by Bobbie Pyron
I kind of glare at the nurse. “I was going to ask Jewel about that before, but we got thrown out of her room.”
I tell about Baby coming to the hospital looking for Jewel (I leave out the part about Ree sneaking him in to see Jewel before that), him ending up at East Valley Humane Society and them putting him up for adoption soon. Which would be the most terrible thing ever.
Finally, I end with, “They need each other, Baby and Jewel.” And the telling is done.
No one says a word. Then Nurse Dillard says, “That’s some story, Piper.”
Miss Madison, who is Jewel’s new caseworker, holds out her hand. “Can I see those, Piper?” I’m surprised by how reluctant I am to hand the postcards and photographs over, but I do.
Miss Madison quickly flips through them and trots off for Jewel’s room.
Dr. Wells gets on the phone and calls the doctor in Lexington whose name is on Jewel’s medicine bottles. She nods a lot and says, “Uh-huh,” and, “Yes, I see.”
Dr. Wells puts her phone back in her pocket. She writes a bunch of things down on a clipboard and hands it to Nurse Dillard. “We need to start Miss Knight on these medications right away.”
Miss Madison comes out of Jewel’s room, smiling. She’s typing something into her phone. She’s got the fastest thumbs I’ve ever seen.
“Her sister’s name is Bernadette,” Miss Madison says, holding up her phone in a way that makes you wonder if this Bernadette is inside the phone, just waiting.
“She does live in Heartwell Manor in Boise, Idaho, and Jewel was, in fact, on her way to go live there too. She’s been expecting Jewel for months. She’s been worried sick about her.”
“What happened?” I ask.
Miss Madison sighs. “I don’t know for sure. I suspect she ran out of her medications early on in the trip and just, well . . .” She shrugs.
“Lost her way,” I say, remembering Ree’s words.
Miss Madison nods. “She’s very eager, though, to talk to Jewel. We’ll do that a little later today when Jewel is a bit less confused.”
Mama smiles. “That should do Jewel a world of good.” She gives me a little hug. “Things are falling into place for Jewel, and it’s all because of you, Piper.”
Everybody—Mama, Miss Madison, Dr. Wells, even Nurse Dillard—smiles at me, nodding.
But I’m having a hard time pulling out a smile.
I’m thinking about Baby.
On the elevator ride down, I say, “We’ve only solved one half of the problem, Mama. We have to go over to the animal shelter and explain about Jewel and the hospital and Jewel’s sister. Maybe if we explain it just right, they won’t adopt Baby to someone else.”
“Let’s wait and see what Jewel’s social worker finds out about her sister. We’ll know more after that.”
“But, Mama,” I say, “that could take a long time, and Baby doesn’t have a long time.”
Mama sighs and pinches the bridge of her perfect nose. The elevator dings; the door slides open.
“Okay,” she says, “after school tomorrow, we’ll go over to the animal shelter.”
I bounce on my tiptoes and clap my hands.
“But,” she says, skewering me with a no-arguments look, “Dylan has to come too.”
I smile up at Mama. “That’s okay.” There’s no way I’m pushing my luck.
I take her hand and squeeze it three times.
She smiles back down at me as we walk into the sunlit lobby. She squeezes back twice for “how much?”
Ree, Fire, and Mrs. Bailey rush toward us, their questions tumbling over each other.
I squeeze Mama’s hand in reply hard enough that she’ll feel it and know how much, for the rest of our lives.
41
The Scent of Hope
In this place where day after day everything
is the same,
something is changing.
After food, after Outside time,
Baby is brought to a different kennel
with different smells and different light.
Here
the kennel has the sweet, milky smell
of puppies
and a female dog full of worry.
Here
the door to the lobby swings open
right by his kennel
bringing the sound of voices
and the smell of Outside.
The smell of hope.
Of going away.
All day people come and go,
looking, coaxing, whistling, calling.
Dogs are carried away in arms,
or on the end of leashes,
tails wagging,
full of hope
to new homes.
Many more dogs leave here
than in the kennel at the end
of the dark hallway.
Here the light is bright every time
the door opens.
By the end of the day
Baby is exhausted by all the new,
all the coming and going.
He rests his chin on his brown bunny
and listens to the wind
scrape across the roof above.
He misses the feel of wind and cold and
the sun on his belly.
He misses seeing the sun rise,
all the curious things of the day,
no two days the same.
Every day a new day.
Every day a good day
with Jewel.
Only with Jewel.
42
Light
Jewel lets the voice as familiar as her own run over her and through her like water on fire-scorched earth.
With every word, she feels a key open long-forgotten parts of herself.
“I have missed you so,” the voice of her sister says. “Come here and stay with me.”
“Come here,” the voice says, “and we will grow old together.”
Light appears through the dark crack and touches a memory in Jewel’s soul: a poem she once loved, she once knew by heart.
