Something I Don't Know

5: asphalt is not an appetizing ice cream flavor

By no means have I adopted Jamie, but at this point, everyone pretty much acts like I have.

Apparently, I'm responsible for him now. I have to take care of him. I have to ease up on some of my rules and stop treating him so much like he's a child. This is Midge, if you haven't guessed. All of this advice has come from Midge.

See, it would be so easy not to treat Jamie like a kid if he wasn't one. Next March (or the end of next February; he's got one of those weird leap year birthdays) he'll be sixteen, which is technically past kid status, I realize, but if you know Jamie, you know he's not at all like the average sixteen-year-old.

He doesn't listen to me. He sleeps till noon, usually. All he does is eat all the time. He's absolutely fascinated by the television, and when I try to hand a book to him, he looks at me like I've lost my mind.

Actually—

Maybe he acts more his age than I thought.

My apartment (you know, the one that dragon blew apart) didn't have any outdoor space, let alone an entire yard. The loft, however, has a little green space out back, extending from the tiny back porch. I don't use it for much else other than the occasional space to vomit, but Jamie seems to find it convenient. More than once have I walked by the French doors to see him—rather, a blur of white fur—running around in circles, chasing his tail.

It's what I find him doing when I walk past those French doors today. Honestly, it's a little sad to watch, but it's not like I'm gonna get down on all fours and join him.

I exhale and shoulder open the door, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the sun. I see Jamie's ears prick before he lifts his head and notices me, sending a playful bark in my direction.

I hate it, but I know exactly what he's saying. "Uh, no. The frisbee's in the garage and I'm not walking that far."

He whimpers, his ears flattening against his head, but a second later, he's already forgotten about that stupid frisbee. Not that he can do much with it, anyway; last time I pulled that frisbee out, Jamie bit a huge chunk out of it.

Jamie's resorted to rolling around in the grass, staining his white fur green, which means I'll have to wash that out of his hair later. It's a confusing concept, the whole hair-fur transfer thing, but it's not nearly as confusing as it is incredibly annoying.

I need to get out of this house.

Well, I am out of this house.

I need to get further away from this house.

I sigh, inhaling the scents of wood and pine, mostly covered up by the asphalt and smoke smells of the city. Jamie's gone back to trying to catch his tail. He's never succeeded, far as I know. I can't take another second of this.

I call Midge.

She says, "Hey, Grey. I'm a little bit busy. My mom just got a customer."

"Oh?"

I don't hang up, which is what I know she wanted me to do. I grin when she lets out an aggravated breath. "It's really complicated, okay? This guy accidentally turned his girlfriend into like, a sea monster thing, and he's paying my mom to help change her back."

"That sounds...intriguing. How does one accidentally turn their girlfriend into a sea monster thing?" I say. "And can I try?"

"Grey, if you're trying, then it's not accidental—oh...oh, you wouldn't."