When We Were 8

by catt dahman

  When We Were 8

  catt dahman

  Copyright.

  catt dahman

  © 2015 catt dahman

  www.cattd.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover and photos, 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 express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

  Chapter 1

  It could be said that everything that happened for the next few decades hinged on one insignificant incident or a negligible event if one were not Lucy, the entity that all events revolved about. In fact, the event was only significant to the few immediately involved, and something that could have been pushed to the very edges of memory except for all that happened later. Like ripples from a pebble tossed into a pond, that one winter day never stopped disrupting the quiet life that all of those involved might have had. Whether everyone would have had a better life had the events stay unfolded, it couldn’t be said.

  To Lucy, a beautiful border collie and her owner, Mike Orinston, what happened was a life-altering event and thus, because of what actually occurred, it changed everything else that might have or could have been. It certainly gave Mr. Orinston a direction for his life that he had never envisaged.

  Some would say, later, that it might have been best had Lucy died when the drunk, fifteen- year-old boy hit her with his truck, but no one said it aloud, and because of the way life works and folds within itself, it might have made no difference anyway. Perhaps the actions and events were meant to be carved into a wheel of future times.

  There, in Arkansas, not very far from the Texas border, the weather was most often similar to Texas except for being a little more prone to rain and thunderstorms that often follow the rivers.

  It wasn’t rare for there to be a little snow in the winter, but it was rare for the snow to melt and reform as ice, making the roads like ice rinks, unsafe for driving, but entertaining for children and for dogs such as Lucy. She was a well-marked border collie, genetically a herding dog, loyal and intelligent, barely more than a pup, and she enjoyed sliding and slipping on the frozen glossy surface of the ice. She was having a good time but heard the roar of a truck engine and knew to get out of the road. She tried to gain her footing and get out of the path of the old, battered truck, but her feet slipped, and she went sliding and then sprawling beneath the undercarriage.

  From the sidewalk, a girl screamed as she watched Lucy vanish under the truck, sickened by the thumps and yelps of the dog. She had been walking with her one and only friend, a girl who was new to town; they had found the library closed because of the bad weather. The one place they could hide within, stay warm, and be distracted had closed for the day, and Nelwynn was depressed. She hated to sit at home where her mom hovered with cookies and cocoa.

  She would have enjoyed spending the entire afternoon lost in books and off on imaginary adventures with only the occasional interruption when her friend, Angel, read something wicked aloud from the books she found. Angel was a little crude even at eight years old, less intelligent than Nelwynn, and was the type to earn them firm glances and shushings from the librarian, but Angel was the only person who ever sat and talked to Nelwynn.

  That was probably because Angel was too heavy to run around on the playground. Nelwynn was thin as a reed. Angel had a younger sister who was fairly thin, and Nelwynn had no siblings. They were different, but compatible.

  But it was Angel who got to the street first while Nelwynn was almost frozen in place, dismayed that she was about to see blood; blood always scared her whether it was hers or someone else’s. She didn’t even like scary movies if there were any blood, while Angle loved really gross ones about zombies and vampires.

  Nelwynn forced herself to hurry to the street and catch up with her friend. The girls carefully began to inch onto the slick ice, and Nelwynn gripped Angel’s arm to keep from sliding face first into the street. Nelwynn didn’t want a broken bone; that was almost as scary as blood because she might have to get a shot.

  Not far away, Whitney was attempting to run on the grass, leaping over sidewalks when they got in her way and pin wheeling her arms to keep her balance. She loved running and dreamed of one day being on the school’s track team like her older sister or maybe competing in the Olympics. She wasn’t sure what she would do once she was older, but she hoped it involved running, feeling the wind against her face, and hearing her feet slapping the pavement. Walking was slow and boring, something she often told her teachers when she was grabbed and berated for running in the hallways.

  She was on the far side of the street and saw Lucy disappear under the truck; she was able fly across the yards between her and the truck, somehow keeping her balance. She just had to get to the accident first.

  However, Tiffany Crier and Samantha Werner became obstacles that Whitney was unable to avoid. Whitney slammed right into both girls as they stopped to look at John Wisdom’s truck. All three girls went down on their butts on the ice, and Whitney wanted to crawl under the ice and hide as she fell. A second choice was that the earth would open and swallow her whole so that she would be saved the humiliation of facing the girls.

