NOW

Snake’s idea is to break Shadow free.

We wait until dark, then bike back to the pound. Of course the doors are locked. The dogs bark from inside. This time Shadow is using his more serious bark. Three short barks in a row, a pause, then three more. Poor pup, locked in a smelly prison where innocent creatures are meaninglessly murdered.

“Hang on, I’m coming!” I yell to let him know help is on the way.

“Shh,” Snake says. “I don’t think anyone lives near here, but we shouldn’t take any chances.”

“What would they do if they caught us?”

“I don’t know. Call the police or something. We’d get in trouble for breaking in, but once we get Shadow, I doubt anyone will ever know we were here. You met that woman—she won’t even notice if Shadow is gone.”

“I hope not,” I whisper. “One cop near this town already saw me. I can’t risk being seen again. We can’t get caught.”

We go around to the back. There’s a high chainlink fence surrounding a small gravel yard where they let the dogs out to poop.

“I’ll climb over, find a loose window or something, and unlock the front for you,” Snake says.

I nod, glad I don’t have to attempt climbing the fence. It’s taller than I am.

Snake shimmies up one side and down the other like Spider-Man, and all of a sudden he’s in the yard. He starts fiddling with the windows to see if he can get one to open. No luck. He goes around to the other side of the building. I wait and am just about to go around to the front when he comes back frowning.

“There’s no open window.”

“Oh,” I say, deflated.

“There is one other way, though.” He points to the back door by the yard. “There’s a dog door. I can’t fit through, but you might be able to.”

I squint to see what he’s talking about. A small flap of plastic covers a rectangular cutout at the bottom of the door. “It looks pretty small,” I say.

“It’s our only chance. You’ll have to jump the fence first, though. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” I say. I jam my fingers and toes in between the metal spaces and attempt to hoist myself up. My foot slips out.

“Lift one hand, then a leg, then hand, then leg,” Snake directs. “Use your legs.”

I squeeze my calves and it’s a little easier.

“That’s it,” Snake says.

Slowly, I move one foot at a time. Eventually I manage to get to the top. I put my left leg over the metal bar. I try to pull the other leg over, and I’m horizontal. I clutch the thin bar for dear life. I’m sure that if I move, I will fall. It’s a good eight feet. It could hurt.

“Just take it slow,” Snake says encouragingly. “Try to lower one leg and find a grip.”

I can’t find a foothold at first and wave my leg around, but then I manage to get my toes into the space and from there it’s suddenly much easier to lower myself down. I jump the last bit and wipe my hands together. I smile triumphantly.

“Not bad,” Snake says. “Now through there.” He points to the dog door.

Is he serious? It looks even smaller up close. It may be big enough for a medium-size dog, but for a grown human, and a chubby one like me?

“It’s really small,” I say.

“You can fit easily,” Snake says.

“I . . . I’m not . . .” I start. “Have you seen me?”

“Have you seen you?”

I look down, embarrassed. No, I have not seen me, I think. I run my hands down my sides. Has my body changed? Have I actually become stronger? Smaller? Can that happen without even noticing?

I squat in front of the dog door. The dogs are barking up a storm inside. They know something is happening. I put one arm through the flap, twist my shoulder, and get the other arm in. I slide on my arms and legs and manage to crawl the rest of the way through.

I lie there on the floor for a second. There is no way I could have done this before. There’s no way I would have even tried. I listen to the barking pups. Once again I hear Shadow. Over here, he is saying.

I stand. I’m in a long hallway with barred cells on each side. In each cell is a dog. The two dogs closest to me, a big shepherd and a shaggy Lab mix, jump up with their front paws on the bars, stare at me with their sad eyes, and whimper.

I hear knocking from outside and realize Snake is still in the yard. I unlock the door and let him in.

“Is he here?” he asks.

I follow Shadow’s bark to one of the middle cells. When he sees me, he wags and wiggles like he’s on supercharge. He pushes his paws though the bars and tries to fit his nose through as well.

I open the cage and he flies into my arms and covers me with kisses. I sink my face into his neck, smelling his good doggy smell.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Can you ever forgive me?”

He rests his head on my shoulder. It’s okay, he says. You’re here. We stay like that, just hugging, and I realize something. I love this dog with all my heart. Maybe more than I’ve ever loved anything.

“We should go, before someone hears something,” Snake says.

The three of us start walking toward the front. It gets strangely quiet. The other dogs have all stopped barking. They watch in silence as we pass each cell. Shadow stops and sits. I stop, too.

