“Darcy,” Kat says.
I force my eyes open and see her standing ghostlike beside my bed.
“Can I sleep with you?”
This is a first. In the past she just climbed in.
I pull back the blankets and move over. Way over. She climbs in but stays close to the edge. She turns so her back is to me. Even from a few inches away I can sense the tension in her body as she clings to the edge of the bed.
I remember how Kat used to press her cold little body up against mine, pop her thumb in her mouth and we’d fall asleep, like a couple of kittens snoozing in a wicker basket.
I roll over so my back is to her. I feel like a shit.
S
HE'S GONE WHEN
I wake up. I find her in the kitchen eating cereal. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” There are black smudges under her eyes.
I pour myself a bowl of cereal and join her at the table.
“I want to meet her,” she signs. It comes out of nowhere.
“Our mom?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you have much choice about that.”
“I know. I just want you to know I’m okay with it.”
“You’re not mad at her?”
She shakes her head, looking thoughtful. “I don’t remember anything. It’s different for you. You have bad memories.”
We go back to eating.
“I just want a mom.” She brushes a tear off her cheek.
My heart aches for her. “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed,” I sign. “She hasn’t been a model parent so far.”
Kat shrugs. “I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”
“For what?”
“For wanting to see her.”
“Oh, Kat.”
“I want to give her a chance.”
“Okay.”
“But I don’t want to let you down.”
“How would you be letting me down?”
“I know you hate her, so I feel like I’m supposed to hate her too.”
I really am a shit.
O
N FRIDAY NIGHT
we spot Eileen Gilbert’s car parked outside again. Kat immediately breaks into a sprint, covering the last half of the block in seconds. By the time I arrive in the living room, Kat is on the floor stroking Star, and Dad and Eileen are sitting at the table, reading over some official-looking documents.
“I get to keep her all weekend!” Kat signs to me.
“Yeah?” She should tell someone who cares.
Eileen comes back to the living room and greets me. “Your dad tells me that he’s ready to give dog ownership a try,” she says. “Star is a well-mannered, gentle dog who responds to a lot of sign language already. She didn’t quite make it as a guide dog, but I think she’d be a really good pet for your sister. And it may turn out that she can protect Kat during a seizure.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
“I’ll be back to pick her up on Sunday afternoon. We’ll talk about how the weekend went then.” She pats Star one last time and then quietly slips out the door.
Dad and I stand in the kitchen, looking down on Kat and Star. She looks up at us with tears in her eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” she says.
He glances quickly at me before turning back to her. He clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says.
“Let’s take her for a walk, Darcy,” Kat suggests with her hands.
“You go ahead. I’m feeling a little lazy right now.” That’s a lie. I am feeling something, but I’m not sure what it is.
“You sure?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Kat puts Star on her leash, tucks a plastic bag in her pocket as Eileen instructed and heads out the door. I watch them from the living room window. Star trots along at Kat’s side, looking up at her now and then. Kat’s so happy she’s practically dancing down the sidewalk.
“She is kinda cute, isn’t she,” Dad says, coming up beside me.
I look at him. “Who? The dog?”
He laughs. “Yeah, she’s okay for a dog. But I meant Kat.”
I don’t say anything. It’s too bizarre. Dad is finally taking notice of his daughter just before he plans to pack her up and ship her off.
I
FIND
S
TAR
lying right beside Kat’s bed when I go in to say good night. She scrambles up to greet me when I come into the room.
“Lie down,” I order.
Star looks hurt but pads back to her place beside Kat.
“Don’t you just love her?” Kat asks, unaware of how sharply I just spoke.
“Oh, yeah,” I answer. “I just love her to pieces.”
Kat knows from the expression on my face that I’m not serious. “You will, Darcy. Once you get used to her.”
Yeah right, I think. Like that’s going to happen.
K
AT BURSTS INTO
tears when she sees Eileen pulling up to our house on Sunday afternoon. She has spent every waking moment of the weekend with Star, and I swear she’s taught that dog more sign language than you’d think was possible.
Dad lets Eileen into the house. Eileen’s glance takes in Kat, who is now sobbing uncontrollably, and then Dad, who just shrugs. “She doesn’t want you to take Star back,” he says.
