“Mom?” I look at her and she nods and smiles.
I slip off the chair and kneel down on the floor throwing my arms around my new dog.
“Magic,” I whisper and lean my head on top of hers.
“Don’t look so worried. We’re going to be together a long, long time.”
“While Magic is coming along really well, she does seem a bit disoriented by the move from her original family. Just have patience with her.” Natalie smiles at us.
Magic turns to me and laps at my face. I squeeze my eyes and mouth closed tight to protect against drool.
“Well, we know you will be, or we wouldn’t ask you to take her.”
My own permanent dog—I sigh and stand up, ready to take Magic home. Back out the door, I walk her a bit, and once we’re on the grass, I tell her, “Do your business.”
She looks at me again with the whites of her eyes showing.
“Well, if you don’t have to go, suit yourself. But you’ll be stuck in the car a while.”
We get back in the van, and Magic actually leaps into Teal’s car seat, bumping her head on the ceiling.
“Uh, uh, you’re not the baby,” I tell her and tug the leash so that she comes in the front and sits on the floor at my feet. She sniffs at Teal’s bottle of congealed milk and settles around it. As we drive, I pick long golden hairs from my black shirt. I love having dog hair back in my life.
Magic opens her mouth and pants heavily. She whines softly after a while.
“It’s okay girl. It’ll be all right. You’re with us and you’ll never change owners again.”
“Careful,” Mom says. “You can’t count on that. You know that large dogs can have hip problems.”
“But that’s okay, too. Don’t you see? If she flunks on health, we can adopt her. One way or the other we’ll always have Magic.”
Life’s too perfect, I think. We’re driving by the park now, and outside I see Kyle strolling along. What are the odds? Magic senses another dog and stands up, paws on my knees for a moment, till she jumps onto my lap.
Kyle’s walking Beauty, and of course he can’t see us. But Beauty can. She turns to look at the van and freezes. She looks at the dog in my lap and then looks towards me, not moving. Kyle reaches his hand in front of his head like he’s feeling for an obstacle.
Beauty’s golden eyes don’t accuse, they accept and love, but they don’t understand.
“Down, Magic.” I gently force my new permanent dog back down onto the floor. I duck down too. I can’t face the hurt in Beauty’s eyes.
CHAPTER 4
Kyle and Beauty
For some reason our English class is held in the chemistry lab, which smells like some kind of strong medicine. Not too many kids into the sciences, I guess. I hate sitting on a high stool, so far away from Beauty. I feel out of balance. When I lean over the counter, I accidentally slip into what turns out to be a sink. Beauty barks a sharp announcement.
“Are you all right, Kyle?” It’s my ex-girlfriend’s voice.
“Maddie, hi—I’m fine.”
I quickly push myself up and straighten on the stool again. I can feel Beauty’s nose sniffing at me. She must be standing.
“Settle, girl. I’m all right. How are you?” I ask Maddie, in the tone I wish she had used for me, one friend to another, rather than one friend worried about the other.
“Good.” A long, awkward pause—I miss being able to see whether a person is waiting for a response from me. Maybe she’s already turned away and talking to someone on her right. No, she starts talking to me again.
“I heard we get to choose our own novels this year. What a relief. No more Lord of the Flies or A Separate Peace.”
“Maybe something from this decade,” I agree with her. I remember Maddie and I hated A Separate Peace together, my fondest memory of English class.
I sense when the teacher comes into the room. The atmosphere changes but the conversations continue.
“It’s old man Veen. He’s the toughest English teacher in the school. Darn, I thought he was supposed to retire last year,” Maddie whispers at me.
“He’s flashing the lights to get our attention.”
I smile.
“Won’t work on me.” It doesn’t work on anyone else either because the talking continues. Suddenly, a door slams, violently. Maddie gasps.
“Thank you for your attention.” Chalk screeches and pounds along the blackboard.
“My name is Mr.Veen.” His voice sounds dry and hard. “A laboratory for English class is ridiculous and unacceptable. I will have this changed for tomorrow.”
