“Happy holidays.” Almo took a plateful of cookies they’d saved for him and left.
“We have to hurry,” Izzy said. “Ornaments. Presents wrapped. Decorations. Everything just right!” She hugged Siria. “I told you. Home for Christmas.”
“He’s going to get a surprise.” Mimi’s eyebrows were raised.
Izzy reached for one of Mimi’s butter cookies. “Mmm. Wonderful.” She turned to Siria. “A perfect present?”
Siria took a cookie, too. “Maybe not perfect.”
“Definitely not perfect,” Mimi said. “And definitely not a present.”
Siria took Izzy into her messy room. The dog looked up at her from the bed, his great dark eyes like molasses. A patch of quilt was caught in his mouth.
Izzy sank down on the edge of the bed and gently pulled the quilt away. “He’s gorgeous. Chewing on things. He can’t be more than two or three years old.” Izzy’s face was plain, but her smile made it beautiful.
“I’m so glad you like him.”
“You can’t keep him, though. Your father …” Izzy broke off.
“Would you take him?”
Izzy put her hand on Siria’s head. “Oh, honey, I just took the cat.”
Siria went down to the storage room and brought up the boxes of ornaments: her mother’s silver Santa Claus, the drawing Siria had made in kindergarten of Pop’s shield, glass icicles that shimmered in the light.
She hung garlands in the living room, remembering last year. Douglas had helped her, standing on a ladder. She felt a pain in her chest. Douglas. Someone setting fires. And the dog. Oh, the dog.
Siria glanced at Mimi, her voice thick. “This dog would make a wonderful watchdog for someone.”
Mimi held up her hands. “Not for me. And not for you. Before your father gets home, we’ll have to find a place for him.” She shook her head. “Christmas Eve. Everything’s closed.” Her voice trailed off. “We’ll just have to wait.”
Siria looked at Izzy.
“Rescued,” Izzy said, grinning. “At least for a day.”
But so much to worry about.
CHAPTER 18
Siria was being smothered. She couldn’t breathe. And what was that strange noise?
She opened one eye. The dog was on top of her, the edge of her pajama sleeve in his mouth.
Siria pulled at her sleeve. “Stop,” she said softly. She threw her arms around him. “Christmas. Our last day together.” She felt a catch in her throat.
Siria sat up in bed, looking at the star book and the drawings she’d made of Canis Major. All those stars: one ear up, one ear down, a small tail. With a gold crayon she’d marked in the brightest star in the winter sky, Sirius. “I’ll call you Major,” she said to the dog. “It fits you perfectly.”
But there was no time to think about Major. No time to think about anything but Douglas and what she had to do.
Moments later, she was at his apartment door, knocking, banging. Kevin threw the door open, hair poked up, still in pajamas. “It’s seven in the morning, Siria.”
“What did Douglas do in the kitchen?” she asked.
He blinked. “Set it on fire.”
Douglas was standing behind him now. “Not the whole kitchen,” he said. “Just a pot, messed up the stove a little. And my mac ’n’ cheese is the best. Worth it.”
They were both laughing.
“You were cooking?” Siria said.
“Burning,” Kevin said.
Douglas was staring at her.
“I thought …,” she began, sounding miserable, feeling terrible.
“Don’t think,” Kevin said. “I’m going back to bed.”
“You thought I was setting fires,” Douglas said. “How could you believe that?”
She shook her head. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really so sorry.” And in her mind, So glad it wasn’t you.
But Douglas’s hand was on his door. Before she knew it, he’d closed it, and she was standing in the hallway alone.
They’d never be friends again. No more summers at the creek together, or hanging out on the fire escape watching the snow; no more anything.
And she still didn’t know who was setting the fires.
She went back upstairs to see that Mimi had turned on the tree lights in the living room. Everything smelled of Christmas. She stood there wiping her cheeks, while in the doorway, Major wagged his tail. Cookie crumbs dotted his muzzle. The plate of cookies in the kitchen, empty now.
