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Authors: Rachel Neumeier

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BOOK: Black Dog Short Stories
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     The thought of going out on a lake, just herself with Ezekiel, alone in a little boat, with the sun finally warm and the air soft instead of bitter—Natividad thought that sounded like a really promising idea. Maybe. If Ezekiel was so determined to claim her, if she had only a few months to decide if she would agree, then she needed to figure out whether he really liked
her
, or just liked the idea of a girl who was Pure. Maybe she
would
ask him to go boating with her. Maybe she would find out he would rather go on missions for Grayson and kill strays. It was hard to guess.

     She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about how little she still knew Ezekiel, even after these weeks in Dimilioc. She looked around at Burlington instead, all the long streets that stretched out as far as she could see, paved with red bricks to show where people were supposed to walk and cars were not supposed to drive. That was where lots of the shops were. She looked west to see if Lake Champlain was visible, but couldn’t even catch a glimpse of water. Maybe Keziah wouldn’t mind walking to the lake later, after they looked at the shops. Jewelry places, like she wanted to see. Probably there were shops that sold jewelry here.

 

     There were indeed jewelry shops. Also shops for books and candles and pretty wooden picture frames. One place sold paper things, cards and books with blank pages, which Natividad had never seen before. Keziah said those were for photos and papers you wanted to keep to remind you of the past, and Natividad really wanted one with all kinds of flowers embossed on its leather cover, gold and brown and very pretty. But she had no papers or pictures to help her remember her past. She didn’t want to think about that, about how few pieces of the past she could still touch and lift in her hands. How much she had lost entirely.

     They went on to other places that sold fancy chairs and tables and big ornate cabinets for outrageous prices, or toys for children—that one was fun, and Natividad wanted to linger, but Keziah looked bored. There was a shop that sold many kinds of fancy chocolates, with little squiggles on the top so you could tell which kind was which. Keziah bought a dozen tiny little chocolates, and made Natividad buy a dozen for herself, and they walked down the street eating them. Natividad exclaimed at the flavors, which she mostly didn’t recognize, and Keziah laughed at her, but not in an unfriendly way.

     After that there was another shop that sold things for pets, including sweaters for dogs. Natividad had never imagined putting a
sweater
on a
dog
, but she actually saw two people with little dogs dressed in sweaters. Imagine, a country so cold even the
dogs
needed sweaters! She craned her neck, trying not to be obvious as she stared. The dogs were cute, though. So small she could have held either one cupped in her hands. No wonder they needed sweaters.

     In the middle of the whole big shopping area stood a beautiful enormous Christmas tree, and beyond that were more shops, and a fountain to mark the boundary between the shopping area and the ordinary street, though the fountain was turned off because of the cold and Natividad did not even know what it was until Keziah told her.

     Keziah found a moonstone bracelet at one place, but the bracelet had a silver chain, so she couldn’t try it on. She asked for platinum, but they didn’t have one like that. Keziah frowned so fiercely at the girl in the shop that the girl actually took a step backward, so Natividad touched the back of Keziah’s hand and wished she would be calm. She whispered that if she wanted the bracelet, Natividad could blood the silver for her. Then she hesitated because on second thought, if Keziah wore a silver bracelet, blooded or not, it would make every other black dog in Dimilioc uncomfortable. On third thought, though, Keziah might like that idea.

     Keziah transferred her frown to Natividad, who couldn’t quite figure out what was in the older girl’s mind. It would have been much easier to go shopping with Alejandro, really.

     The girl in the shop said maybe they could make a bracelet to order. So Keziah said that she would think about it, in an abrupt tone that meant she was still angry and stalked out of the shop, with Natividad hurrying to keep up.

     After that Natividad thought maybe she had better pick the shops for a while. So she insisted on visiting a place that sold old books, but though she bought Miguel a book about European history and also a book about Japanese art, she couldn’t find anything she was sure her twin would really think was special. Nor anything at all for Alejandro.

     “But maybe Amira would like a book of fairy tales?” she suggested. “This one is pretty. Look at the pictures. I like this one with all the
cisnes
.  I don’t know the word in English . . .”

     Keziah said scornfully, refusing to look, “A book?  Black dog children do not like books.”

     Natividad nodded, not arguing. “I know, but sometimes Alejandro used to like to listen to Mamá read stories.”

     But it was a mistake to say this because even after so long it was painful to think about Mamá, about the evenings when their whole family had gathered to listen to her read aloud. Keziah looked like she might be remembering painful things, too. Natividad quickly led the way out of the shop.

     She found a place that sold the most amazing kinds of soap. She lingered over a kind that was supposed to smell of chocolate, and it really did, too. She loved it, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to use soap that smelled of chocolate. She bought a nice smooth bar of soap that smelled of roses instead.

     After that there was a place that sold the most amazing, complicated puzzles, made of all these cut-out pieces of stiff paper that you put together to make a picture or build a castle. She lingered over one on display, already put together to make a great cathedral. Maybe Miguel would like this kind of puzzle? She longed to get him one, but was not sure. Her twin was obviously
aburrió
these days; he was restless, he didn’t have anything to
do
now that they had joined Dimilioc, when before he had spent a lot of time helping Papá keep track of what was going on with the war. It was hard for him now. Maybe a puzzle would make him happier.

     “A tedious exercise in pointlessness,” Keziah said dismissively. “When you finish, what do you have? A paper artwork that would be far more beautiful if it had never been cut to pieces in the first place.”  She insisted on moving on to a shop that sold clothing. She made Natividad wait while she tried on a loose-knit sweater, and a blouse with swirls of glitter on it, and a skirt cut on a sharp diagonal. That shop was more crowded, and many of the people seemed impatient. When Keziah reached for another skirt, the last one on the rack, a young woman older than she was tried to bump her out of the way and get it first. Keziah didn’t give way, of course. Not only did she not move, she caught the other woman’s wrist and forced her back a step. From the woman’s expression, which changed from outraged to shocked, Keziah’s grip was probably just short of crushing.

