelines of soccer games with a scowl on His face, which was another reason Ben didn't want to play.