Excerpt from How to Build a Heart by Maria Padian, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I guessed right: Sam stands at the edge of the woods and isn't looking anywhere in my direction . "Frank!" he yells into the darkness.

"Sam, c'mon in, it's raining," I hear the woman say. "He always comes back." I read hesitation in the boy's shoulders, but he turns. The light from the house falls on his face and for one second, before I pull back behind the protection of the shadows, I get a look at the most gorgeous boy I have ever imagined.

Not seen: imagined. Because that's how incredibly well God constructed Sam Shackelton. You almost can't believe it.

I wait until I hear his steps on the deck and the sliding glass door open and shut. The coast is clear, but it's full-on dark now. No way am I heading back into those woods: I will get lost. Or run into Frank. My best option is to get to the main road and walk to the construction site where Roz parked.

And where she's — hopefully — waiting for me.

The Shackeltons' long driveway is lined with cars from the basketball boys, and I duck behind each of them as I make my way toward the road. The rain has picked up, and my blouse clings to me like plastic wrap. My soaked skirt winds wetly against my knees; my waterlogged sneakers squinch.

There is no way I'm going to be able to explain this to Mami.

At the end of the driveway, I turn left... and am blinded by headlights from a car parked a few feet from the Shackeltons' mailbox. I almost fall backwards.

Then I hear, "Izzy! Get in!"

Roz. She's pulled the car just off to one side, so it's half on the road, half in the ditch. The passenger door swings wide. I scramble in, still blinking from the light. I land on something warm and wet. Frank. He whimpers and jumps into the back seat. "Oh my god! What's he doing here?"

Roz reaches back and scratches the top of the dog's head. "He caught up with me in the woods, and the only way I could get him to shut up was to pick him up. He's actually very friendly."

"What are you doing here?" I demand. Why aren't you waiting for me back where we parked? I don't add.

"Do I have perfect timing, or what?" she says. Frank barks.

As if he's agreeing with her.

"So what happens next?" I ask. "We add dog nabbing to the list of this evening's entertainments?"

"You want him?" Roz asks. "The Rodent might get jealous."

Roz isn't a fan of our dog, Paquito Schultz. "Paco" for short. A dachshund-Chihuahua mix, he once nipped her when she accidentally stepped on his tail. Since then, she only refers to him as The Rodent.

"Seriously, Roz."

"Take him back, I guess."

Oh? And how's that? Knock on the door and say, ' Hey, while we were trespassing on your property and stalking your son, we stole your dog! Here he is! Bye!"'

Roz does one of her sort-of laughs. But I wasn't trying to be funny. "Nah. You can just carry him to their yard and let him go. He'll probably scratch at the door and they'll let him in." She looks at me. Waiting.

"Hold on, what 'you' are you talking about?" "They know me, Izzy. I can't carry Frank back."

"I didn't steal him!"

"Neither did I. It was a rescue. He followed me and would have gotten lost."

"Oh, that's a pile of—"

"Don't! Don't swear, Isabella!" Roz interrupts. Frank barks again. "You know swearing is a sin."

For some reason this pisses me off more than anything else. It's not like she doesn't make Catholic jokes 24/7. But right now, in my wet, muddy uniform-way late getting home and facing a tirade from Mami about violating the Roz Rules - I'm in no mood for jokes about sin.

I reach behind the seat, grab Frank by his collar, and pull him into my lap. He gazes at me with his bulging bug eyes and licks the tip of my nose.

"You're lucky I like pugs," I tell him. I turn to Roz. "Just so you know, I'm doing this because if we leave the dog out here, he might get hit by a car."

Excerpted from How to Build a Heart by Maria Padian. Copyright © 2020 by Maria Padian. Excerpted by permission of Algonquin Young Readers. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.