“No!” I cry out. My fingernails bend backward. I can’t hold on. Diesel bolts.

He should be all right. Not a car or motorcycle has passed us all night. This isn’t even a bus route. Then, like in some kind of nightmare, a red Smart Car appears out of nowhere. Could it be the car from my hallucination? Déjà vu or déjà vécu, whatever. Is there just no way to avoid Diesel’s fate?

The car doesn’t brake or swerve off its path. It just speeds toward him.

“Stop!” I scream, holding my face in my hands. But like a car possessed, it continues relentlessly.

Then I hear the thump and Diesel’s body rolls away. I scream, but nothing comes from my lips.

“Diesel!” Morgan runs up beside me. “I saw the Smart Car! Your dream was right.” Where did she come from? I want to yell at her that this is all her fault, but she doesn’t stop; she just continues onto the road. “Poor, poor doggie,” she coos as she kneels down beside him.

“Is he …?” I say the word in my head and my lips move, but I don’t know if any sound actually comes out.

“He’s still breathing. We have to get him off the street. Help me.”

I run out beside her. My eyes blur as I watch him struggle to get up. It’s as if the back part of his body doesn’t work anymore.

Ow, ow, ow. My haunches hurt!

“Shh, boy. Easy!” Morgan keeps him down with one hand on his neck. The other pulls a towel from her bag. “Help me spread this out.”

I can’t move. My chest starts heaving, but I can’t get any air.

“Snap out of it. Diesel needs you.”

Numb, I take the ends and pull them straight.

“On three we’re going to lift together to get him on the towel. You take his shoulders. One … two … three. Gentle.”

Diesel looks me in the eyes. Don’t tell Alpha Female!

Don’t tell Mom? “I failed you. I’m sorry.”

“Nobody’s failing anyone.” Morgan’s arm suddenly lifts up like a train crossing signal, her hand pointing. “Look over there! There’s that cop car again. I’m going to flag him down.” Morgan runs toward it, waving and yelling.

My heart stops beating. Is she crazy? What if the police officer can’t see her and doesn’t stop in time? Everything can turn so much worse. The car swivels. The brakes squeal. The door flings open.

My heart flip-flops into life again.

“Officer Forsyth, can you help my friend’s dog? He’s been hit by a car.” Blah, blah, blah, more talking I can’t listen to or process. I feel like I’m dying inside my dog. The officer steps out and opens the back door. Then he walks over and slips his arms beneath the towel. Diesel’s head and legs flop over, his eyes still locked on to mine.

The floppiness scares me. “Please, please, be all right,” I beg him.

I am so tired.