by Ria Voros
The dog looks up the street and then crosses. We leave my house behind.
We walk down the middle of the boulevard, along the street that leads to the grocery store and then down the hill, toward the harbour. I haven’t been out this late since my dad took me camping in Manning Park and we stayed up to watch the stars. That’s when he told me about Sirius, the dog star. Brightest in the sky. I paid attention when he talked about it because it’s in Canis Major, the big dog constellation.
I thought it might be cool to name my dog Sirius. Now, as I look for it, I think it’s perfect that there’s a giant dog in the sky looking down at me — a tiny moving speck on a small street.
We walk down Mahon Avenue in the middle of the night. I feel alive. I feel bright somehow. The dog’s bouncing along ahead of me and a few cars drive past, but no one stops or honks or seems surprised there’s a kid walking around this late. I guess if I look like I have somewhere to be, like I belong here, no one cares. I’m tall for my age, and with my hood pulled up, maybe I can pass for older. I take bigger steps. It starts to feel like I imagined it would.
We walk all the way to the Quay, where the tug boats and ferries are moored. The dog doesn’t come up to me, but he stays close, and if I get too slow he waits for me. He pees on everything. I wonder what would happen if I peed on something, and since I have to go anyway, I step behind a tree and pee on the trunk. The dog turns around to see what I’m doing. He sniffs the spot for a long time.
“I know marking with pee is really important for dogs, but you’re kind of obsessive.”
As if to reply, he lifts his leg and pees right next to my spot.
“What’s your name?” I ask him. There’s no collar around his neck. Maybe he’s a stray.
He looks across the street to the empty parking lot in front of the water. I haven’t been down here in a long time, not since last time I took the Seabus, when Aunt Laura and I went to see an Imax movie downtown. It was her first try at us doing something together, and even though the movie was a lame animation, I pretended to like it. She pretended to like it too and we had this weird conversation where we tried to act like we enjoyed it when it was obvious neither of us did.
Now there’s a new pier beside the parking lot, reaching out into the sea, and the dog heads for it. He trots across the road like there’s no worry about cars — and there aren’t many this late, but I wonder what happens during the day, if he’s ever been hit. Some dogs just don’t understand cars.
I follow him across the parking lot and we walk down the pier. He jumps onto the short cement wall and trots along it, glancing into the water. He’s just so sure of himself. Like I want to be — confident and not afraid of anything. Cool.
I jump up too and we look out over the black ocean, toward downtown and the lights of the skyscrapers. They’re way brighter down here, not dim and twinkly like they are from my house. I guess it’s a little like stars — it depends where you’re seeing them from.
The dog comes to the end of the pier and jumps off the wall. He sniffs around for a while, but I stay up there, watching the ocean. Suddenly a dark round head comes up from the water.
“Hey!” I shout.
I feel a breeze beside me and the dog’s there, looking over the side too. It’s like he’s saying, What is it?
“Over there.” I motion out on the water.
The head bobs, and then I see it’s got a snout. A seal.
The dog sniffs the air, staring at the seal too. He leans a little over the edge.
“Whoa, don’t fall in,” I say. I put my hand on his back, the coarse fur on top. It’s cool on my skin, but underneath, the soft fur is warm. I wish we could just stand there together, but after a minute he jumps down again. He felt so solid.
I look back at the way we’ve come. From here I can see all the way up the hill — the main street with lights along it and houses on both sides. Some have lights on but most don’t. I try to figure out where mine would be. I’m getting a little cold standing still, even with my hoodie on. I stick my hands in my pockets.
The dog trots back up the pier. I’ve never had so many questions for something that can’t answer me. Where does he live? Is he a stray? He looks pretty well cared for and well-fed. Does he have nice owners who are looking for him right now? How is he going to find his way home?
We walk back up the hill, sort of in the direction of my house. My watch says 1:52. This dog must have super strength and never need to sleep. He walks with his tail flagging the air, and even though he’s got almost no pee left, he still lifts his leg and lets a tiny dribble come out.
