Me & Jack
Page 15
I shook my head. “I’ll carry him.”
Dr. Hart nodded and ushered us into his office.
After I laid Jack on the table, Dr. Hart took over. He spoke to Mr. Prater and I heard him, I heard his voice, but the words didn’t make any sense.
Finally he looked at me and said, “Why don’t you boys wait in the other room?”
I shook my head.
Mr. Prater stepped forward. “Boys,” he said, then turned to me. “Let’s go call your dad.”
I fastened my eyes on Jack. The white sheet under him was now streaked with blood. Jack’s eyes and ears were pale, his lips almost white. I touched his head. “I’ll be back,” I said to him, fighting off tears.
In the waiting room, I collapsed on the couch. Mr. Prater called Dad. My arms were smeared with Jack’s blood. My chest was stained brownish red. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. I heard Prater and his dad murmuring, but I couldn’t pull myself up. My body was too heavy and the dark room pressed in on me.
Suddenly a car crunched through the gravel outside and screeched to a stop. I opened my eyes. Dad burst inside, his face wild. He took one look at me and his voice cracked.
“Joshua.” It came out as a sob. He covered the room in a few steps and crushed me to him. “Joshua, Joshua, Joshua.” He rocked me on the couch.
My chest shuddered as I fought back my own tears.
After a while, Dr. Hart came out. I jumped to my feet. His white coat was flecked with blood.
“Well?” Mr. Prater said.
Dr. Hart glanced at him and then turned to me. “Fifteen stitches. He’ll probably have a scar.”
“A scar? You mean he’s okay?” My eyes watered and my heart leaped. “Jack’s okay?” I shouted. Dr. Hart nodded and I heard him talk about rabies and antibiotics and keeping him overnight, but I couldn’t concentrate—my heart and soul were too busy celebrating.
“I want to see him,” I interrupted. Without waiting, I burst through the door to the treatment room.
Jack’s neck was shaved and golden stitches laced his skin together. Blankets and hot water bottles surrounded him. He lay still on a rug in the corner.
I knelt on the ground beside him and lightly stroked the top of his head. He opened his eyes and without moving his head, he looked at me. His lips and ears were still pale, but his amber eyes radiated strength and life, and I saw for my own self that God had answered my prayer.
Dad walked in and crouched beside me. “This dog’s a hero,” he said, his voice husky. He put his arm around my shoulders. “So are you.”
I didn’t want him to think I was crying, so I looked down before any tears slipped out.
He squeezed my shoulders. “If Dr. Hart says it’s okay, Jack’s coming home with us tomorrow. To stay.”
chapter 43
Jack looked real good in the newspaper picture of us they put on the front page. His stitches were in plain sight, but I saw them as a badge of courage, like how the reporter described it.
The paper quoted wildlife officials saying coyotes lived all over Pennsylvania but sightings were rare. Coyotes had pups in the late spring and were more aggressive about getting food for their litters, especially if the food was easy prey, like penned-up chickens or other small livestock. Get an electric fence and don’t leave your pets outside, the article said.
The pastor did a big sermon on me and Jack, saying there is no greater love than to lay your own life down for another. He made me stand up and everyone clapped.
We brought Jack home after church. Millie came by and gave me a big hug. “I almost fainted when I heard the news,” she said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She pulled a great big bone out of her bag and laid it beside Jack, who was nestled in a corner of the kitchen. He sniffed it but laid his head back down. His neck was way too sore to wrestle with a bone that big just yet.
Then the phone started ringing and people kept running up the porch and banging on the door to see me and Jack. Ray came, more newspaper people, Ed, Pastor Danny, Mark, our neighbors. They kept saying how brave I was and what a good dog Jack was. I worried about Jack with all that commotion, but people mainly wanted to lay their eyes on the dog who took down the coyote, and he was rightly deserving of their admiration.
Some kids whose faces I recognized showed up.
“Were you scared?” one kid asked.
“Yeah, what was it like?”
I thought about Jack leaping up to save me, me firing the gun. I thought about that coyote who hunted only to survive. I shook my head. “I don’t feel like talking about it,” I said.
They egged one another on with their own versions of what happened. Wonder and awe filled their eyes. I was too tired to even correct them. And I decided not to tell anyone why Prater had really been up the mountain.