     “Careful!” Natividad said, and amended that quickly to, “You don’t want to drop that skirt!” so it wouldn’t seem like she was trying to give Keziah orders.

     Keziah’s gave Natividad a look and deliberately opened her hand, letting the skirt crumple to the floor. Then she stepped on it. The young woman gasped, maybe in surprise and maybe just in pain from her wrist. She looked like she was about to make up her mind to scream or shout or something, any minute.

     Natividad said hastily, “Let’s go somewhere else, okay? I’m hungry, aren’t you?”

     So Keziah let the woman go, fortunately without dropping
her
on the floor and stepping on her, and strolled out like she’d meant to leave right then anyway. Then they walked a few blocks west because Natividad wanted to see the lake. They ate Thai food at a place overlooking the lake.

     Natividad had never eaten Thai food before. Keziah ordered quickly for them both, coconut shrimp, and a noodle dish called pad thai, and a chicken curry. The shrimp were wonderful, and the noodles were made of rice which gave them a very different texture from the spaghetti they sometimes had at Dimilioc with tomato sauce, and there was coconut milk in the curry, along with things like lemongrass that Natividad had never heard of.  She discovered all this by asking the waitress many questions. The waitress was very nice. Her name was Joan and she was going to school at the University of Vermont and studying horticulture, and she had three younger siblings, and her mother loved complicated jigsaw puzzles—but Keziah made Natividad leave before she found out if the waitress’s mother liked the kind of puzzle that made a sculpture of a cathedral.

     So then they walked back to the shopping area. Keziah said she had decided to get the moonstone bracelet after all. She told Natividad, as though this was a brand-new idea and also as though she was doing her a favor, that Natividad could blood the silver for her so she could wear it. So they went back toward the end of the pedestrian walking area, which was where the jewelry shop was, and got the bracelet, and then came out again, and that was when a big green car jumped over the curb and rushed across the red brick pavers right at them. Keziah caught Natividad around the waist and leaped out of the car’s path so that instead of hitting them, the car ran straight across the street and smashed into a shop on the other side with a great shattering crash of broken glass and wood and a high-pitched squeal of tearing metal. Someone started screaming, and someone else said, “Oh my God—oh my God—” over and over, and a somewhere a child was crying, great gasping wails that sounded frightened rather than hurt.

     Natividad stared at the accident in shock. It was the shop that sold chocolates. The fragrance of chocolate rolled out into the cold air, mingling with the sudden acrid smell of burning plastic and something else underneath that, something even less pleasant, sharp and chemical.

     By this time, Keziah had shoved Natividad back into the doorway of the nearest shop and stepped in front of her, which was fine, she was supposed to protect Natividad after all, but it was also infuriating because Natividad couldn’t
see
. She stood on her toes, which didn’t help because Keziah was too much taller than she was, so then she ducked and tried to squeeze around Keziah, back onto the sidewalk. But Keziah wouldn’t let her. She said furiously, “Stupid girl! Stay back! Did you not see that car was aimed straight at you?”

     “Aimed!” said Natividad.

     “There was no driver!” said Keziah. “Someone pointed it at you and jammed the accelerator down.”  She was not shouting now. She still sounded furious, though. She was scanning the street, both ways but mostly the way the car had come. Natividad could hardly believe Keziah could be right, but she stayed behind the black dog girl anyway. She ducked down so she could see past her, though.

     The child was still wailing, but the screaming had stopped. Someone, a man, was giving urgent orders to
Move that damn car
and
Get that table up off there
, but as far as Natividad could see, though lots of people were edging close to the disaster, no one was listening. Fire was crawling over the rear of the car and up the shattered remnants of the front of the shop. She could see everyone was afraid of the fire. That made sense:  didn’t cars explode when they caught on fire?

     But Natividad could see a little now, though Keziah still blocked most of her view. She could see that a man, a big man with a beard and a leather jacket, didn’t seem afraid that the car might explode. Or maybe he was just desperate—he was shouting—now he was pulling on the car all by himself, trying to lift it, ignoring the fire. Of course he couldn’t move it, an ordinary human man like that. Natividad didn’t understand why he was trying. A woman was holding back a little girl who was trying to go help him, or maybe trying to pull him away –

     Then she understood. She  said urgently, “Keziah! There’s someone trapped under that car! Or pinned in front of it, or something!”

     “Yes,” said Keziah. She didn’t look at Natividad. She was staring at the accident, then around at the street, then back at the accident. “A girl. She was sitting there. She was twelve, perhaps.”  She went on after a second, “She looked nothing like Amira.”

     “Well, she’s
somebody’s
sister!” Natividad said.

     “Yes,” said Keziah again. But she added, “I am supposed to protect
you
.”

     “I don’t care!” Natividad said energetically. “I think it
was
an accident! No stray would use a
car
to attack me, you know that. If a stray was out there, he’d already have attacked! In two seconds I’m going to go help that man move that car, and you can come protect me if you want me to stay safe!”

     Keziah made a sharp, angry gesture with both hands. “This is impossible! This is all impossible!”

     “It was an accident,” Natividad insisted. “Or some random thing, not aimed at me especially, we just got in the way! Keziah, that car is going to explode! Think of that girl—Amira’s age, you said! It wouldn’t take you a second to move that car!”

     “Grayson would be very angry if you were injured.”  But Keziah clearly wanted to go help the girl—that surprised Natividad, but she wasn’t going to question it.

BOOK: Black Dog Short Stories
6.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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