He calls out our names for attendance. By the change in the volume in his voice, I sense him drawing nearer.
“Kyle Nicholson,” he calls.
“Present,” I answer.
“A dog in my class. Perhaps somebody will learn something this term.” Dry, hard, and sarcastic.
“Beauty is my dog guide.”
“How do you get your reading done, Kyle? Do you have an Educational Assistant?”
“Not for English, sir. I scan the work into my computer, and it reads it to me. Or I get the book on CD.”
“I don’t see why the board can’t assign an assistant to you. Am I supposed to prepare a less accelerated program for you?” he asks.
“No, sir! I’ll do the full workload, like everyone else.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Kyle.” A challenge or a warning— Veen doesn’t sound convinced. But I’ll show him and Dad at the same time. I may be blind, but I can work twice as hard as everyone else and still get into any university.
When Veen is finished taking attendance, he talks about his expectations for the term. He calls us up to choose a book for independent study from the box at the front of the room.
I’m not about to muscle my way through the other kids to get first choice. So I hang back and wait.
“Mr. Nicholson, do you need a special invitation?” Veen asks.
“Forward, Beauty,” I say, but before I make it to the box, Maddie puts a book in my hands.
“I can do it myself,” I hiss at her.
“But it’s the last one. Lord of the Flies.”
“Aw geeze,” I grumble. “Mr. Veen, I read this book in grade nine, and I read it again in grade ten.”
“It’s a wonderful book, isn’t it? Stands the test of time— addresses real issues.”
“For sure. But there must be other books that are just as good.”
I don’t mean it sarcastically, but some of the kids titter, which gets Veen angry.
“You’ll read Lord of the Flies.”
“Sir. What if I go to the library and get several books on CD, and you select one from those?”
“That would be special treatment. I thought we already agreed there would be no alternate program for you.”
The class turns quiet. Everyone’s enjoying the showdown, waiting and wondering if I’ll snap back at him. I’m determined not to turn this into a high-noon gunfight. What student ever wins one of those, anyway?
“Studying the same book three times is a little much, even in a regular program.”
“All right.”
Like the old gunslinger of the classroom, Veen takes his time before firing his last bullet.
“You’ve read the assigned novel twice. So, find another book and compare and contrast it with Lord of the Flies in your essay.”
Compare and contrast, two deadly words, double the work and doubly dull. But I don’t want to argue anymore, or go back on my position. I want to prove to him and everyone else that I can make it on my own.
“Yes sir.” I decide right then that English will be my least favourite subject this year.
For the rest of the class, Veen discusses essay format, introductory paragraph, line of argument, and supporting fact. Then he gives out an assignment sheet that warns: No abridged versions of these novels are acceptable.
“Do you want some help to your next class, Kyle?” Maddie asks wh
en the bell goes.
“No, thanks. I have Beauty. She’s got to do the job.”
“You replaced me with a dog?” Maddie is only half-joking. “I’ll never replace you.”
Maddie was the first love of my life, as far back as kindergarten. I can’t remember anymore quite what she looked like, but the vibes she gives off are like sunshine and oranges—warm, bright with a scent of tangy sweetness. She couldn’t handle me going blind, and I couldn’t handle what we had become: the helper and helpless.
She touches my hand.
“Bye, Kye.” I think I hear a smile in her voice.
“Forward, girl. Find the door.” The moment we step into the hall, Beauty freezes.
“What’s wrong, Beauty?”
It’s not like her. I reach my arm ahead and feel above for obstacles. She’d stop if there were a dangling branch or wire. She’s done that before. Nothing. I stretch my leg out as far as it will go and touch my foot down. No hole there. No obstruction either. I inhale deeply, and I smell baby powder or lotion—and put that scent and Beauty’s behaviour together. Beauty barks now, Rawf, rawf, rawf, rawf!
She pulls upwards. Is she standing on her hind legs?