“I’m going to walk the dog,” she called to Mimi in the kitchen.
“Are you all right?” Mimi called.
“Sure,” she said, trying to make her voice sound normal, happy.
There was barely time to walk him, feed him, and settle him in her room before the apartment door opened and Pop called, “Siria!”
She closed her door and flew out. Izzy and Mimi were guiding Pop to the couch. He sank down, holding his side.
Siria slid in beside him. She and Pop hugged each other, rocking back and forth. “My star,” he said. “I’ve missed you so much.”
They opened presents then, red and green wrapping paper littering the floor. Siria had run across the street the night before for shaving cream and that sunny painting at Max’s for Izzy.
“Shaving cream,” Pop said. “Just what I wanted.”
Siria had to smile. There was probably tons of shaving cream in the linen closet. She was handing Izzy the wrapped picture when she spotted Major in the doorway, tasting Pop’s crutches.
Pop smiled. “Your dog?” he asked Izzy.
Mimi hesitated. “Not really.”
Siria’s heart was fluttering in her throat. Izzy glanced at her and she looked back, pleading.
“You need a dog around here,” Izzy said slowly. “Just the way I needed the cat. It’s nice to have a pet.”
“A real pet,” Siria breathed.
Pop laughed. “That’s the last thing we need.”
Mimi stood at the kitchen door, wiping her hands on a towel. “The child needs this dog.” Her voice was firm, her eyes behind her round glasses determined.
Mimi! It was hard to believe.
Siria remembered the almost-real family she and Laila wanted. She had hoped for a dog then, one she could carry in her backpack. But Major was the one she wanted!
Mimi was still talking. “This dog has helped Siria grow up. She’s bathed him, fed him, walked him …”
Rescued him.
Siria must have said it aloud.
Pop squeezed her shoulder. “Tell me.”
She tried to steady her mouth. “He was all alone,” she said. “It’s so hard to be alone.”
Pop took her hand. “I know.”
“He had no one to feed him, or take care of him.… ” She broke off. “Oh, Pop. I love this dog. I’ve named him Major.”
Pop was silent for a moment. “You’re named after Canis Major. Your mom loved seeing that constellation every winter. And your star is in his collar.”
“Joe, please,” Izzy said to Pop.
“She needs …,” Mimi began again.
Pop still didn’t say anything.
“Besides,” Mimi said. “I knitted him a gold collar to match Siria’s Christmas gloves. I stayed up last night to do it.”
Pop put his arms out and Siria leaned into them.
“Because I was in the hospital I couldn’t buy you something new,” he said. “But I do have a gift for you, a charm bracelet Mom wore all the time.”
Siria had seen the bracelet in a box on his dresser. She loved those charms: a flower, a firefighter’s shield, a baby …
“Suppose,” Pop said, “we go down to Anton’s Jewelry next week. We’ll buy a dog charm, since Major’s going to be yours.”
Hers!
Major seemed to know. He sank down at her feet and slept while they opened the rest of their presents.
CHAPTER 19
The morning after Christmas, Siria stood at her bedroom window, holding the bracel
et. It had circled Mom’s wrist long ago. Mom had touched those small charms, just as Siria did now. And next week there’d be a new charm.
She left the apartment, carrying the little round bowl with its blue-purple fighting fish looking out at the world. Down the steps, carefully, water sloshing. She pressed Laila’s bell with her elbow.
Laila opened the door, threw her arms around Siria, and pulled her inside. “Beautiful! I’ll name her …”
She stared into the bowl, her eyes large behind her glasses. “I’ll name her for you: Sister.”
They both laughed. “I think it’s a male,” Siria said.
“All right. Brother.” Laila sighed. “The dog,” she said then. “Is he yours now?”
Siria nodded. “The one that wandered around. All cleaned up now.”
Laila handed her a package. Siria could feel it was a book. “Perfect,” she said as she tore off the paper: a book that showed the constellations. “I love it.”
