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Back Stay
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. Acknowledgments
  62. About the Author
  63. Books by Bobbie Pyron
  64. Back Ads
  65. About the Publisher

“Baby’s all I have. He’s my family.”

Baby feels that dark thing settle on Jewel’s heart.

Baby whimpers, licks her chin.

He cannot let her go to that dark place.

He must keep her from that dark place.

He nips the bottom of her ear like he used to when

he was just a pup and she’d laugh and say,

“Oh, Baby, you are such a little pistol,” and then

everything

would be fine.

Instead,

Jewel bows her head against the cold, stinging rain

that has just begun,

against the faces turned away from them as they walk

past,

all except one face,

the face of the girl.

14

Stormy Waters

I wish I could say I was so angry, so sad that that woman and Baby got turned away again in the cold and freezing rain, that I couldn’t eat a bite of supper. But I did. Before I even knew it, I’d eaten every speck of spaghetti off my plate. The garlic bread was delectable. See, Mrs. Monroe? I’m still keeping up with my vocabulary, even though I haven’t been to school in months. I can’t believe how much I miss school, especially learning new words. Mrs. Monroe always told us that words have power, something most kids don’t have much of. I want to learn as many words as I can.

Now I’m lying (or is it laying?) here on my skinny cot half listening to Mama read Where the Wild Things Are to Dylan. That was the book in his special bag Miss Becky gave him when we first got here. I don’t know how Mama’s managed it, but she’s stretched out next to him reading all about Max and his adventures. Dylan listens with his eyes half closed, his thumb in his mouth, something he’s been doing lately.

“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another . . .”

Pellets of ice tick against the high window. I think again about that woman saying she’d have to give up her little dog if she came to a shelter. Where are they now? How are they keeping warm? Does anybody care?

We may not have much in this tiny room with two cots and one small window on the world. And, of course, Daddy’s not with us. But at least we’re warm and dry and safe.

And together. Kind of.

That’s all the woman wants too.

Mama’s voice stops. I look over. Both she and Dylan are fast asleep, the book resting on Mama’s chest.