“We can’t just leave them,” I say to Snake. “We have to let them out.”

“You want to set them all free?” Snake asks. “What if an owner comes in tomorrow to pick up his dog and it’s not here? Or what if someone wants to adopt one?”

“Yeah, but if not, they’ll kill them. All of them. The woman said this is a kill shelter.”

“They could die out there on their own, too. Stray dogs don’t have much of a chance,” Snake says.

“But at least they’ll have a chance.” I am adamant. “Instead of being locked up with no chance. I bet the ones with homes will know how to get back, and the others—they can always find someone.” I look down at Shadow.

Snake shakes his head, but he walks to one of the cages and pulls up the latch. “All right,” he says to the dog. “Go free.” A little bull-doggish puppy stumbles out. It waddles like a football on legs.

We release them one by one. Short legs, long legs, curly fur, straight fur, floppy ears, pointy ears, solid colors and spotted. They fly in all directions, tumbling over each other, wagging tails and sniffing butts. Snake and I laugh, it’s such a crazy scene, and their joy is contagious.

We head toward the hall that leads to the front door. The dogs are still scattered all over the place and not paying attention. Snake and I exchange glances—how will we get them to actually leave?

Snake yells at them to listen, but it’s no good—it’s mayhem.

Then Shadow circles around, trying to herd them toward the middle. A couple of them gather, but then they get distracted and run somewhere else. Shadow gives one loud listen-to-me bark, but the dogs don’t pay any mind. He looks at me, and says, You try.

I stand still, clap my hands, and whistle through my teeth. A few dogs stop and sit. “Come!” I yell. Surprisingly, some more dogs sit. I clap again. “This is your chance for freedom,” I tell them. “It may be your only chance.”

One by one all of the dogs go quiet. Then, when Shadow goes to herd them, they line up in rows of two and wait, giving me their full attention.

“Wow,” Snake says. “Impressive. You’re like a dog whisperer.”

Snake holds the front door open, and Shadow and I march the herd outside.

Immediately the dogs raise their noses and smell the wind. They jump around in a chaotic, happy dance. And then they disperse in all directions, running into the woods or down the road, some together, some on their own. Before we know it, Shadow is the only one left.

“That was fast,” Snake says. “It’s like they all knew where to go.”

“I hope so,” I say.

Snake picks up his bike and we are about to head back to the motel when we hear a grunt followed by a faint yip. The little bulldog puppy runs after us, as fast as it can on its stumpy legs. It’s got a nasty overbite and wheezes heavily. Snake picks it up, belly front.

“Hello, girl,” he says. The puppy licks Snake all over the face, and Snake pretends to be disgusted, but he’s grinning like mad. “She’s kind of pitiful, but I suppose someone has to take care of her,” he says. “I’ll call you Pity.” He puts the puppy into the bike basket.

I don’t see any of the other dogs on the ride back. I don’t know if they’ll survive or not. Maybe some will, maybe some won’t. But isn’t this the chance we all take in life? Survival isn’t always up to us, but all we can do is try.

Shadow runs beside us as we bike. He looks up at me and smiles. You did a good thing.

 

Now that I have Shadow I have to go. The cops wouldn’t be called in for one missing dog—but an entire empty shelter? The woman at the desk would surely remember Snake and me and assume we did it. The police will come, and then who knows what they’ll find out about me. And that cop who found me in the car might not give me another chance.

“They don’t have any proof it was us,” Snake says when I explain I have to go.

We are outside in the field behind the motel watching Pity and Shadow get to know each other. Shadow is on his back with his legs in the air, and Pity is jumping over him.

I point to them. “I think they are pretty obvious proof,” I say.

“But there’s no way they know where we live. The shelter never got our names or an address. You don’t have to leave, do you?” Snake says. “I’m getting used to you.”

I know I have to keep going—my feet have begun to heal and my muscles are finally calm. “I don’t know,” I say. On the other hand, I am not exactly looking forward to dumpster diving again, cold nights outside, and endless days of more walking.

Snake whispers: “Stay. Please. You could work here. You could help Constance with the cleaning—she sure needs it.”

No one has ever wanted me to stay. There is a part of me that wants to stay here with Snake, maybe a part of me that doesn’t even want to go home at all. But it’s only because I’m afraid of what I might find.

“I’ll stay one more night and go tomorrow,” I say.