She leaned forward. “I found out. Douglas didn’t set those fires.”
“I’m so glad,” Laila said. “We have our brother back for our pretend family.”
If only …
Siria went back upstairs, thinking about the last present she had to give. She’d seen it in Max’s Art Supply Store when she’d bought the painting for Izzy: a model of the Monitor, a Civil War ship, ready to put together.
She left Major in her bedroom and went downstairs quickly. She left the package in front of Douglas’s door.
He’d know it was from her.
Then she huddled on the fire escape, sitting on her quilt, watching a few flakes of snow drift down, and heard the clang of work boots against the iron steps as Douglas came up toward her.
At first he didn’t say anything, and she knew that if she tried to speak, she’d start to cry.
“Your present,” he said then. “The Monitor. Is that what we’ve been having? A war?”
“Someone’s been setting fires. Wearing your jacket. And I heard Kevin talking about your kitchen.” She shook her head. “Your hands all blistered …”
He leaned against the brick wall, shaking his head.
“I should have known you wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Begin again,” he said. “The whole thing.”
She spoke as slowly as Laila would have. The shed. The movie theater. The creek. She went through all of it, watching his face. He was listening carefully. He always paid attention.
“Where’s that piece of cloth?” he asked.
She reached into her pocket and handed it to him, with the knife tip caught inside.
“It’s from my jacket. I tore it on the roof. My mother had a fit!” He touched the knife, then squinted up at the snow. “I gave the jacket to my cousin, Kim. She said it was the ugliest thing she ever saw. She’d use it for a play her class was doing.”
Kim with the hoop earrings! Siria had seen her somewhere. Was it right after the shed fire?
Had Kim set those fires?
Douglas was thinking that, too; she could see it in his face. He shook his head. “She’s at our grandmother’s today. When she gets back, I’ll find out.”
Siria nodded, hesitated. “You’re my best friend.”
“You’re mine, too, I guess.” He grinned at her.
They sat there thinking. “Maybe we should look at the shed again right away,” Siria said. “Maybe she left something in there.”
Douglas stood up, slapped his hands together. “We have a lot to do.”
Douglas. Friends again.
CHAPTER 20
Clouds scudded across the sky as they waded into the lot, circling the trees. “See?” she said. “Footprints all over the place.”
Douglas put his foot into one. “A little bigger than mine. Not much, though.” He frowned. “Maybe a teenager. Maybe Kim.”
They stopped at the shed door and stood there, listening.
“I don’t hear anything,” she whispered.
Douglas leaned forward, his head against the door. “All right, then.” He shoved it open.
Light filtered in from the spaces between the walls. The room was a mess. The quilt was bunched up in the corner, so filthy it was hard to know what color it had been.
“Someone was living here.” Douglas pointed to the wall. “Probably not since the fire. A small piece of the wall was burned, so the wind comes through. Colder than ever.”
He kicked at the quilt. “But this wasn’t Kim. She’d never want to live in this mess. Besides, she’s afraid of her shadow.” He looked down at the quilt. “That was my brother Ashton’s a long time ago. Mom threw it out.” He grinned. “But Ashton didn’t set those fires. He hardly leaves his bedroom, texting, watching TV.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Douglas closed his eyes. “Who did I see that day? Just Jason and his friend with the tattoo. And yeah, Kim, coming out of Trencher’s.” He bent down. “Here’s something.”
Siria leaned over his shoulder. “What?”
“An earring.” Douglas grinned at her. “A star. Here’s your fire starter.”
“Mine!” She scooped it up. “But I didn’t—”
“I know that. I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Sorry,” she said again, knowing exactly what he meant.
That night, from her window, Siria watched snow swirling. She saw something a few blocks away and angled her head. An orange glow? Was it another fire? Yes. She had to go out. She had to see.
Pop had gone to sleep early after dinner, and Major slept on the edge of her bed.