“No!” I shake her harness.
“Beauty, you can’t fall apart every time you see Elizabeth.” I run my fingers through my hair, feeling a little unhinged myself.
“Hey man, I got French next. What about you?” another voice barks beside me.
“Quick, Ryan. Look around. Is she here?”
“Who, where?” He pauses, as he must see whom I mean.
“Forget her, dude. She’s too young for you.” There’s disdain in his voice, but Ryan isn’t normally so discerning. Breathing and being female are his only usual qualifications. He’s trying to put me off her because he thinks I haven’t got a chance.
“So she was here. I knew it. I smelled her.”
“Great, sharp nose there. A little red-haired girl was checking out the dog. That’s all. She didn’t even look your way.”
“What do you know?”
“Hey, man, we don’t have to argue this one out. There’s one simple way to find out. Call her.”
“I don’t have her number.”
I hear Ryan sigh. “Have you ever heard of ‘Information’? Just dial them up, and they’ll get her number for you. Heck, I bet they’ll even dial it for you if you tell them you’re handicapped.”
“I’m not handicapped. I’m blind.”
“My grandmother’s not handicapped either. She makes the phone company dial for her all the time ’cause she’s lazy.”
Ryan is amazing in both his level of immaturity and his sudden pure insights. I could call the operator and make her do the work for me. I don’t need to involve my sister Shawna at all—the big road block to most of my personal calls.
Algebra and geometry are scheduled for the afternoon, and for those classes an Educational Assistant does help me. The EA smells like old coffee and sounds slightly squeaky when she tells me the equations. I try to picture the numbers and letters in my head, but it’s exhausting. Plus, she pats my back when I do get the right answer. I think I prefer tough guy Veen’s approach. Still, in between the exponents and brackets, another picture keeps drifting into my head, which makes me feel a lot better. I see myself calling the operator after school. My reward for all this will be to speak to Elizabeth. It’s been on my mind all August, but today I will make it happen.
At the end of the day, Beauty and I leave through the front door of the school, turning left at the sidewalk for about twenty steps to the bus shelter. We practised this a few times last week. I could just say, “Bus stop,” and she’d lead me there, but I count my steps instead because I don’t want to become too dependent.
There’s a warm wind blowing, which makes the glass panels in the bus shelter creak. I hope we’re not in for a thunderstorm—I’ll get drenched.
“Can I give him my bologna sandwich?” a young voice interrupts my thoughts.
“No, sorry. She’s working right now; she’s not allowed to accept food.”
“Guess I’ll just throw it in the garbage then.” Clunk.
“She’s a cool dog. What’s her name?”
I mumble an answer because I’m too tired to make conversation. A bus swishes to the side of us, puffing out diesel fumes as it pulls in the curb. I shuffle forward with Beauty. We climb the stairs, and I reach out for the box to put my token.
“It’s over here,” the little boy’s voice says as he pushes my hand closer.
I shouldn’t feel irritated because I know he’s trying to help. He can’t possibly know what it’s like to be pushed by somebody you don’t know. I keep my cool, and I ask him whether the front seat is empty.
“Uh huh,” he answers, and he squeezes by us. “Here, girl,” he calls from close by.
“She’s supposed to do it herself,” I say.
“Find the seat, Beauty,” I command and then I slide in beside the kid.
The bus lurches ahead, stops for a second and then jerks forward again. I grab for Beauty.
“She can sit on top of my feet. I don’t mind. I’m going to get my own dog some day, a dog just like her. Can I pat her?”
I drop the harness, keeping the leash tucked under my own feet. Beauty doesn’t like the bus much and always finds it hard to settle.
“Sorry, the rules are that I have to take the harness off for anyone else to touch or talk to her, and that would take too long.”
Donald—that’s what his name is—wants to know all about Beauty and all about me.
“How did you go blind?”
“Retinopathy,” I tell him flatly, hoping the big word will scare him off the topic. Sometimes I like to escape this area of conversation that seems to dominate my life. But clearly it isn’t going to be today.