“Where to now?” I ask. I’m not ready to go home, but a place to sit and rest would be nice. And I could handle a sandwich or something. My stomach growls.
I sit on some steps leading to an apartment building.
A car drives by with really loud rap blaring and someone yells out of the window at us. A hoarse voice carries through the air above the thumping bass: “Hey, kid — does your mommy know you’re not in bed?” It has the opposite effect on J than it would on me. J yells back, “Does your mother know you’re a pathetic loser?” I yell even after they’ve turned the corner. It feels so good to fill my lungs with breath and spit out words like that.
The dog stops scratching his ear and looks at me. His eyes are orangey brown in the streetlight.
“That’s how it’s done,” I say to him. “See that? No more boring, invisible Jakob!”
“Hey!”
I jump up.
Someone’s leaning out of an apartment window. A man with no shirt on. “Keep it down, kid. Go home and act crazy there.”
I take a step to leave, but J comes roaring back. “It’s a free world!” I yell.
He holds out his phone. “Oh yeah? There’s cops around here who’ll tell you different. Want me to call them?”
“Uh, no thanks!” I say, and sprint up the street, the dog at my heels. I think we both got a kick out of that.
I can’t believe J just did that — and got away with it. I feel light, lighter than air. I never want to go home.
The dog takes a left onto Sixth Street and sniffs around in the bushes. He comes out chomping something, probably garbage from someone’s patio, but it reminds me that I’m starving.
I head down the street in the direction of my house, and the dog comes too, but after a block he wants to cross the street.
“I’m this way,” I say, pointing. “I’m going to grab some food. You know food? Treats?”
His ears prick up. He knows treats.
I have to be careful around our house. Even though it’s two in the morning, anyone could be looking out their windows. If it was me, I’d keep the dog away, go home and call it a lucky, awesome night, but J pushes the gate open and lets the dog into the backyard. The dog bounds around the dry grass, his tail flying, and I grab him in case Soleil’s awake.
I start for the stairs. The dog sees where I’m going and tries to get up there first, but I hold him by the shoulders. He’s got a lot of muscle under that coat. Reminds me that he’s an animal, a wolf cousin. And I don’t know him that well. He looks up at me.
“Your claws will make too much noise on the floor,” I whisper. “You can’t come in — someone might hear you.”
I look around for something to tie him up with. Since he’s not wearing a collar, I’ll need something pretty long. In a bucket under the deck, I find the rope Aunt Laura uses as a laundry line. I tie it around his neck and then around the railing of the stairs. He pulls a little but it holds.
“Stay there for a minute. I’ll be back.” I tiptoe up the stairs and unlock the door. The dog looks up at me with his fuzzy triangle ears pointing to the sky. He stays.
Inside I grab a granola bar and look for something to give him. I settle on cheese, since the only other thing is bacon, and it’s raw and Aunt Laura would definitely be suspicious if uncooked bacon disappeared in the middle of the night. Maybe I’ll buy a bag of dog treats and keep
it in my room in case the dog comes back. I’ve already decided he will.
I sneak back outside and feed him his treat. He gobbles it down without even chewing it and sniffs for more. I eat my granola bar sitting on the first step with his eyes following my every move. He’s almost as tall standing up as I am sitting down. He sniffs my hands for granola crumbs. His nose is cold and wet and his whiskers tickle my palm. The tips of his ears are like puppy fur. He lets me pet them for a moment. I get the feeling he doesn’t let everyone do that.
Then a light comes on behind me in a window under the deck. My heart skids to a stop and I dive off the stairs, pulling the dog with me, out of view. Shielded by the pile of junk under the deck, I squint at the little square of window I can see between a watering can and a stack of wood. Soleil moves around the kitchen with a teapot. What is she doing up at this hour? I realize I’m gripping the laundry rope around the dog’s neck and let it go a little. The dog tries to get up and I whisper to him, “Just stay for a second — if she sees you we’ll be dead!”
