What can I do to help him look better in her eyes?

“Hey, Dad. Can you give Mom a lift to work today? She’s running behind on account of me knocking my head.”

“You hurt your head, Naomi?” Dad looks closer at me. “How?”

“Playing in the hot sun too long with that dog,” Mom grumbles.

As if my heatstroke is Dad’s fault because he gave me Diesel. As if Diesel’s running into the street was his fault. His fault, his fault. Same argument, only shifted slightly.

Diesel whimpers.

I am a good dog. I can save the whole pack.

“Passed out and gave herself a bump on the head,” Mom continues her grumble.

“You sure you’re not concussed?” Dad asks. “Should I run you over to the hospital?”

“Rawf!” Diesel barks.

“Shush. No one’s asking you,” Mom tells him.

I shrug, not sure at all. There seems to be a whole other movie track running in my head. And a dog talking. Does that go along with being concussed? If Dad takes me to emergency, will the hospital release me again? Not if I tell them about the dog voice.

Maybe they’ll drug me so I won’t hear Diesel anymore. But I like talking with my dog.

“I’m fine,” I say and change the subject. “If you drive Mom, she can save her bus fare.” A penny saved is a penny earned, Mom told Dad when she refused to get internet. Well, three dollars saved must be three dollars earned, then.

“I’d be happy to drive you. Heck, if there was a bus route to my job at Western Tire, I’d give you the car.”

“Whoa! Did you hear that, Mom?”

Mom scorches him with a look, and really, I don’t believe him, either. He could never give up the blue machine.

She speaks to him in a forced normal tone. “I would appreciate a ride. So I can get to Donut Time on time.”

Dad points to her and chuckles. “Well, we’ll get you there ahead of Donut Time!”

Circle sweets with holes, so delicious. Diesel knows Mom brings day-olds home all the time. My kibble is dry and tasteless.

“Hey, Dad, Mom can probably score you a free coffee and donut. Right, Mom?” She needs to smile. Everyone loves when Mom smiles. Will those lips lift?

“I could use my employee discount.” She raises an eyebrow at me, touches my head. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

The front door opens. Diesel barks.

Mom turns toward the hallway. “That will be Cathie and Luanne.”

She frowns as she studies my face.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling a lot better.” It’s true — no rocks in my head, no drumming.

Baby Cheerios! Diesel’s tail thumps.

Just confusion.

When Aunt Cathie walks in, I open my arms to Luanne. “I’m so glad to see you, baby,” I say as she snuggles into them, clutching her old worn-out stuffed monkey.

“My, my, I’m lucky Luanne gets such loving care,” Aunt Cathie says. “Makes my life so much easier, Naomi, knowing you’re looking after her.”