Read Online Nobody's Dog by Ria Voros - Free Book Online Page A

night he was in the yard? I was sure he got out before she saw him, but maybe …
    She’s concentrating so hard, she doesn’t even notice me. Her hair has fallen in front of her face. I have no idea how she can even see what she’s doing. I put her glass on the table and lie down beside my book. Even with my eyes closed I see the drawing of Chilko, the rope she held up after he escaped.
    Someone clears their throat. Libby’s looking down at me. Up close I can see freckles on her nose. Her eyes are pale blue. She stares at me, waiting.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI asked if you wanted to see your portrait.”
    â€œIt’s done?”
    â€œIt’s just a sketch. I wanted to capture you quickly.”
    The way she says
capture
makes me squirm. No wonder she has no friends.
    When I don’t reply, she holds the paper over my face.
    I take it and sit up. Before I can say anything, she’s sitting cross-legged beside me.
    â€œIt’s the way I saw you the other night when you were out here.”
    It’s a figure, blurred around the edges, with an oversized head and huge eyes. But they are my eyes. The face lookssurprised, like it’s been caught doing something. Behind it to the right is a street lamp, a stream of light coming down to the ground. On the other side of me is a coil of rope. If I was a stranger looking at this, I might think the figure was going to hang himself or something. Is that what she thinks? I’m glad there’s no dog in the picture but I can’t help feeling she knows too much. Maybe not from seeing Chilko that night, but it seems too much to be a coincidence. I don’t want to see the next thing she draws.
    â€œWhat do you think?”
    â€œIt’s original. Different,” I say. I’m surprised my voice works.
    â€œCarmen Rosemont says most people don’t understand true art. She doesn’t show her work to any friends or family — just has it in galleries and strangers and critics love it.” She shrugs. “I don’t care if you don’t like it. That’s not the point.”
    â€œWhat is the point?” I don’t say that I’m not a friend or family member and I don’t ask who Carmen Rosemont is.
    She gets up, sweeps the paper from my hand. “The point is to tell a story. Even one that lasts a second. That’s the story of you the other night.”
    I can’t argue with that. In fact, I can’t really say anything. So I just stare into the sky until my eyes water from the brightness and I have to close them.
    A while later, from across the yard, she says, “I’m going inside now. You don’t have to babysit me, Jakob. I’ll tell Mom we got along great.”
    I want to apologize for something but I don’t know what. Instead I say, “Fine.”
    She walks across the grass with her paper and pencil box, pauses at the door. “But I do wish we got along great, you know.”
    She turns inside, leaving me feeling like a loser, wanting to ask her for the drawing just so I can pretend I like it when it really weirds me out and I don’t want to look at it ever again. I realize why: it’s too true. The eyes, the rope. It was full of guilt, being caught in the act. It
was
the story of that second, whether she knew what happened or not.

Chapter 6
    Midnight. Chilko and I meet silently out front, a well-practiced team, and cruise down the street like ghosts. J’s ready to run and he’s sure it’s going to be a good night. I printed out a map and traced where I think we’ve been already. Cygnet Street seemed even more important when I saw it on paper, but beyond that nothing stood out. I need to walk the neighbourhoods. I feel so much closer to knowing with a map and my backpack filled with water, food, a flashlight, and Chilko beside me. He glances at me with those dark orange eyes. I could hug him, but I know that’s not his style.
    The