Soleil glances at something on the windowsill. She grabs the phone and dials. Finally she leaves the kitchen and I decide it’s our time to make a move — who knows when she’ll be back.
I squat beside the dog and untie him. “We’ve got to get out of here. You have to follow me, okay?”
The dog doesn’t need any convincing. He leaps when I let him go and we race across the yard toward the gate, except he gets there way before I do, and just as I reach to pull the gate closed behind me, Soleil’s door opens.
“Jakob?”
I freeze with my back to the voice, watching the dog, safe on the street, watching me. He waits to see if I’m coming. I motion for him to go, get out of here. There’s no saving me now. I turn.
“Jakob, what are you doing?” It’s not Soleil. Libby stands in the doorway in yellow pyjamas and a black sweater.
My mind races. Think: what am I doing?
She pushes the hair out of her face, looking half asleep. “I thought I saw something in the backyard. Why are you out here?”
“What are you doing up?” I say before I can stop J from speaking. But it buys me some thinking time.
She looks surprised. “I couldn’t sleep. Mom’s making tea and we’re watching TV. What about you?”
J has the words ready just in time. “I saw something out here. I think it was a raccoon. I came out to see — it went through the gate.” I point, hoping the dog is long gone.
Libby pulls her sweater tighter and closes the door behind her. “Is that what it was?”
“Yup.” I close the gate, glancing to the street, and there’s no sign of the dog.
Libby looks suspicious. “How could you see a raccoon in the back yard from your bedroom? Your window faces the street, like mine.”
I walk slowly toward the stairs, trying to look insulted. “I heard it. Didn’t you? You think I’m lying?”
She leans against the doorframe and crosses her arms. “Uh huh.”
I have no idea what she’ll say next. I just want to get upstairs and inside. “What do you know? I’ve heard raccoons before. I know what they sound like.”
Libby gives me a long stare. “You think I’m stupid.”
Maybe it would have been easier if Soleil had seen me. “No, I never said that.”
“You were doing something else, I know it. You were running away.”
I hold out my hands and at least I can be honest about this. “No way, Libby. I was not running away.” At least, not running far.
She doesn’t look like she buys it.
“Look, I don’t care if you believe me. I saw what I saw.”
She lifts her chin. “Heard, you mean.”
“Heard too. Man, you’re like a bloodhound.” This is the most I’ve ever heard her say. I take another step and hope she’s getting the hint to go back inside.
“Jakob?”
“Yeah?” I turn.
She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding the noose on the end of the laundry rope that minutes ago was around the dog’s neck. She gathers it and throws it back into the bucket. “Goodnight.”
Chapter 4
The next day I’m lying on a towel in the backyard after lunch, reading an X-Men comic for the twentieth time, when Soleil comes out of the suite. She’s wearing a red dress and pointy shoes and her hair is wavy. She’s got a weird work schedule I can’t figure out, and considering she’s a dog groomer, she has a weird uniform too. But I’m not complaining.
“Hey, J-man,” she says and hunches down beside me in the grass. “Whatcha reading?”
I flip the cover over so she can see.
“Hmm. Looks violent. Lots of blood and gore?”
I lean on my elbow. “Nah. It’s kind of boring. I’ve read it a million times.”
“I bet you’re a super-fast reader.”
I shrug, thinking she means because I have nothing better to do. “You got an audition?”
“Job interview,” she says. “I’m looking for something better than the dog groomer’s. There’s only so much shampoo and nail clipping one can take.” She smiles down at me.
“Where’s Libby?”
Soleil’s eyebrows go up. “Well, since you asked, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
I sit up, worried. “It is?”
“There’s been some, uh, problems with Libby’s summer camp.” She waves her hand. “Stuff I won’t bore you with — but today is her last day there. I’m letting her stay home for a while.”
“I could have told you camps were trouble,” I say, though I’m curious what the “problems” are.
