FIFTY-ONE
We were all quiet for most of the walk home. Jason wasn’t crying any longer but his head hung with the weight of that bulletin board flyer. We had sort of teased him a few days earlier about Amber being his girlfriend, hell, I was the one who had told Steve and Cory that Jason liked her. Even though they were just young kids and not really boyfriend and girlfriend we all knew the way Jason felt about her.
And now she was missing.
On the poster it said that no one had seen her since Saturday night when she went to bed, two days prior. Statistics said that when a child went missing for more than twenty-four hours, they were, more than likely, not going to see home again. Her parents must have been distraught.
“Jason,” Steve finally said as we passed Lincoln Elementary, “I know what you’re thinking. You think that whoever killed those other girls kidnapped Amber. Well, you don’t know that. Nobody does. Just because that flyer said she is missing doesn’t mean that someone took her. She could have run away from home for all we know.”
Jason, still in his daze, was momentarily silent and then, in a voice that was dry and cracked, said, “She didn’t run away. Her parents love her and she loves them. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to do something like that.”
“Yeah, I remember her from school,” Jackie agreed. She was a nice girl. I don’t think she would have run away either.”
Steve shot her a look that told her keep her mouth shut and she did for the rest of the walk home. Even Frisbee seemed to sense the tension and sadness in our group. Again he walked with his tail drooped and his head as low as Jason’s. It was as if he had become one of us over the course of the last few days; almost as if he were beginning to share our moods and feelings. As my brother felt the sorrow for Amber, Frisbee’s mood changed to reflect his. Maybe it was a form of sympathy, to show that he understood what Jason was going through.
When we reached the corner of Aspen and Fullerton, Steve instructed the girls to go on home by themselves. We would walk to Cottonwood and down in case Jason needed to talk to just the boys.
Turning down our street, Steve said, “Hey, Jason? You know that we’re always here for you, right? I mean, I can’t really imagine how you must feel, but I know that you’re probably hurting pretty bad right now. What I’m trying to say is that if you want to sit down and talk about it, we’ll all do what we can to get through this.”
Cory and I nodded in agreement. We would do anything for him because we knew that he’d do the same for us had it been the other way around.
Jason, head still hung, said, “No. Thanks, guys. I kind of just want to go home right now. Maybe lay down for a little bit.”
“Okay, man,” Steve said. “You do what you got to. But no matter what, anytime you need us, we’re always here.”
“Thanks.”
We made it halfway down Cottonwood when Steve, Cory and I stopped, dead in our tracks in front of the McBride’s house. Jason and Frisbee, in their funk, kept walking, oblivious to Ben sunning himself on our neighbor’s lawn.
Mr. Gagner’s St. Bernard was on his belly, his massive head resting on his fat paws, his eyes closed. How that dog had gotten out of his yard again was anybody’s guess. But tried and true, there he was and Jason and Frisbee were walking right toward him, unaware.
“Jason,” Steve and Cory said as quiet as possible to no effect.
“Jason,” I said a bit louder and I may have said it too loud because Jason and Frisbee only halted when Ben raised his head at the sound of my voice and barked viciously.
He got up off of the lawn and crept toward Jason, teeth bared, growling low in his throat. I wondered if he remembered what we had done to him in the alley a few days back. Now he had found us. Now he would get his revenge. His dark brown and white coat, droopy red eyes and the drool hanging from his muzzle made him look like a monster with an appetite for small children.
Jason, like us, froze. Frisbee on the other hand walked toward Ben, a serene look about him, fearless, stopping only when he was a few feet away from the bigger dog. Ben growled louder sensing that he was being challenged. Calmly, Frisbee sniffed at the space between them which seemed to piss off Ben even more. We knew something was about to happen and we feared that if we didn’t get our dog out of there, the St. Bernard would annihilate him.
“Fris,” Steve said, slowly. “Easy, boy. Come on.”
He looked at us, the red bandana around his neck making him look like an outlaw after a bank robbery, then looked back at Ben. His tail wagged twice or twitched, I couldn’t tell.