“Oh,” she says. “They must be getting along.”
“That they are,” Dad agrees.
“We can extend the trial period if you like,” she says to my dad.
“I think we’re going to have to,” he says, turning his back to Kat. “But I must tell you, Eileen. Kat is probably moving back in with her mother soon. I hope that won’t change anything.”
“Have you asked her mother if she’s willing to take a dog?”
“No,” Dad admits. He pauses, and in that moment I see an odd expression cross his face, as if he’s just remembered something relevant. He thinks about it, but says only, “I doubt it’ll be a problem.”
Eileen looks skeptical. “If she’s going back to her mother, why did you choose now to get her a dog?” I notice a hint of irritation in her voice. “I have the dog’s welfare to consider too, and I wasn’t anticipating another move for her so soon.”
“The timing isn’t perfect, I know,” he says. “It’s just the way it worked out. And besides,” he adds, “maybe the dog will help Kat make the transition better.
Eileen turns to face Kat and Star again. “Hi, Star,” she says.
Star’s tail thumps on the floor but she doesn’t leave Kat’s side.
“Come, Star,” she signs.
With an anxious look at the sobbing Kat, Star pads across the floor to Eileen’s side. “Good girl,” she says. She strokes the dog and talks quietly to her. Eventually she speaks to Dad again. “I can see that Star has adapted well to Kat,” she says. “I’ll leave her, if you like, and we’ll just keep our fingers crossed that the move to Kat’s mom’s goes smoothly. I won’t finalize the adoption until we see how it works out.”
Dad nods. “Thank you. I’m sure everything will work out fine, but that’s probably a good plan.”
Eileen signs to Kat. “Would you like to keep her a little longer?” she asks.
Kat nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “How long?”
“We’re not sure yet. But for a while.”
Kat jumps up and scampers across the room to hug Eileen. Then she hugs Star again. Star’s tail thumps and she barks once.
That ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach has returned and I have to leave the room. I’m sure Kat doesn’t even notice.
S
tar’s arrival has wreaked havoc with our perfectly ordered routine. Now that Kat has to walk and feed her in the morning, she no longer has time to make me breakfast or pack me a lunch. In the commotion this morning, Kat almost forgot to take her medication—despite reminders from me—and she became a blubbering idiot when it was time to say goodbye to the dog and get on the bus.
I am all but forgotten.
To make matters worse, the front page of today’s paper features Mom’s release from prison. Dad was right. In the picture, the gathered mob looks angry, and Mom looks scared to death. Serves her right.
Turning the page I find myself staring into my own eyes. Talk about a vacant expression. Beside me in the picture is my father, his phony-ass arm draped across my shoulder, and Kat is leaning against me on the other side. The story doesn’t say much, except for some drivel about how forgiving and gracious we all are about Mom’s release. No doubt they’d been hoping to run a scandalous story featuring an over-protective, loving father and his fearful, distrusting children, all of whom are appalled that the mother is being given parole. I bet we were a big disappointment. Maybe I should have spoken up. Exposing some of our secrets might have put us on the front page, right there beside Mom. As it is, Ms. Wetzell’s fireworks seem to be fizzling out.
Just as I’m about to leave—lunchless—I notice Star and her sad brown eyes staring at me from the doorway to Kat’s bedroom. I have to be careful. This is one cagey dog. She figures if she’s patient long enough, and good enough, and pretty enough, I’ll eventually give in and love her. I can’t let that happen. I turn and go out the door without a word.
Unfortunately, I have to come home and collect her after school. Kat has permission from Mrs. K to bring her baby-sitting with us, and it’s up to me to come home and fetch her before heading over there.
She greets me warily, tail wagging, but not too enthusiastically. I put on her leash and we begin the six-block walk.
It is an unnerving experience.
Complete strangers feel that having a pretty dog at your side is an open invitation for interaction, to pat it and to tell you all about their dog or their neighbor’s dog or their great aunt’s dog. Kids are the worst. They’re all over Star, mauling her and asking me dumb questions. What kind of dog is she? How old is she? Is she a girl dog or a boy dog?