She smiles and says, “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.”
Light pours in through the crack, shining bits and pieces of the poem on Jewel.
43
Good News, Bad News
Can I just say I hate it when someone says, “I have good news and bad news, which one do you want first?”
That’s what Mama says as we’re riding the bus to the East Valley Humane Society.
I sigh. “Good news, I guess.”
“Jewel talked with her sister on the phone this morning, and it went well. Jewel was very happy to hear from her and wants to go to Heartwell Manor and live there.”
“That is good news,” I agree. “But what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is, Jewel’s sister can’t come get Jewel and Baby like we were hoping.”
My heart drops like a too-fast elevator. “Why not?”
“She’s in a wheelchair,” Mama explains.
My heart drops two stories down the Elevator of Disappointment.
“I called Country-Wide to see what a one-way ticket would cost for Jewel to get out to Idaho.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s not too bad,” she says.
My heart lifts just a little.
“But,” Mama continues, “they don’t allow dogs on the bus.”
My heart drops down, down, down. I’m getting real tired of elevators.
The shelter is quiet when we get there. The dogs must be taking naps. The same lady, Tamara, looks up from her desk when we walk in.
“Hi,” she says with a smile. “What can I help you with?”
I swallow hard. “Baby,” is all I manage to get out.
“Toto,” Dylan says helpfully.
Recognition lights Tamara’s face. “Now I remember you,” she says, pointing to me. “You came in last week and told me about Baby and his person. Opal, was it? Ruby?”
“Jewel,” I correct her
. “Jewel Knight.”
She nods. “I have to tell you, we’ve had a lot of interest in that little dog. I have a whole stack of applications people have filled out to adopt him.”
I feel the blood rush to my face. “But you said you wouldn’t put him up for adoption for two weeks.”
“I know,” Tamara says, “and that two weeks will be up in four days.”
“But you can’t!” I cry.
Mama puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. Then she explains everything that’s happened.
Tamara taps her fingers on her desk. I can tell she’s thinking things over by the way she puckers her mouth.
“So Jewel is definitely going to this place where her sister lives, and you know for sure they allow pets?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mama says. She doesn’t mention that Jewel doesn’t have the money for her bus ticket and neither does her sister.
“It’s just that they don’t allow dogs on the Country-Wide bus,” I say.
“That’s not fair,” Dylan says, clutching Ted the Shark to his chest. “Dogs are people too.”
Tamara laughs, but in a nice way. Then she says, “I have an idea that might get us around that.”
She opens a folder. “Let me make some phone calls while you go visit Baby.”
After supper, I meet Karina, Fire, and Daria down in the computer room. I fill them in on our visit to the animal shelter.
“Tamara says that if Baby is registered as Jewel’s emotional support animal, he can ride on the bus with her,” I say.
“An emotional support animal,” Karina says, trying out the words. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s kind of like a therapy dog,” I explain. “They can go in lots of places that regular animals aren’t allowed, like the post office, grocery stores, restaurants, that sort of thing.”
“How does he get registered?” Daria asks.
“Jewel’s doctor has to write a letter saying Jewel needs Baby to be”—I search my brain for the words Tamara used—“mentally and emotionally stable.”
“That sure is the truth,” Fire says.
“And that Jewel is disabled,” I add, “because of her mental illness.”
Fire nods. “My mom is on disability for her spells too.”
“The good thing,” I say, “is Jewel has a caseworker now, and she’s working on all of this.”
“But can this all happen in just a few days?” Daria asks.
I nod. “I think so. Tamara said she’d talk it over with her supervisor, but she thinks they can hold Baby for at least another week. The shelter also has a dog trainer who can teach Baby the things he’ll need to go in public places and live in Heartwell Manor.” I don’t tell them, though, that Baby’s been moved to a kennel near the front where the “highly adoptable” dogs are.
Daria turns from the computer screen. “It’d be great if we could get Baby one of these official vests too.” Sure enough, there on the screen, is a dog wearing a red and black vest with an official-looking patch on the side. “Then everybody would know how important he is.”
“How much does it cost?” Karina-the-practical asks.
“Looks like a small one is about thirty dollars,” Daria says.
Fire sighs. “More money Jewel doesn’t have.”
I remember the leftover allowance money in my Band-Aid box. “I’ve got twenty dollars I can donate toward the vest for Baby.”
“That’s magnanimous of you, right, Karina?” Fire says with a wink.
Karina laughs. Then she says, “No kidding, but that doesn’t solve the problem of the money we’ll need for the bus ticket.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve been giving that a lot of thought,” I say, “and I think I have a plan.”
44
Sit! Stay!
A man with the smell of
other dogs
and chicken bits
takes Baby out into the fenced yard,
away from the barking, yipping,
and howling.
He asks Baby, “Do you know sit?”
Baby lies down.
The man asks, “Do you know down?”
