Winter Sky (9 page)

Past the empty lots … past the old factories … until she stood in front of the movie theater. Boards covered the front door.

She went around the snowy alley to the back, the dog following. The door was boarded up, too; a Dumpster pushed against the wall. There was no way to get inside.

She twirled around. The dog was gone. Nothing but paw prints in the snow against the wall. They stopped at the Dumpster.

“Hey.” She peered into the narrow space between the Dumpster and the wall. More paw prints, but he’d disappeared.

Sideways, she edged her way behind the Dumpster, too.

Her jacket scraped against the wall. There was hardly room to move. Siria the shrimp. No one else could have done that.

Halfway along, she found another door. It was partially open, and the dog was inside. She followed him, scraping her cheek against the molding. The acrid smell of old smoke burned her throat. A dark film had inched its way up the side wall, and the hems of the velvet curtains were shredded. But the rest of the theater was untouched.

The dog ran up the three steps to the stage and the old movie screen, which was torn around the edges, and disappeared again.

How well he knew this place. She climbed the steps. He was sniffing in back of the screen, then stretched himself out, paws extended, eyes closed.

Asleep?

She crouched down next to him. And then she saw it. Such a small thing. The tip of a knife embedded in the wooden floor. It reminded her of the knife she and Laila had tried to use when they wanted to become blood sisters. Not very sharp. And beyond that was a smear of food on the screen and another scrap of green.

It looked as if the food had spurted out of a can.

She covered the knife tip with the green cloth, put it in her pocket, and left the dog to wander through the theater. Nothing else was left, not the pieces of wood or the charred paper. Everything had been cleaned. She climbed to the balcony and looked down.

Mimi would be awake by now, wondering where she was. “Come on, dog,” Siria called, and squeezed herself back outside into the daylight.

She slid into the apartment as Mimi was stretching, ready to make breakfast. They ate with the dog under the table. Siria slipped out of her boots and rubbed her feet against his soft fur. What was going to happen to him?

After breakfast, Siria felt Mimi’s warm arms around her. “I’m sorry,” Mimi said. “Your father will be home soon, and this dog has to go. I’ll get my coat. We’ll take him to the vet. Maybe he can tell us what to do.”

Siria caught her breath.

“Are you paying attention, Siria?”

“I know. I’ll walk him first.”

Mimi sighed. “Yes, I’ll just finish up the dishes.”

Siria reached for her jacket and wound a dry scarf around her neck. “Come on, dog,” she said softly.

Outside in the hall: “No pound for you,” she said. “Suppose no one wants you? You’d be better off in the basement. I’ll tell Mimi …”

What? She tried to think as they walked around the block a couple of times. Back at the apartment house, Siria brushed snow off her shoulders and the dog shook himself, sending droplets like rain over the floor.

He didn’t mind the elevator, but when the doors
opened to the basement, he sat back, front legs gripping the floor.

“You know this place,” Siria told him.

He didn’t move.

“I’ll bring you food. Lots of food. You can go out whenever you like.”

It was almost as if he understood her. He turned his head away.

Someone upstairs rang for the elevator; the doors were closing. “Please,” she said, even though she knew it was useless. And then she realized they could go upstairs to the empty apartment.

She pressed the button for five.

Inside the apartment, she stood there listening as the dog wandered from the living room toward the bedrooms. What did she hear? The click of his claws against the wood floor. But something else. Was someone whispering? She backed away toward the door, hardly making a sound.

“Who let you in?” the voice said. A boy, talking to the dog.

She had to pass the hallway.

Could he see her?

She tripped over something under her feet, and glanced down. A green jacket.

“Hey!” The voice again.

She ran. Slid out the door. Down the hall. Never mind the elevator. Grabbed the handrail and dashed up the stairs, two at a time.

And rushed inside to Mimi. Safe. Not even thinking of locking the door behind her.

“Where have you been?” Mimi asked. “And the dog?”

Siria sank down on the living room couch. “Gone.” She raised her shoulders.

“Ran away? I’m sorry about him,” Mimi said. “But maybe it’s just as well.” Then she smiled. “Izzy is on her way over with a tree. Your father will be here tomorrow.”