I’m beginning to think I may never get to Sammy’s. Then, just when I’ve unraveled myself from the last one and Sammy’s driveway is almost in sight, a car pulls up to the curb and Gem jumps out of the passenger seat.
“Darcy! I didn’t know you had a golden retriever,” she squeals. She puts her hand out to let Star sniff her and then gives the dog’s back a good hard thumping. Star seems to enjoy it. Gem must know something about dogs. I glance into the car and meet the eyes of the driver. He looks unimpressed.
“She’s not mine,” I tell her. “She’s my little sister’s, at least for now.”
“For now?”
“We’ve got her on a trial basis, to see if it works out.”
“Hmm.” Now Gem has one of Star’s ears in each hand and is gently massaging them. The skin on the back of her hands is the color of milk chocolate. Her nails are painted pale pink. “She’s a real beauty.”
I have nothing to say to that. I glance again at the driver of the car. He’s glaring back at me. “I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend,” I say.
“I don’t,” Gem says. She glances at the driver too. That’s just my brother.”
“Oh.” Why am I relieved to hear that?
“I gotta go,” I say, finally dragging my eyes away from her hands. For a moment I find myself wishing I were Star, or at least Star’s ears. What has come over me? I’m getting soft. “I’m late for work.”
She leans over and kisses the top of the dog’s head. Yuck. And she’s worried about having nicotine breath?
“See you tomorrow,” she says before hopping back into her brother’s car.
I
FIND
K
AT
and Sammy waiting in the front yard for us. With delighted squeals they race over and greet Star. I may as well be invisible. Mrs. K comes out of the house and greets the dog too. Maybe I’ll just leave and let Star baby-sit.
“Hi, Darcy,” Mrs. K says, finally. “I saw your picture in the paper today.”
“Oh, yeah.”
She gives me a look I can’t read. “Everything all right?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“Good,” she says, nodding. “And Kat? She’s dealing with everything okay?”
I’m not quite sure what she’s referring to, but it doesn’t really matter. “Yeah, Star’s taken her mind off everything else.”
“That’s good.”
I have to agree with that.
“I have to run,” she says. “I left a note on the counter for you.” She turns to leave.
“Okay.”
“Oh.” She swings back around to face me. “I also mentioned in the note that Geoff and I have both decided to take next week off, to spend it with Sammy.”
“Oh. Okay.” Geoff is Sammy’s dad.
“I’m sorry about the short notice, Darcy, but,” she frowns, “we’re a little concerned about her.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, we’ve noticed that she just hasn’t been herself. We’re hoping that she just needs a little more of our attention.”
Actually, I’ve noticed that Sammy’s been acting kind of strange too. She’s been more clingy than ever, but then lashes out at the strangest things. “Okay. No problem.”
“Thanks, Darcy. I appreciate that. And a week off will be like a little holiday for you, won’t it? Maybe you can hang out with your friends, play some sports or something.”
Shows how well she knows me. I smile politely and nod.
“All right then, I’m gone,” she says. Sammy is chasing Star, who seems to understand the game of tag perfectly. Mrs. K hugs Sam, who doesn’t hug back or become anxious because she’s too busy struggling to be set loose. Star is way more interesting than her mother at this moment. Or me.
How quickly I’ve been replaced.
M
S
. W
ETZELL CALLS
me into her office.
“How’s it going, Darcy?” she asks.
“Fine.”
“Your mom is out of prison now.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“And you survived the media frenzy.”
“So far so good.”
“I wonder how your mom is faring. She’ll be recognized wherever she goes. It won’t be easy.”
“That’s not my problem.”
She sighs. “I got a call from your sister’s school this morning. It’s a message for you. Apparently your dad called them to say he’s decided to pick Kat up early and take her over to see your mom.”
“He has? Why didn’t he tell me?” I try to swallow my alarm, conceal it from her, but I can feel my cheeks burning.
“Does he always have to check in with you, Darcy?” she asks softly.
“I would have prepared Kat,” I said. “This is going to be hard for her.”
“I’m sure your dad will do that.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” I blurt out, giving away more than I intend to.
Ms. Wetzell studies me a moment too long. “I know you’re not a guy who likes to talk about stuff, Darcy, but have you thought of keeping a journal, so you can record your feelings about the things in your life?”