Ben barked one loud roar and lunged at Frisbee who hopped out of the way of the bite easily enough and circled him. Ben overcorrected on the next attack, missed again and ended up on his own shoulder, one leg bent under him, butt in the air.
And still Frisbee didn’t fight back, didn’t even bark. It was as if it were a game to him. Come on, big boy. Try and get me, we could almost hear him thinking.
But then, as Ben got his paws back underneath him, and bared his teeth again, Frisbee did something amazing. He hopped up on just his hind legs and stood there, balancing himself in front of Ben, front paws bent at his chest. He was literally standing up to the St. Bernard, and holding his ground.
We looked to each other, stunned. How he had even learned to do that was baffling. Had the person that owned him, before he had found us, taught him that trick? Maybe he had taught himself how to do it. However he had learned it, it was working. Because now his head was higher than Ben’s and it really freaked the bigger dog out. Ben wasn’t growling any more, in fact, he had taken a couple of steps away from Frisbee.
I don’t know if it was Frisbee’s courage that got Jason into action or the fact that he had just found out that one of his school mates and good friends was probably dead, but he moved toward Ben too.
“Careful, Jason,” I said.
Either paying me no mind or just not caring, Jason walked onto the lawn and up to the huge beast.
“Ben!” he shouted.
The St. Bernard jumped around to face Jason, clamped his mouth shut and whined in confusion, as if he didn’t know what to think anymore. Now there were two bodies standing up to him and he began backing down quickly.
“Listen, you damn dog,” Jason yelled. “We’re not afraid of you anymore, got it! We’re done being scared of your big, ugly, furry butt. I’m going to say this once and one time only. SHUT UP! LEAVE US ALONE!”
Ben looked like a child that had just been caught lying. His ears drooped and his eyes blinked rapidly as if trying to hold back tears. He turned from Jason and Frisbee, knowing that neither was frightened of him and began to slink toward the sidewalk. Once his back was turned, Jason finished him off good. He cocked his foot back and kicked that dog as hard as he could straight in his pooper. The impact made the beast fart.
Ben let out a righteous howl and took off running across the street and all the way up Cottonwood. He didn’t even slow down as he rounded the corner by his house.
We stared at Jason in awe. He had just done something that none of us would ever have the balls to do in our lives. He had just sent Ben, tail between his legs, back to Mr. Gagner’s house, yelping the whole way home.
Steve was the first to speak. “That…was…awesome.”
“Dude, where did that come from?” Cory asked.
We walked over to Jason who looked just as surprised as we did. He gave us a smile and a quick laugh, shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know, man,” he said,” I guess I was just getting sick of that damn mutt.
Then it looked as though the memory of Amber’s picture on that flyer had returned to haunt him once again. He looked up toward the darkening clouds, bared his teeth not unlike Ben had moments before and sighed.
The five of us continued on our way home, Steve and Cory patting Jason on the back, still making a big deal about what he had just done. It had been pretty cool.
We all stopped in the driveway at our house and Jason s
aid, “Okay, I’ll probably see you guys tomorrow.”
Steve and Cory nodded and repeated what they had said earlier about talking to them if he needed to.
“Are you guys going to be outside in a bit?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m going to feed Frisbee and throw the ball for him in my backyard. You can come over if you want,” Steve told me. “You too, Cory.”
Cory said that he would and I was about to confirm as well when our mother came out front with our sister Susan, her small thumb plugging up her mouth.
“Jason, Ricky, you need to come inside now,” she said to us. “There’s something that I need to tell you both. Steve and Cory, you should go to your houses too. Your mother’s will let you know what’s happened.”
Steve, Cory and I looked back and forth at each other wondering the same thing; had she found out that Amber Nelson was missing and wanted to let Jason and I know what was going on? I wanted to tell her that we already knew but instead I waved to the other guys and told them I’d see them another time.
When I got inside the house, Jason was already sitting on the couch, towel still hung around his neck. Our father was still at work so it was just the four of us in the living room. Mom told me to sit down next to my brother and then she dumped more bad news on us. It wasn’t bad enough that a sweet girl like Amber was now gone but the next six words to come out of her mouth put us in an even darker place.
“Boys, Donald Miller died last night.”
Frisbee Page 59