“What’s that?” he continues.
I sigh. A bright kid—save me from a bright kid’s questions. Still, I always feel I have to answer them.
“Well, I have diabetes which sometimes causes the blood vessels in a person’s eyes to bleed.”
“My grandfather has diabetes, and he doesn’t even wear glasses except to read.”
“Your grandfather probably has Type 2, which means he got it when he was older. He can probably control it with the right diet. I have the other kind. I’ve had it for quite a while, and when you don’t control your blood sugar levels really well, complications can arise.”
“You mean you didn’t control your blood sugar, and you went blind? That sucks.”
“Yeah, it does.”
Something we both can agree on. Still, now we’re at the point I hate, the inevitable moment of pity, when a sighted person almost flat out tells you that they’d rather be dead than blind. I can hear it in Donald’s voice. The moment is here.
“But you have this way-cool, super-smart dog. You are sooo lucky.”
“Lucky?” I smile as I pat Beauty. Yeah, Donald’s right. Today I feel lucky, and I’ll feel even luckier when I get to speak to Elizabeth again.
CHAPTER 5
Elizabeth and Magic
It’s raining hard as the van rolls into the driveway, and we make a run for the house the moment Mom pulls the key from the ignition. Magic bolts for the door alongside me, and the first thing she does once she’s inside is squat on the carpet.
“You’re supposed to be toilet-trained!” I yank her hard and manage to drag her outside to finish her pee. The drizzle plasters her golden fur back, and she gives me a critical look as though I should make it stop.
“Business, Magic. Do all your business. We’re not going in until you do.”
A sliver of anxious white rims her golden eyes as she looks from me to the washed-out grey sky. She shakes herself. It’s final. There will be no more business right now, and we’re both getting drenched.
“Okay, if you’re sure you don’t have to go.” I lead Magic back inside. “Let me show you your crate.” We head to the kitchen and, there,
shock of shock, sits Rolph, my sister’s ex-boyfriend. What’s he doing here? I wonder.
I always thought he looked suspiciously corporate for an animations guy. He’s got a thick body, blond bushy hair, a sharp nose, and controlling grey eyes. He’s crouched down, holding his arms out to his son, who’s manoeuvring around the table.
“Come on Teal, you can do it.”
“He’s eight months old. Give it up, he’s not going to walk,” I tell Rolph, as Magic and I come into the room.
At the sight of the dog, Teal’s face brightens with glee, and he staggers towards Magic, holding out a baby cookie. Magic pads up, sniffs the cookie, then starts licking Teal’s face, getting giggles that transform into squeals.
“Here, stop that.” Rolph pushes Magic away.
Teal holds out his cookie again, which Magic bites, then Teal stuffs the crumbs in his mouth.
“The dog took his food. Elizabeth, surely that isn’t right.” Rolph stands up.
Magic’s lip raises, and she growls, soft and low.
Rolph backs away. “This dog is aggressive, Elizabeth!”
“She’s just trying to protect Teal,” I protest. Already, Magic doesn’t like Rolph, which I can fully understand.
“Magic! Go lie down!” I point to the crate, a large cage we keep for our foster dogs. It’s not supposed to be a punishment, more like the dog’s own personal bedroom, a safe haven from people like Rolph.
Magic gives Teal’s face another wash with her tongue, and then pads quietly into the crate. She lies down on the blanket and crosses her front legs, dropping her jaw into a relaxed dog grin. It’s clear she’s happy and comfortable knowing there’s a toddler in the house.
“Rolph, I didn’t know you were here.” My mother walks in, changed from her work clothes into a brown tracksuit with GO FOR IT across the top. She rubs a towel over her damp hair.
“Hello, Sarah. I gave Deb the use of my apartment so that she would have a quiet space to work. When it was time to pick up Teal from daycare, it seemed only fair that I take a turn, since she’s on a deadline.”
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