Brigit
When they returned to the dorm room, the girl who lived on the other side of the room, the one Megan seemed to call Emily, hissed at them from her chair at her desk. “Shhh!”
Brigit was a smart dog, and she could tell by the tone and cadence and volume of a person’s voice, as well as their scent, what type of mood they were in. Emily had seemed happier the last couple of times they’d been around her, but now she seemed angry again. The girl was like a cat, her moods changing on a whim. Brigit knew cats. She was forced to live with one, a spotted, fluffy one named Zoe. Sometimes Zoe curled up against Brigit and purred. Other times she swiped at Brigit with her claws out, drawing blood. Yep, this girl was as unpredictable as a cat. But at least at the house Brigit had other rooms she could go into to get away from Zoe. Here, there was nowhere for her and Megan to go.
Brigit looked forward to the day when they could have their own bedroom back at the house. They were going back to the house, weren’t they?