After a while, I had to take a break from all those people. I crashed on the living room couch and closed my eyes. A loud rapping at the door startled me, but when I answered it, no one was there. Then I saw a little box on the porch. I stepped out, opened the box, and found in it a golden strap of leather. The figure of a dog had been etched into it.
I stared at it for a second, rubbing my thumb over the cut leather. Someone else might not have noticed the care he’d taken to give the ears just the right point or the noble, almost graceful, lines he’d carved for Jack’s body. An image of Prater laboring over this figure flashed in my mind. I snapped the band onto my wrist and turned back into the house.
Millie had laid out chips and little sandwiches and pink lemonade. I didn’t know where it all came from, but the whole thing turned into kind of a party, with people streaming in and out of the house all day long. Finally, it grew dark and Millie closed the door after the last well-wisher, tidied up, and went home herself.
Dad locked up after her. “Boy, some day, huh?” he said.
I nodded. I was beat.
Dad turned off the lights and motioned me upstairs.
I shook my head. “I’m sleeping down here,” I said. Jack’s neck was purpled with bruises. I didn’t want him trying to get upstairs like that.
Dad brought down a sleeping bag and my pillow, and after a few words, he went upstairs to bed. I got a flashlight and aimed it at the ceiling.
Lying next to Jack on the floor, I could just make out his face. He licked my hand. I traced the star on his snout. His fur was like velvet and his eyes precious amber jewels.
Jack laid his head down and closed his eyes. I stroked his back gently. His breath was soft, easy. Sweet Prince William.
I leaned over and turned off the light.
acknowledgments
This story is close to my heart, and I’m happy to have the opportunity to thank the people who helped me bring it to life. I thank God for giving me the gift and inspiration to write; my agent, Ted Malawer, who believed in this story from the beginning; Loren and Sue Sherod, who shared their Vietnam-era experiences with me, Loren as an enlisted man, and Sue as the girl who waited for him back home. Risa Saltman generously gave me an entire afternoon, a cup of coffee, and her memories of those tumultuous times. I’d also like to acknowledge Jack Saltman, who served in Vietnam and never let Neil or Pam have toy guns.
My father was an air force recruiter toward the end of the Vietnam War (though it was never officially declared a “war”). My dad always had a joke for you, a new card trick, or a good candy bar. I never knew about the things that had happened to him while he was a recruiter until I was an adult and he shared some of his experiences with me. When he first started reading my work, he told me, “If I could do this, write like this, I wouldn’t do anything else.” I think he would be proud of me and of this book.
Maria Madgett supports me with her friendship and prayers. Matthew Haworth dazzles me every day with complex yo-yo tricks, hence Ray’s love of yo-yos. Michelle Carr and Steve Haworth read countless versions of the manuscript and took the time to offer thoughtful comments and suggestions. My sweet brother Chris, who no longe
r walks this earth, came over every day for a week, put on the ugly reading glasses, and read the manuscript out loud with me until we were both hoarse and laughing too much. He loved Joshua and Jack, but he really hoped I would follow up with a story called Prater.
My editor, Stacy Cantor Abrams, makes me a better writer. I am grateful for Stacy and all the people at Walker who work with me to give the reader the best experience possible—getting lost in a book.
ALSO BY DANETTE HAWORTH
Violet Raines Almost Got Struck by Lightning
The Summer of Moonlight Secrets
Copyright © 2011 by Danette Haworth
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
First published in the United States of America in June 2011
by Walker Publishing Company, Inc., a division of Bloomsbury Publishing, Inc.
E-book edition published in June 2011
www.bloomsburykids.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Walker BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Haworth, Danette.
Me & Jack / Danette Haworth.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-8027-9453-6 (hardcover)
Summary: During the Vietnam War, when twelve-year-old Josh and his Air Force recruiter father move to a small town in the mountains of Pennsylvania and get a dog from the local shelter, Josh is forced to stop hanging back and takes on the unfriendly town residents, a mountain, and the meanest boy in school.
[1. Dogs—Fiction. 2. Bullies—Fiction. 3. Country life—Pennsylvania—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Pennsylvania—History—20th century—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.H31365Me 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010034338
ISBN 978-0-8027-2320-8 (e-book)