Justin got up early on Monday morning and took Tom for a walk.

The big dog had been thoroughly trained to heel, come and stay or walking him anywhere with a leash would be more like one of those old Western movies where someone gets a foot stuck in a stirrup and is dragged all over the prairie. Two blocks from home, Tom sighted a cat.

"Good dog," whispered Justin. "Heel."

Tom quivered, his flagpole tail signaling his interest but he remained by Justin's side. They watched the ginger tom slink across their path fifty yards ahead, then Justin led the dog up and let him sniff the bushes where the cat had disappeared.

Back at the house, Justin had to run for the bathroom while preparing Tom's breakfast of canned dog food with a sprinkling of kibble. Tom sat in the kitchen, confused because his bowl was still on the countertop.

The retching went on long enough for Harold to get dressed and into his chair where he sat in the hall outside of the bathroom, looking concerned. Tom came and sat beside him but it was possible that the dog was thinking of the forgotten breakfast more than about Justin's apparent misery.

Justin straightened up and looked at his dad. "Can you finish feeding Tom?" he said. "The smell of the dog food just got to me."

Harold nodded and Tom woofed because he recognized his name and probably the words, 'dog food.' Dog, man and chair moved to the ktitchen and slurping could shortly be heard.

Justin knelt beside the toilet bowl and mopped his face with a wet cloth. This thing of being sick every morning was getting old.

In the kitchen, Harold let Tom out into the backyard after the dog had polished the food bowl and the floor around it for the third time. Mostly, it was to get the Big Poofy out of the way; Tom took up more room than two humans and his tail was a menace.

Harold put on water to boil to make breakfast rice. That would be enough, since he didn't feel like risking Justin's comfort with the smell of meat cooking. What the heck was going on with the boy, he wondered. Three days of this was too much, in the morning, he resolved, they would see a doctor even if Justin had to miss school.

A subdued Justin made his way to Jenn's about a half hour early. In the end, the only thing he'd been able to keep down had been weak tea, very sweet with a bit of ginger in it. Harold had last used such a remedy for nausea for his wife six months before Justin's sister had been born.

The oddest thing possibly was that within ten minutes of throwing up, Justin felt fine. Still not hungry but physically okay. But Harold wasn't the only one worried. Justin imagined that he might have cancer, that something that shouldn't be there was growing in his body.

He'd persuaded his father to let him keep his mall date with the girls just to get his mind off the worry.

Shabeez met him at the door. She lived only two streets over from Jenn and often spent as much time there as at her own home. Shabeez had rosy-brown skin, shiny black hair, light brown eyes that almost looked yellow-green and a curvy figure that, with her height, always made people think she must be older than fifteen.

"I know you're a white kid, Juice," she greeted him, "but you look like chalk. What's wrong?"

Justin shook his head as he passed her in the doorway. Jenn's two cats looked at him warily. Pengo, a tuxedo cat, and Qubit, a calico, had been named by Jenn's father after two antique video games, and the smell of dog on Justin's hands and bare legs made them wary. He had to make friends with them all over again every time he came over.

"Is that Juice?" Jenn's voice came from somewhere inside. "Tell him we've got fruit pops."

Shabeez waved the fruit pop she had been sucking on. "Want one? This is orange-mango, it's delish."

The remembered sensation of orangey-peachy-oily-slimy mango sliding down his throat almost caused Justin to retch -- again. He shook his head quickly.

Jenn came in, carrying two pops. "They're Trader Joe's Smoothie Pops. Pineapple-banana or strawberry-kiwi, you pick," she said to him, holding both out.

"Pineapple," said Justin, relieved that that actually sounded good.

The three sucked and nibbled on frozen fruit juice for a couple of minutes. Jenn pushed unruly red hair away from her face for the umpteenth time before she mentioned. "Shabeez is right, Juice. You look like you don't feel good enough to be doing anything, let alone walking around in the heat at the Plaza."

'Let's go to Tyler first then," said Shabeez. "Ride there in an air-conditioned bus. Shop a bit, eat lunch in the food court --"

"Jody Maroni, mmm," said Jenn.

"Shop some more, get back to the Plaza when it cools off and the band is setting up," finished Shabeez. "But that sausage crap ain't no good for you, girl."

Justin tried not to think about sausages. "They've got a salad place, too," he said.

"Chinese for me," said Shabeez. "Broccoli beef, noodles and an egg roll."

"How is that better than a chicken andouille at Jody Maroni?" asked Jenn.

"It's not sausage, der," said Shabeez.

"Oh, God," said Justin, pushing between them and running for the bathroom. He didn't quite throw up but the pineapple-banana smoothie pop got tossed in the trash -- and a panicked tuxedo cat had to be coaxed down from the drapes.

"You are something else, Juice," said Shabeez. "You going to give all of us a bout of the stomach flu or something."

"I'm okay," said Justin. "Just don't talk about food."

"Huh," she said.

In the living room, Jenn called out to the stranded cat, reaching out a hand. "Purdy Pengo, you can come down, kitty, kitty, kitty. Ow! Okay, stay up there, see if I care."

Carmine and Ell arrived about that time and joined in the efforts to persuade Pengo to give up his death clutch -- each in her own way. "You'd better come down, cat," said Carmine. "Or its curtains for you," she intoned in a sepulchral voice that matched her goth clothes and makeup.

Ell rolled her eyes at the terrible pun, made indescribable kitty noises and simply stretched up and took the cat down -- she was even taller than Shabeez.

"Good thing Juice didn't see your dress hike-up like that, it might have caused his balls to drop. But now I know that you don't really shop at K-Mart despite what the ads say," commented Carmine.

"Oh, shut up, Elvira," said Ell, cuddling the cat. "Who's a pretty pussy?"

"I have," said Carmine. "Oh, wait, I think I misheard what you asked."

Jenn reappeared from the hallway after a conversation with Shabeez. "Guys," she said. "Juice is sick and not feeling too well. He keeps throwing up."

Carmine said, "I hear Zoe screwed him good, maybe he's pregnant."