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Authors: Gary Paulsen
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for more treatments. I just wanted you to know.”
Jo matched the words in her mind to the pace oftheir footsteps, slow and halting. No … she’s a friend … to the dogs … and so my friend too. My first friend … my only friend … she can’t … no … this was a good day … the best day … my only right and perfect day ever, and now …
She remembered then how carefully Mike and Carter and Betty studied Rose and how she had seen but not seen Rose’s dry lips and bony hands and pale skin and skinny shoulder blades poking through her sweatshirt, and the dark smudges underneath her eyes. She remembered how gently they leaned when they rested against Rose and how sad their eyes were when they watched her.
“I already knew,” she said.
“You did?”
“My dogs knew the first day. They’ve been trying to tell me. I didn’t understand, though. I didn’t want to.”
Rose stopped walking. “How could they know?”
“They understand things people can’t, because they see you. And they saw something they didn’t like.”
“I’m going to be fine, though.” Rose lifted her chin and made her voice hard. “That’s what everyone says. There’s nothing to worry about, and in a few months this will all be behind me, and I just have to keep my spirits up until then.”
Carter looked back at Rose. Mike sighed and sat on the path. Betty sneezed and shook her head once, hard.
Jo could tell that Rose was lying, just like the dogscould. The only thing she didn’t know was whether Rose knew she wasn’t telling the truth.
There was nothing to say and so Jo was quiet as they stood together in the twilight. Once again, Jo wanted to touch Rose, the way she touched Mike when he trembled during a thunderstorm. But she’d never reached out to any person before. It took her three tries, lifting her hand and pulling it back, before she finally slipped her hand into Rose’s.
Rose squeezed back. And held on tight.
R ose didn’t come to the woods the next day. Or the next or the next or the next. Jo stopped counting the nexts, but the dogs lifted their noses to the sky, trying to catch Rose’s scent, every time they went into the woods.
Jo moved through those endless days the way she had lived before the dogs came, frozen, stiff and hollow. The dogs snapped at each other with sharp growls and quickly bared teeth. They didn’t run ahead of her the way they usually did as they moved through the trees, but they walked on either side and just in front, almost touching her.
Jo wondered if she’d imagined Rose. Had she made up someone to talk to, conjured someone who tried to see the dogs the same way she did? Invented a friend?But then she saw Mike nosing around the stump where Rose had sat that second day. Carter dug at the spot where they’d all sat together the first day. Betty kept running back to the place where they’d eaten sandwiches together. And Jo knew.
Rose had been real.
Jo walked slowly,
Rose
,
Rose
,
Rose
thumping through her mind with each step. The dogs quickened their pace, though, and she had to trot to keep up with them.
They led her deep into the woods and then stopped next to the small stream. They sat in a line and watched the slow current tumble and roll the shallow waters. Jo didn’t sit next to them as she normally would, but instead paced along the water’s edge.
Rose. Rose. Rose.
No. No. No.
She felt like hitting something, like breaking something. She shuddered, thinking how like the Biologicals that idea was. She looked to the dogs. For once they weren’t watching her every move. All three dogs had their eyes fixed on the flat, broad rock that loomed above the waterline in the center of the creek, listening to the water splash on the sides.
The boulder was beautiful—gray speckles and green flecks and streaks of icy white quartz. The rock glistened where the water hit the sides and made it wet.
Jo thought it might be magic, something she could touch and
Jo matched the words in her mind to the pace oftheir footsteps, slow and halting. No … she’s a friend … to the dogs … and so my friend too. My first friend … my only friend … she can’t … no … this was a good day … the best day … my only right and perfect day ever, and now …
She remembered then how carefully Mike and Carter and Betty studied Rose and how she had seen but not seen Rose’s dry lips and bony hands and pale skin and skinny shoulder blades poking through her sweatshirt, and the dark smudges underneath her eyes. She remembered how gently they leaned when they rested against Rose and how sad their eyes were when they watched her.
“I already knew,” she said.
“You did?”
“My dogs knew the first day. They’ve been trying to tell me. I didn’t understand, though. I didn’t want to.”
Rose stopped walking. “How could they know?”
“They understand things people can’t, because they see you. And they saw something they didn’t like.”
“I’m going to be fine, though.” Rose lifted her chin and made her voice hard. “That’s what everyone says. There’s nothing to worry about, and in a few months this will all be behind me, and I just have to keep my spirits up until then.”
Carter looked back at Rose. Mike sighed and sat on the path. Betty sneezed and shook her head once, hard.
Jo could tell that Rose was lying, just like the dogscould. The only thing she didn’t know was whether Rose knew she wasn’t telling the truth.
There was nothing to say and so Jo was quiet as they stood together in the twilight. Once again, Jo wanted to touch Rose, the way she touched Mike when he trembled during a thunderstorm. But she’d never reached out to any person before. It took her three tries, lifting her hand and pulling it back, before she finally slipped her hand into Rose’s.
Rose squeezed back. And held on tight.
R ose didn’t come to the woods the next day. Or the next or the next or the next. Jo stopped counting the nexts, but the dogs lifted their noses to the sky, trying to catch Rose’s scent, every time they went into the woods.
Jo moved through those endless days the way she had lived before the dogs came, frozen, stiff and hollow. The dogs snapped at each other with sharp growls and quickly bared teeth. They didn’t run ahead of her the way they usually did as they moved through the trees, but they walked on either side and just in front, almost touching her.
Jo wondered if she’d imagined Rose. Had she made up someone to talk to, conjured someone who tried to see the dogs the same way she did? Invented a friend?But then she saw Mike nosing around the stump where Rose had sat that second day. Carter dug at the spot where they’d all sat together the first day. Betty kept running back to the place where they’d eaten sandwiches together. And Jo knew.
Rose had been real.
Jo walked slowly,
Rose
,
Rose
,
Rose
thumping through her mind with each step. The dogs quickened their pace, though, and she had to trot to keep up with them.
They led her deep into the woods and then stopped next to the small stream. They sat in a line and watched the slow current tumble and roll the shallow waters. Jo didn’t sit next to them as she normally would, but instead paced along the water’s edge.
Rose. Rose. Rose.
No. No. No.
She felt like hitting something, like breaking something. She shuddered, thinking how like the Biologicals that idea was. She looked to the dogs. For once they weren’t watching her every move. All three dogs had their eyes fixed on the flat, broad rock that loomed above the waterline in the center of the creek, listening to the water splash on the sides.
The boulder was beautiful—gray speckles and green flecks and streaks of icy white quartz. The rock glistened where the water hit the sides and made it wet.
Jo thought it might be magic, something she could touch and
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