Snake nods and gazes at the sky. “All right. I understand. I wasn’t entirely serious about the job, but if you do ever need one . . .”

I follow his gaze. The sky is dotted with brilliant white, lumpy clouds. The air has a crispness to it that makes the rest of the sky extra blue and the grass extra green.

Snake breaks into his big-toothed grin. “When was the last time you lay on the grass and looked up at the clouds?” he asks.

I think back to how I met Jake. Didn’t we lie side by side? But then I remember I am remembering it wrong. I was the one who got up; Jake didn’t lie next to me at all. “I don’t know,” I say.

Snake takes my hand. I let him run me up the grassy knoll. He plops himself down, and me with him. The grass isn’t exactly soft. It’s a little prickly and dry. But it smells good and feels good on my back.

Shadow is enjoying himself, having a good roll, getting a back scratch. Pity crawls on top of him and nibbles at one of his legs. Shadow nuzzles her and they start to wrestle.

It was breezy when we were standing, but everything is still when we are horizontal. We watch the puffy clouds roll along. The sun warms me with an occasional peek through. This is what children do, I think.

“See that cloud?” Snake says, pointing. “It looks like an alligator. See its teeth and long snout?”

I’m not sure I do, but I nod anyway.

“Now it’s morphing into a fish,” he says.

I turn my head and watch Snake watching the sky. His mouth is slightly open, his chest goes up and down with his breath. We are close enough to touch, but we don’t. He catches me watching and smiles.

“You’re not looking,” Snake says.

I stare hard at the clouds until I start to recognize shapes. First I see the fish he was talking about, with fat lips and a skinny tail fin. It turns into something that looks like a mushroom, then a heart. Then the same cloud starts to take the form of a house.

As we pick out shapes in the sky, the wind picks up and a dark cloud moves in. It moves fast. Snake says something about a sudden storm, we should go. He gets up, but I stay there watching as the cloud covers the roof, making it look like smoke coming out of the house. Then the whole house disappears behind the dark cloud. What was a bright, sunny day is now dark and stormy. A thunderous clap shatters the earth and the cloud house explodes into a million little pieces of cloud particles that rain down on me.

The burning odor of smoke comes to me. I jump up. The rain pours down, and lightning flashes up the darkened sky for an instant, followed by another tremendous roar. I run.

I am aware of my name being called, and a hand grabs mine. I free myself from the hand. The rain is so heavy I can’t see a thing, but I run. I have to get away. I have to find safety. I have to find help. I have to find something. Explosion is all around me.

All dead. All dead. All dead.

Suddenly the hands catch hold of me and I jerk back. Snake covers me with both his arms and pulls me to him. I hide my face in his collar.

“It’s okay,” he says, rubbing my back. “It’s okay.”

The water gushes down in a solid sheet. There are more explosions. I scream.

“It’s only thunder,” Snake says.

“It’s more than that,” I say. I’m not sure what I mean. I never used to be afraid of thunder. But this house exploding, something tells me it’s real.

“Let’s get back,” Snake yells. He takes my hand. I clasp it tight. We run to the motel as fast as we can, even though we’re already drenched.

 

It’s dark and it’s still storming. I’ve been waiting for it to ease up so that I can leave, but if anything it’s raining harder. Snake has gone to the office and I’m alone with the dogs. I roll a pine cone around the floor in circles while Pity chases it, occasionally giving up and plopping on the floor in a frog-leg position, until I tease her again. Shadow watches and rolls his eyes at how silly the puppy is.

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “This puppy is not coming with us.”

I’m not worried, he says.

I’m still really shaken up from this afternoon and the playing actually relaxes me.

Snake comes bustling in all wet and winded. “It’s nasty out there,” he says. Both Pity and Shadow run up to greet him. Suddenly I want to tell Snake all about the chant and the burning ash, but he’ll think I’m crazy, and maybe I am—who knows? The only way I will ever know for sure is to get home. Raining or not, waiting around here is not getting me any closer to figuring anything out.

“I have to go,” I say. “For real. I can’t risk the police finding me.” So much for tomorrow. Now is the moment, right? I pace around the room.

Snake holds my shoulders. “Wait,” he says with such clarity that I stop. “It’s pouring out there.”

The rain pelts the roof like nails being hammered into it. As if to prove Snake right, another flash of lightning lights up the sky, followed by more thunder.

Snake looks at my sneakers. The duct tape is peeling off because they are so wet.

