Buddy! Buddy!
We hear him barking, feet shuffling through brush,
and eventually he blunders into the clearing
next to the water.
I set the backpack down near the Sitting Stones.
Buddy’s face and paws are covered in dirt
like he’s discovered it for the very first time.
Let’s carve!
Malia unfolds the knives, hands one to me.
I’ve never carved a pumpkin on my own.
We set it between the stones,
and Malia slices into the orange flesh.
Ewwwww, she laughs. Dig in.
We take turns scooping seeds and pumpkin guts into an orange pile.
Buddy licks at the guts, gnaws a little on the seeds, spits them out.
I notice her arms are more red than usual,
even some red scratch marks scabbed over.
So are you going to sing at the talent show?
I quietly ask.
Mayybeee. I want to, but I don’t think
my mom and dad will let me.
We wash our hands off in the water.
It’s going to be dark soon.
I didn’t think I would stay today.
She can’t stop scratching,
her fingers running on her arm.
Stop staring, she yells.
We finish the pumpkin,
hold it up against the light filtering through the trees.
Yay! She smiles. We set it down, and I notice a dark smudge on Blankie,
her arm bare, open, it’s bleeding where her scratching rubbed it raw.