“Yeah, well it’s not Libby, I can tell you that. Some people’s kids …” She looks over the fence at something.
I wait, not sure what to say next.
“Anyway.” She shakes her head. “I already talked with Laura, but I wanted to ask you before I said anything to Libby. Could she hang out with you? Only for a little while, maybe a week or two at the most. It would help me out so much, J-man.”
No. No way. I will not babysit a kid who got kicked out of a lame art camp and who might have evidence against me. I stare at the grass, trying to think of a way to let her down.
“J-man, I’m really counting on you. Libby likes you, I can tell, and I’d rather not leave her alone. It’s just until I get things sorted out with work.”
“I don’t know,” I mumble.
“Look, I know it’s not ideal, but I trust you. I know you’re a responsible kid.”
“I don’t babysit,” I say, lying back down on my stomach.
“That’s fine — you don’t need to babysit her, she’s twelve. You’re just hanging out.”
A thought comes into my head. I look up at Soleil. She’s got a desperate look on her face.
“But say I was sort of babysitting. I’d be getting, you know, money.” The instant I say it, I feel bad, knowing she’s looking for a job.
Soleil looks over the fence again. “You’re right. Of course.”
“It’s just, I mean —” I don’t know what I mean. I wish she’d leave and I could go back to my comic like nothing happened.
“I can’t afford a lot, Jakob, but how’s thirty bucks for a week, starting tomorrow?”
I stop mumbling. I could have enough money to adopt a dog by the end of the summer. And I’ll be showing more responsibility.
“Sure,” I say. “ I’ll do it.”
A few hours later I find out how Libby feels about this new arrangement.
“This sucks, Mom!” I hear her shout downstairs. Their windows are open, like ours, because it’s so hot. I had no idea Libby even had a loud setting.
Soleil says something I can’t make out.
“But he doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m a loser.”
“No, he doesn’t. I’m sure he thinks you’re wonderful.”
“Not wonderful, Mom. And I don’t need to be babysat.”
“It’s not babysitting,” S
oleil says.
I lean out my window to hear better.
“Are you paying him?” Libby asks.
“That’s not the point. You can’t go back to camp and I can’t leave you alone. That’s the end of it.”
“He stays alone all day. Why can’t I?”
“Doesn’t it seem a little silly to have both of you alone but in the same house? Libby, there is no negotiation here.”
“I can’t believe this.” A door slams. Her bedroom door.
“Lib.”
I can hear Soleil knocking on the door. “Lib, open up. I just don’t want it to be like last time, okay? I’m trying to protect you.”
I don’t hear the door open and Soleil doesn’t say anything else.
* * *
j, that’s a crazy story about the dog. maybe you can keep it if no one owns it. did you mean you walk him at night? must be awesome to explore in the dark. hope you don’t get mugged lol! france is definitely great — by france I mean girls. i’ll fill you in when i’m home.
* * *
My mom sits on the couch, shelling peanuts into a bowl, as I tell her what the kids have been calling me at school. Nobody wants to play, and nobody wants to be Nobody’s friend! She hands me a peanut and it grows in my palm until it’s an apple. Another weird dream. I take a bite. They’re just kids, she says. They have no idea how great you are. Just hang around people who do. I want to tell her that hanging around my parents all the time isn’t a lot of fun, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She reaches out to touch my face.
The shriek of my alarm makes me bolt out of sleep. Midnight. I slam the snooze button and look out the window. The dog’s not there.
I stand with my head out of the window for twenty minutes, listening to every little sound on the street. A few cars drive by. A cat screeches behind someone’s house. A waft of skunk hits my nose and makes me want to gag. Maybe the cat got sprayed. You have to watch it around here with skunks.
Twenty-five minutes and the dog still hasn’t shown up. I start to get the feeling he’s not coming. Maybe he roams a different place every night. Maybe he got locked inside. Then a thought hits me: maybe he got picked up by the pound. I think about turning on my computer to look up the pound’s number, but just then I see a shape moving on the other side of the street.