Siria reached out and danced Mimi around the kitchen. Pop home! Getting better! Sitting in his big chair. “Oh, Mimi. I’ll be so glad.”

In front of them, the door opened a few inches.

Mimi turned. And Siria …

 … eyes widening.

The dog!

He went past them into her bedroom, Siria thinking,
He acts as if he belongs here. If only he did
.

Then,
How did he get out of that apartment? And who was in there?

She closed the door and locked it, feeling someone’s hand pushing from the other side.

“It’s me,” Izzy called. She and Almo carried in a tree, smelling of pine and outdoors.

“Happy holidays.” Almo took a plateful of cookies they’d saved for him and left.

“We have to hurry,” Izzy said. “Ornaments. Presents
wrapped. Decorations. Everything just right!” She hugged Siria. “I told you. Home for Christmas.”

“He’s going to get a surprise.” Mimi’s eyebrows were raised.

Izzy reached for one of Mimi’s butter cookies. “Mmm. Wonderful.” She turned to Siria. “A perfect present?”

Siria took a cookie, too. “Maybe not perfect.”

“Definitely not perfect,” Mimi said. “And definitely not a present.”

Siria took Izzy into her messy room. The dog looked up at her from the bed, his great dark eyes like molasses. A patch of quilt was caught in his mouth.

Izzy sank down on the edge of the bed and gently pulled the quilt away. “He’s gorgeous. Chewing on things. He can’t be more than two or three years old.” Izzy’s face was plain, but her smile made it beautiful.

“I’m so glad you like him.”

“You can’t keep him, though. Your father …” Izzy broke off.

“Would you take him?”

Izzy put her hand on Siria’s head. “Oh, honey, I just took the cat.”

Siria went down to the storage room and brought up the boxes of ornaments: her mother’s silver Santa Claus, the drawing Siria had made in kindergarten
of Pop’s shield, glass icicles that shimmered in the light.

She hung garlands in the living room, remembering last year. Douglas had helped her, standing on a ladder. She felt a pain in her chest.
Douglas. Someone setting fires. And the dog. Oh, the dog
.

Siria glanced at Mimi, her voice thick. “This dog would make a wonderful watchdog for someone.”

Mimi held up her hands. “Not for me. And not for you. Before your father gets home, we’ll have to find a place for him.” She shook her head. “Christmas Eve. Everything’s closed.” Her voice trailed off. “We’ll just have to wait.”

Siria looked at Izzy.

“Rescued,” Izzy said, grinning. “At least for a day.”

But so much to worry about.

Siria was being smothered. She couldn’t breathe. And what was that strange noise?

She opened one eye. The dog was on top of her, the edge of her pajama sleeve in his mouth.

Siria pulled at her sleeve. “Stop,” she said softly. She threw her arms around him. “Christmas. Our last day together.” She felt a catch in her throat.

Siria sat up in bed, looking at the star book and the drawings she’d made of Canis Major. All those stars: one ear up, one ear down, a small tail. With a gold crayon she’d marked in the brightest star in the winter sky, Sirius. “I’ll call you Major,” she said to the dog. “It fits you perfectly.”

But there was no time to think about Major. No time to think about anything but Douglas and what she had to do.

Moments later, she was at his apartment door, knocking, banging. Kevin threw the door open, hair poked up, still in pajamas. “It’s seven in the morning, Siria.”

“What did Douglas do in the kitchen?” she asked.

He blinked. “Set it on fire.”

Douglas was standing behind him now. “Not the whole kitchen,” he said. “Just a pot, messed up the stove a little. And my mac ’n’ cheese is the best. Worth it.”

They were both laughing.

“You were cooking?” Siria said.

“Burning,” Kevin said.

Douglas was staring at her.

“I thought …,” she began, sounding miserable, feeling terrible.

“Don’t think,” Kevin said. “I’m going back to bed.”

“You thought I was setting fires,” Douglas said. “How could you believe that?”

She shook her head. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really so sorry.” And in her mind,
So glad it wasn’t you
.

But Douglas’s hand was on his door. Before she knew it, he’d closed it, and she was standing in the hallway alone.

They’d never be friends again. No more summers at the creek together, or hanging out on the fire escape watching the snow; no more anything.

And she still didn’t know who was setting the fires.

