and covers her face with kisses because

he is so, so happy to smell her and

because he can feel

the worry in her heart.

His Jewel had that worry in her heart too

and it was Baby’s most important job

to take that worry away.

Baby leaps from the girl’s lap and

twirls on his back legs.

Just like Jewel, the girl laughs

and claps her hands and

just like that

the dark smell of worry

is gone.

A woman

not much taller than the girl

with a similar scent

says, shall we go out into the sun?

Baby sees she holds two leashes in her hand.

The woman hands one leash to the girl.

The woman’s hand smells like love and

peanut butter.

Baby watches with boundless curiosity

and hope

as the woman opens the door to

the kennel next door and clips a leash on the old dog

whose eyes are filled with small bits of hope.

Together

they leave the inside

for the outside

Girl

Baby

Woman

Dog Next Door

and turn their faces up

to the bright sun.

55

Apprehension

Every day, money is trickling in. Daddy’s brought home money from work the last two days, and every night Rick gives me money collected at the Sixth Street Community Kitchen.

And when we come back from supper, Ree and Ajax are always waiting on the corner with more she’s collected from her family of sign flyers—that’s what Daddy calls them. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at them the same,” he says. I won’t either.

But there’s no two ways around it: time’s getting short. Very short.

When I got home from school yesterday, Byron had a package for me: Baby’s emotional support vest. Byron ordered it on his credit card since we don’t have one.

I opened up the box and held the vest up for Byron to see.

“It looks very official,” Byron said, admiring the red and black colors, and fingering the buckles. “Well made too. He’ll be able to wear this for a long time.”

“I hope so,” I said. Time’s not just running out for Jewel, it’s running out for Baby too. Tamara at the Humane Society said more and more people have filled out applications to adopt Baby. “He won’t have any trouble finding a great home if things don’t work out,” she said.

“But you said you’d keep him until Jewel gets out of the hospital.”

“We can keep him a few days longer,” Tamara had said, “but that’s it. There are other dogs needing his kennel space, Piper.”

I feel sick remembering all this as I climb onto the school bus.

“Hey, Piper!” Jerome waves from the back, where he sits with Noah. They’re both grinning.

“What’s up?” I ask, plopping down on the seat in front of them.