Baby rolls onto his back
for a belly rub.
“I’ll take that as a no,” the man sighs.
The man holds his hand up, palm out, and says,
“Stay, Baby!”
He walks away.
Baby follows
the smell of chicken bits drifting
from the man’s pocket.
How can he not, even though he knows that word?
The man smiles. He sits on the ground and
gathers Baby into his strong arms.
He nuzzles Baby’s ears.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do to get you ready
to be a good doggy citizen.”
Baby wags his bit of a tail.
The man gives him a tasty bite of chicken.
“You’ve got to learn sit, down, no, and
stay.”
Baby wags his tail again, licks his lips, and sneezes
with excitement.
The man laughs and gives him another piece of
chicken.
“When we’re done, you’re going to be the best
support dog there ever was.”
The man stands and brushes the dirt
from his jeans.
He pats Baby on the head.
“Let’s go,” he says.
Finally, his favorite words.
“Let’s go!” Baby yips.
45
The Power of Brownies
It’s Troop 423 Firefly Girls Gourmet Brownie night. Normally, we meet on Saturday mornings, but we’re meeting early so we can get going on selling brownies.
In my old troop, we sold boxes of brownies to people we knew or our parents worked with, or at church. We even sold them at school. Teachers purely love gourmet brownies.
But here, it’s different. The people in Hope House don’t exactly have spare money for ordering tons of brownies. Lots of the parents don’t have jobs, so that’s out.
“We set up tables in front of businesses that will allow us,” Karina explained, walking home from school today. “Sometimes we ask our teachers too.”
She shrugged. “Honestly, we don’t raise lots of money.”
“What do y’all do with what you do raise?”
“Oh,” she said, watching two squirrels chase each other across the playground, “we usually just have enough for, like, a big pizza party or something. Sometimes enough for all of us to go to a movie.”
All these weeks I’ve been dreaming about selling enough brownies to go to the camp up in the mountains this summer. I imagined what camp in the mountains would be like every day when I looked west.
But tonight, I have a different idea.
After roll call, we say the Firefly Pledge.
“I promise to do my best every day to make the world a better place . . .”
Tonight, those words have extra meaning for me.
Karina stands at the podium and goes through the agenda. She looks at me and says, “Piper has requested time to talk about our brownie sales.” She motions for me to come up to the front.
I see Mama’s face in the back of the room. She smiles and nods. “Just tell their story,” I hear her say in my head.
“There’s a woman named Jewel. She lives over in the park across the road with her little dog, Baby. Jewel and Baby can’t be in a shelter like us where it’s safe and warm because they don’t allow pets in shelters. So,” I say, “they have to live outside, even in the winter.”
I see Alexa, Desiree, Chloe, Luz, Phoenix, and even Carmen frown.
Angel shakes her head. “That is so not fair.”
I take a deep breath and continue their story. “Because of that, Jewel got really sick with pneumonia and is in the hospital. Baby was left alone, and he’s just a little dog, kind of like Toto from The Wizard of Oz.” Seeing how upset people look, I ru
sh to add, “But a lot of other people who live in the park helped look after him.”
“You helped too,” Karina adds.
“There’s no way I could have done all this without y’all,” I say, looking at my best friends.
Karina nods. Daria blushes. Fire grins and says, “Never underestimate the power of Firefly Girls together.”
Everybody laughs and claps.
“Exactly,” I say. I straighten my shoulders and touch my blue sash. “That’s why I’m proposing we help Jewel and Baby. They have a place to go when Jewel gets out of the hospital but no money to get there.”
“How can we help?” Desiree asks. “We sure don’t have any money.”
I grin. “Yes, but we do have brownies, and that’s a powerful thing.”
Fire pumps her fist. “Brownie power for the greater good!”
Oh, how I wish Ree could see her!
The room fills up with excited voices.
Mrs. Bailey steps up to the podium beside me. “So what you’re suggesting, Piper, is we use our brownie money this year for a service project rather than, say, a movie or a pizza party?”
Or camp up in the mountains.
I swallow that particular dream down. “Yes, ma’am,” I say. “I am.”
Mrs. B nods. “Okay, ladies,” she says. “We’ll need to take a vote. All those in favor of using brownie money this year to help Jewel and Baby, raise your hands. And remember, we don’t get to keep all the money, just part of it.”
“Wait,” Carmen says, frowning. “We don’t even know what we’re voting on.”
“Sure we do,” Fire says. “We’re voting on raising money for Jewel and Baby.”
Desiree rolls her eyes. “We know that, Fire. But we don’t know how much money.”
I feel kind of sick to my stomach. This is the question I’ve been dreading.
“Well,” I say, “the one-way bus ticket is a hundred and thirty dollars.”
“That’s not bad,” Phoenix says. “We can raise that.”
I swallow. “We’d also like to get an official emotional support animal vest for Baby, and those cost about thirty dollars.”