She went back upstairs to see that Mimi had turned on the tree lights in the living room. Everything smelled of Christmas. She stood there wiping her cheeks, while in the doorway, Major wagged his tail. Cookie crumbs dotted his muzzle. The plate of cookies in the kitchen, empty now.

“I’m going to walk the dog,” she called to Mimi in the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Mimi called.

“Sure,” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal, happy.

There was barely time to walk him, feed him, and settle him in her room before the apartment door opened and Pop called, “Siria!”

She closed her door and flew out. Izzy and Mimi were guiding Pop to the couch. He sank down, holding his side.

Siria slid in beside him. She and Pop hugged each other, rocking back and forth. “My star,” he said. “I’ve missed you so much.”

They opened presents then, red and green wrapping paper littering the floor. Siria had run across the street the night before for shaving cream and that sunny painting at Max’s for Izzy.

“Shaving cream,” Pop said. “Just what I wanted.”

Siria had to smile. There was probably tons of
shaving cream in the linen closet. She was handing Izzy the wrapped picture when she spotted Major in the doorway, tasting Pop’s crutches.

Pop smiled. “Your dog?” he asked Izzy.

Mimi hesitated. “Not really.”

Siria’s heart was fluttering in her throat. Izzy glanced at her and she looked back, pleading.

“You need a dog around here,” Izzy said slowly. “Just the way I needed the cat. It’s nice to have a pet.”

“A real pet,” Siria breathed.

Pop laughed. “That’s the last thing we need.”

Mimi stood at the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a towel. “The child needs this dog.” Her voice was firm, her eyes behind her round glasses determined.

Mimi! It was hard to believe.

Siria remembered the almost-real family she and Laila wanted. She had hoped for a dog then, one she could carry in her backpack. But Major was the one she wanted!

Mimi was still talking. “This dog has helped Siria grow up. She’s bathed him, fed him, walked him …”

Rescued him
.

Siria must have said it aloud.

Pop squeezed her shoulder. “Tell me.”

She tried to steady her mouth. “He was all alone,” she said. “It’s so hard to be alone.”

Pop took her hand. “I know.”

“He had no one to feed him, or take care of him.… ” She broke off. “Oh, Pop. I love this dog. I’ve named him Major.”

Pop was silent for a moment. “You’re named after Canis Major. Your mom loved seeing that constellation every winter. And your star is in his collar.”

“Joe, please,” Izzy said to Pop.

“She needs …,” Mimi began again.

Pop still didn’t say anything.

“Besides,” Mimi said. “I knitted him a gold collar to match Siria’s Christmas gloves. I stayed up last night to do it.”

Pop put his arms out and Siria leaned into them.

“Because I was in the hospital I couldn’t buy you something new,” he said. “But I do have a gift for you, a charm bracelet Mom wore all the time.”

Siria had seen the bracelet in a box on his dresser. She loved those charms: a flower, a firefighter’s shield, a baby …

“Suppose,” Pop said, “we go down to Anton’s Jewelry next week. We’ll buy a dog charm, since Major’s going to be yours.”

Hers!

Major seemed to know. He sank down at her feet and slept while they opened the rest of their presents.

The morning after Christmas, Siria stood at her bedroom window, holding the bracelet. It had circled Mom’s wrist long ago. Mom had touched those small charms, just as Siria did now. And next week there’d be a new charm.

She left the apartment, carrying the little round bowl with its blue-purple fighting fish looking out at the world. Down the steps, carefully, water sloshing. She pressed Laila’s bell with her elbow.

Laila opened the door, threw her arms around Siria, and pulled her inside. “Beautiful! I’ll name her …”

She stared into the bowl, her eyes large behind her glasses. “I’ll name her for you: Sister.”

They both laughed. “I think it’s a male,” Siria said.

“All right. Brother.” Laila sighed. “The dog,” she said then. “Is he yours now?”

Siria nodded. “The one that wandered around. All cleaned up now.”

Laila handed her a package. Siria could feel it was a book. “Perfect,” she said as she tore off the paper: a book that showed the constellations. “I love it.”

She leaned forward. “I found out. Douglas didn’t set those fires.”

“I’m so glad,” Laila said. “We have our brother back for our pretend family.”

If only …