“There’s another way you can go, without walking so much,” he says. “You can take a train.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have money for a train. Besides, they don’t allow dogs.”

“There are other ways to take a train,” Snake says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Train hopping is free.” He gazes at his sculptures on the shelf as if thinking of something important.

“You mean like jumping on a train? Like a stowaway? Isn’t that dangerous? Isn’t that illegal?”

“I used to do it all the time. I know people who still do. It can be dangerous, but I could go with you. Make sure nothing happens.” Snake sits up, suddenly all excited. “My friends live near the tracks. I’ll close the motel for a couple of days. We can hop a train there tomorrow, maybe stay a little while, and then you can hop a train the rest of the way on your own.”

“Can you close the motel? What about guests?”

“There’s nothing booked till the weekend. It costs more to keep the place open than to close it. Besides, I wouldn’t mind seeing some of my old buds.”

“I don’t know,” I say.

Thunder crashes again and Pity jumps onto the bed. I sit with her and rub her belly. She’s so soft, like a little baby.

Snake sits next to me. “You’re really good with dogs,” he says. “Like at the shelter, they all just listened to you.”

“I never used to like dogs,” I say, gazing into Pity’s big puppy eyes. Shadow comes over and whines, so I scratch him behind the ears with one hand and keep rubbing Pity with the other. “But now I can’t imagine life without Shadow. I’d have to take him on the train, too.”

“Of course the dogs can come.”

We sit there a few minutes, then Snake goes over to the chair where he’s been sleeping since I got here.

“I feel bad taking your bed,” I say.

“I’m fine here,” he says. “Really.” He turns out the light.

I lie awake, listening to the rain and the tiny ticking of the robot clock.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” I ask. I don’t know where this comes from or why I ask. I don’t know if Snake wants sex or not. He has not made any moves on me or any overtures that I can tell. He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we are two people of opposite genders, alone in a room at night, and he’s letting me stay for nothing. At some point he’s going to expect something.

At first I don’t think he heard, but after a minute he gets up and lies down next to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

I lean into him and press my lips against his in a hard kiss. I pull his shoulders toward me so that he’s half on top of me.

All of a sudden, like he’s just forgotten something, Snake breaks away and sits up. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“But, I thought . . .” I pause. “I mean, you’re letting me stay here for free.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Really. I don’t want sex. Not like this. I want to help you.”

Funny, that’s what Clara said. Well, not the sex part but about wanting to help. “Why?” I ask.

“You need help,” he says. “More than you need sex.”

I laugh at this a little bit. He’s rejecting me and I’m laughing.

Snake goes on, “Not that I don’t find you attractive. I totally do. I think you’re beautiful and sad and really interesting. There’s something deep inside you. It’s just that it’s not always about the fooling around, you know. I don’t want to be that guy.”

I roll over with my back to him. I fiddle with my bracelet. It’s fraying. The colors are faded. It looks like a dirty, limp string around my wrist. “I have a boyfriend anyway,” I blurt. “He’s back home.”

“Oh,” Snake says. Silence for a minute, then: “He must be looking forward to seeing you.”

“I guess,” I say.

Snake shifts away from me and moves to get out of the bed. Now he must think I’m a real jerk.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “He’s not really a boyfriend. I don’t know what he is. I don’t even think he knows or cares where I am. He’s some guy I thought loved me, but now I don’t know. I’m confused.”

Snake lies down again. “Do you want to just cuddle? We don’t have to do anything,” he says.

“Okay.”

We shift so that his body wraps around mine. I stare at the copperhead on his arm as it coils around me. I remind myself that this is Snake, not Jake. Did Jake and I ever cuddle? I may not remember everything, but I’m pretty sure we never did. Snake starts snoring lightly, and I feel his warm, minty breath on my neck.

I think about getting home. It’s not only to see Jake. It’s to finish my last year of school, to be in my room, to see my parents. I miss my parents. They may not be perfect, but I know they care. I ought to be nicer to them. I will be nicer to them. But what if it’s too late? I shiver.

I know the stretch coming up is going to be especially hilly. So far, I’ve been lucky. I’ve managed to find food, places to sleep. I’ve avoided arrest. And my body has kept going. Will it keep going? A train, I think. A train would be easy. A train would be fast.

Shadow wakes from his spot on the foot of the bed and gives me a sideways glance. I can see the whites in the corners of his eyes. “What should I do?” I whisper.

Shadow blinks. Try it, he says.