In her jacket, Siria waded through the gift wrap they hadn’t bothered to clear away from the living room. She scooped up the new gloves Mimi had knitted for her: black with a gold thread running through.
Outside, she listened for the sirens, but everything was quiet, and she couldn’t see the fire. She stepped back and tilted her head to look up at her window, to figure out the direction.
Where was it?
She spun around.
That way.
Toward the school.
She walked quickly, quietly, listening to the soft swish of her boots. Overhead, the moon cast shadows on the street. No one was out, and a few lights gleamed from windows. The whole world was home, sleeping. Except for her. And maybe someone who set fires.
The school loomed in front of her, the cement models of the presidents over the door looking weird in the dark. She went into the snowy yard through the open gate.
Dim lights shone from the halls inside. In her classroom, chairs were lined up on the tables. Mrs. Hall’s desk was in front, neat now for the holidays, with only the large wooden apple someone had given her for her birthday.
Siria still couldn’t see any fire.
Had she imagined it? That ragged orange glow that flickered in the dark?
She trudged around the side of the building where the snow hadn’t been shoveled. Litter baskets were lined up against the half-opened door of the small house where lawn mowers were kept.
Four baskets.
And two were on fire!
Small fires, but still …
She went closer. Was anyone here, watching her?
The baskets were stuffed with burning newspapers, curling at the edges. It wasn’t ordinary school litter like old notebooks, loose leaf or homework sheets. Someone had wadded up newspapers, shoved them into the baskets, and set them on fire.
Who?
Kim, back from her grandmother’s house?
Who else might it be?
Siria pulled off the new wool gloves so they wouldn’t get wet and laid them on the steps behind her. She heaped handfuls of freezing snow on top of the baskets, listening to the sizzle as they hit the flames, her fingers growing numb.
She heard something. Someone coming around the side of the building? Coming toward her? The footsteps were almost silent, just the faintest crunch in the snow.
She told herself it was her imagination. Really. No one was there.
She couldn’t make herself turn; she couldn’t move. She looked past the litter baskets to the end of the building, to the fence.
There was no way out.
She picked up an icy chunk of snow, ready to throw it, and then she did turn, arm raised …
To see Major, trotting up, panting a little.
She dropped the chunk of ice and slid down in the snow. “Oh, Major,” she breathed. “I’m so glad it’s you. How did you ever get out?”
He stood over her, licking her cheek, and she put her arms around him. The night was different now, the dark a friendly dark. The dying flames from the litter basket sent a warm glow around them.
After a moment, she put out the rest of the fire. “We can go home,” she said. “Home to bed. To our quilt.” The quilt was a little chewed; so was the pillow, and even the corner of the rug. But she didn’t care.
They plodded along the side of the building, squinting through the falling snow. Siria held one hand on Major’s head, the other hand deep in her pocket.
Then Major whined. He took a few steps forward. Someone was there—a boy. He stood in the shadow of the building, head bent, and he was watching her.
She couldn’t see his face, but it was a teenager, much taller than she was. He wore sneakers and Douglas’s green jacket. He turned, stepped back, raced along the wall toward the Cyclone fence, and was gone.
It was someone she knew. But who?
She waited long minutes, afraid to follow, afraid to get too close. And next to her, Major was quiet. He was no watchdog!
But why had he whined? Did he know who had been there? Did he know who was setting those fires?
She went through the gate with Major at her side and ran up the avenue, almost flying, looking over her shoulder. The street was empty; there wasn’t even a car in sight.
Across the way, Max’s had a new painting in the window: apple trees with a froth of white blossoms. And at Trencher’s, the Christmas lights still flashed, reflecting off the snowy street, and the Santa Claus reached out. She stopped.
The Santa Claus’s hands.
Her gloves were still in the snowy schoolyard. Mimi’s beautiful Christmas gloves!
“We have to go back, Major. But it’s all right. I think he’s gone.”
Winter Sky Page 7
