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PART XVI: I'm Lily Madwhip and I'm Being Followed By a Big, Black Dog

Lilian Madwhip

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ART XVI: I'm Being Followed By a Big, Black Dog

I'm Lily Madwhip and I'm Being Followed By a Big, Black Dog

"Hey, do you know whose dog that is?" I ask Jamal. We're sitting on the bus and I'm looking out the window at the big, black dog that has been following me since I left the house ten minutes ago. It's long and thin, with short fur and a pointy nose. Judging from how it looks I bet it's hungry. I spotted it first parked on its butt in the Tennison's front yard staring at me and I thought it was doing its doggy business. I'm not a fan of watching animals do their business, so I looked away, but as I rounded the corner onto Smiley Ave, I looked back and it was still there, just watching me walk away.

"What dog?" Jamal asks.

"The big, black dog." It's peeking out from behind the old, dead tree by Mr. Lawrence's house. Lightning struck the tree four years ago and split it down the middle. Mr. Lawrence had the two halves propped up and tried to hold them together by nailing boards up it like stitches. I think he thought since the boards were made of wood and the tree was made of wood, it would reabsorb the boards or something. It didn't. Half the tree was dead and it's all rotten and dried up now. The other half is fine though, so it looks like a weird tree with boards leading up to the branches, half of which have no leaves. Like a ladder to the lamest treehouse.

"What big, black dog?" Jamal looks out the window with curiosity, but he seems to look everywhere but where the dog is.

I point at the dog peeking out from behind the weird tree. "The big, black dog peeking out from behind Mr. Lawrence's weird tree."

Jamal keeps looking in the wrong places. He pauses. "Wait, who's Mr. Lawrence?"

I give up. "Alright, well this has been fun, thanks."

The bus drives off and the dog watches us go. I watch the dog watch us go. It's a watching party.

Sixth grade has been hard to deal with. Particularly the "no toys allowed" rule, which means I have to leave Paschar at home every day. I can't even try to smuggle him into school in my backpack. I still see things before they happen from time to time, but without Paschar, I don't always know what's going on. I have to be on my guard all day until I get home. It's nerve wracking.

"You seem tense," Simone tells me. Simone is one of my best friends. She's got orange hair but people call it red or ginger. I don't know why they don't just call it orange. I guess that sounds too much like the color a clown's hair would be or something. We sit in the back of the class during social studies because Mr. Hasan doesn't assign seating like the other teachers do. I like Mr. Hasan. He always wears a bow tie. Most days it's red, but some days he likes to throw everybody for a loop and wear a black one. Once he wore a green one and I swear Hayden Brickowski nearly had an aneurysm.

"I saw a dog at the bus stop."

"Do you not like dogs?"

"I don't think anybody else could see this one." At least, Jamal couldn't. Then again, maybe he was looking from the wrong angle. Of course, this all wouldn't bother me if it didn't mean something. I've learned to trust my instincts when they tell me something's not right.