The Crescent, Page 3

my sandwich in peace to the melodic beats of Blink 182 numbing my mind. I needed to download one of their other albums because this one was starting to wear thin. The lights in the kitchen finally went out and my parents retreated to their bedroom. The house seemed like such a shell from the playhouse. When I was little I used to think my parents’ lives were perfect. They would throw huge barbecues and invite all of the neighbors, but it’s been years since the last one.

  I gathered my items back into my bag to head into the house, hoping it was safe to go inside now. I tripped over the threshold exiting the dollhouse, tossing everything in my bag all over the ground. If I knew it wouldn’t be ruined by the morning, I’d leave everything scattered on the ground. Cursing at myself I shoved each piece back into the bag, not being too careful or really paying attention to how most of my magazines were now crumpled. Familiar chills raced down the length of my spine as my body went rigid. My heart started to race and I felt claustrophobic as hot breath swirled against my neck.

  Ting Ting Ting. Clanking vibrated in my ear. Taking the last breath of my short life, I waited for whatever was going to happen next.

  But then, I felt a very soft, warm, wet …

  Nose? Wait, no, fur?

  My eyes shot open and I jerked my head in the direction of the breath. The largest black dog I had ever seen loomed over me with the dopiest look on his face. It looked like a wolf, but it had a dog collar with a set of tags. Grant was the only thing inscribed on the tag dangling close to my nose.

  “You’re a fucking bitch.” My father’s voice boomed from the house as their shadows crossed their bedroom window. Grant whimpered and lay on the grass next to me. The dog easily outweighed me and if we were both standing I’m sure he would be taller than me too. His large brown eyes never left my face as he put his furry head into my lap.

  The argument upstairs started to escalate again and my heart sank further in my chest. Dad’s heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and glass shattered in the house. Grant’s ears pushed back on his massive head as he glared at the house, his eyes forming amazing golden brown crescents. Then it dawned on me: Grant was in the bush last night. I rubbed my hand timidly across his mane trying to quiet the dog until my father went back upstairs; low growls vibrated his neck and head against my legs.

  “Shhhh …” I whispered. “It’s ok.” I rubbed the length of the dog’s fur until he laid his head back in my lap. “They’ll be done soon.” The dog slightly whimpered again and closed his eyes.

  Grant’s even breathing and warmth against my side made me want to take him into the house and let him sleep on the bed like Tippy used to, but I knew that was out of the question, at least for tonight.

  I waited until my parents’ bedroom light went off to sneak into the kitchen. I grabbed several blankets and reheated some steak for him. I would make the playhouse a makeshift doghouse until I could find his owner.

  “Ok boy, here you go.” I removed the small chairs and made a pallet on the floor for the dog. I was amazed he had a hard time getting through the door of the dollhouse. He walked around in a circle a few times, whacking me in the face with his big furry tail. When Grant finally decided to lie down he put his head on my lap.

  “I can’t stay here buddy. I have to go inside. You’ll be safe here tonight.” Grant’s expressive eyes looked at me and he started to shift his body until his head completely pressed against my stomach, holding me to the side of the dollhouse. I ran my fingers through his silky hair several times until I swear I heard the dog snoring. His rhythmic breathing had me relaxed and asleep in no time.

  c h a p t e r

  THREE

  Grant nosed and licked my arm. Another moment and my father stood in the doorway of the playhouse. “What the …” His eyes widened at the sight of the dog.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Grant never moved his head from my lap, but a deep seeded growl rumbled up through his body and throat. I moved my hand gently across his nose and up between his eyes, not sure if I was trying to calm his nerves or my own.

  “I found him out here last night. He has tags; I’m going to find his owner today.” I continued to pet his soft fur. I’m not sure I would’ve stood up to my dad about having the dog here, if the dog weren’t so … imposing.

  “You know the rules.” Dad looked at the dog and at me, disapproving.

  “I know, Dad. What do you expect me to do? Let him just stay out here in the cold?”

  “Lacey, you don’t know if that dog has any diseases. It could seriously hurt you. How can you be so trusting?”

  “How can you be so cynical?” I looked down at Grant. “He’s just a helpless animal, Dad. He was scared and lonely. I just want to help him get back home. For all you know, he belongs to one of the new neighbors.”

  “That dog is not helpless. I want him gone by the time I get home tonight.” Grant grumbled again and my dad took a step back.

  “The dog could be feral.” Grant wasn’t feral; he was too clean and well behaved. My father stalked back across the lawn. For the next ten minutes he slammed cabinets in the kitchen and stormed around the house as he got ready to leave for work.

  “Come on Grant.” I called my newfound friend and headed into the house when both Mom and Dad were gone. “Do you like hamburger?” I asked, pulling out some ground beef from the freezer and rice from the pantry. We normally gave rice and beef to dogs that needed to gain weight; he definitely didn’t need to gain any. But since I didn’t know his normal diet, I figured it was a safe choice.

  I sat at the table eating my cereal and thumbing through the lost ads as Grant cleaned his dish of the hamburger and rice mixture I had made. “Is that good boy? Huh?” I reached over and rubbed his thick mane. He claimed the spot next to me on the floor and stretched out on the cool tiles.

  “Can you walk on a leash?” I asked as I pulled out a spare leash to loop to his collar. It was an adventure trying to get Grant to agree to go onto the lead, which he never did.

  “Come on now. I can’t just go walking down the street with you. What if you run off? I’d never forgive myself if you were hit by a car.” Then again, the car would probably suffer more damage than the dog. I tried not to grin at the thought as I took aim and attempted to get the leash on his collar but he jerked away. I ended up doubled over him with my head to the floor and my feet towards the ceiling over his back. I slid myself slowly onto the floor and lay there looking up at the dog looming over me. “Ok, this is not going to work. How am I going to find your owner if you aren’t helping me?” He sprawled out flat on the floor next to me and laid his head on my shoulder. He was not making this any easier. Dad would blow up when he got home if the dog was still here. “Grant, I know you like it here. But you have to go home. Dad will never let me keep you, and I’m sure someone is missing you.” He let out a small whimper. “I know boy. I know. I will find your owner.”

  A week later, after I had blanketed my neighborhood with found signs, Dad finally agreed to let Grant sleep in the house. Dad didn’t like it, but my mother and I took him on and wore him down. He bought a large dog bed and tossed it into one corner of the kitchen insisting that was the extent of Grant being in the house.

  I spent more time with Grant than I had with Jillian the final days before my first day. The night before school started turned out to be painful. My parents’ argument from the night before continued and my dad got more irrational. I sought refuge in my iPod and the new Blink 182 CD I downloaded, but it didn’t help; their voices bellowed from downstairs.

  “I never wanted any of this!” I heard Mom scream.

  “Then why did you say yes?” Dad retorted. Ugh. They knew I could hear them; they had to know that our neighbors could hear them and it was after midnight. So much for getting a full night’s sleep for school the next day. Thankfully, I only had school half day since I worked the afternoons at the clinic.

  “Why don’t you just leave?” Dad’s voice rose again over my music.

>   I knew the answer to that: she had nowhere else to go. Mom’s parents and only sister had passed away years ago before I was born. Dad’s family had been the only support my mother had since she was my age.

  “You’re such an asshole.” My mother screamed back as my dad’s voice muffled; it sounded as if he was heading down the hallway. They would be in their bedroom shortly. Fantastic.

  I tugged the afghan Aunt Jamie made and held it tightly to my chest. I just wished they would stop. People who are this miserable shouldn’t be together.

  Dad’s footsteps pounded on the stairway, past my bedroom, and his door slammed with a bone-shaking THUD. I tossed the opposite way of their room on my bed and clutched my pillow to my head. Grant’s large black nose pressed against the bottom of the door with his large claws peeking beneath the door. I rushed over to let him into my room.

  “I’m so sorry Grant. I thought you were still outside.” Grant’s head nuzzled into my side as I set my hand comfortably on his back and walked back to the bed. He sat patiently as I climbed back in and covered up with the blankets. “Come on boy.” I patted the edge of the bed allowing Grant to sleep with me. If Dad knew, he’d be furious. He said Grant’s eyes made him feel uneasy, as if he could attack anyone at anytime.

  I rubbed my hand through Grant’s soft fur as he laid his head