  So many children were at Whitney’s school, and she could have run into any of them, but fate had allowed Whitney to knock down the most popular, snobbish girl in her class, Tiffany, and the prettiest girl in her class, Samantha. Why did it have to be Tiffany who lay with her feet in the air and a box of blankets and sheets thrown all around? Whitney felt hot tears fill her eyes.

  Surprisingly, Tiffany made a terrible wheezing. Samantha looked flummoxed.

  “Are you dead?” Whitney blurted.

  “How could I laugh if I were dead?” Tiffany demanded. She wasn’t angry but was wheezing and making funny noises because she was laughing so hard. Whitney’s question made her howl with laughter, and she thought that was the funniest thing she had heard in months. “Am I dead?” She roared again, shocking Whitney that such loud brays could come out of such a lady-like, small girl.

  Whitney gave Tiffany a hand to stand, saw Samantha get to her feet, and then helped retrieve the discarded bedding that lay all over the snow and ice. “What’s all this for?”

  “It’s for the poor people, but I doubt they want wet, cold blankets, huh? Sammie and I were taking it over for my mother….” She stopped talking and turned to watch a heavy girl and a pale, skinny girl braving the ice to reach the truck. She knew both girls although one was fairly new to their school.

  “What’s going on?” Samantha asked.

  “He hit Lucy with his truck,” Whitney said.

  Samantha’s big eyed filled instantly with tears. “Oh, no. I love Lucy. I want a doggie like her so much.”

  “What the hail?” John Wisdom had sobered fast from the beer he had gulped with his friends and stood outside his truck. His friends Billy and Tom followed him, getting out of the other side of the truck.

  “You hit Mr. Orinston’s dog, Lucy,” Angel said. “You hit her!”

  “The mutt shouldn’t have been in the street,” Tom sneered.

  “My truck,” John moaned, “lookit my damned truck.”

  “I said you hit her. She’s hurt,” Angel said. She advanced and looked under the truck. “We have to do something.”

  “Get away from the truck, you fat brat,” Billy warned. “The dog’s dead.”

  “Don’t say that to her,” Nelwynn had never spoken up for anyone before, but she was starting to quiver with anger. “Angel is try
ing to help Lucy.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  “Lucy is our business,” Nelwynn glowered at Billy. He muttered that he was going to throw Angel out of the street so they could go. If John moved the truck, Lucy, who was still underneath, could be crushed. If the boys tossed Angel, she might be hurt, and if they drove away while she was searching for the dog, she could be killed.

  “I said to get lost,” Billy smacked one palm into Nelwynn’s chest, causing her to fall.

  None of the other girls had noticed Jill and another girl sitting on a bench and watching the others as they went about their business. Jill and Meg walked quickly as they could into the street, bumping past boys their own age who watched the unfolding drama. Jill grabbed a blanket as she walked, not bothering to ask Tiffany why it was on the ground in a heap beside the box and certainly not bothering to ask permission to take the blanket.

  “Hold the blanket out and coax her,” Jill told Meg. Tiffany and Samantha were already on their hands and knees peering under the truck. Whitney was right behind them, wringing her hands nervously and hopping from foot to foot.

  Jill walked over and met Billy’s eyes, daring him to push her down; she fully expected to be shoved to the ground, but the seconds it took for that to happen might buy the other girls time to coax Lucy to come out.

  “Gimme my gun, and I’ll put the mutt down,” Billy called to his friends. He stared at Jill, kind of worried now that he had said it; if he backed off, he’d look like a wimp, but he kind of disliked having to kill the dog in front of a bunch of little girls who’d most likely tell on him and cause his father to pound him. Pushing fat girls around and mouthing off was almost the limit of his false bravado.

  “You’re not going to shoot Lucy,” Jill told Billy.

  “Says who? You, little girl?” Billy scowled. His temper was rising. If he were alone, he might smack this little bitch around a few times. He’d tan her hide anyway. One thing he’d learned the hard way was how a solid whooping could silence the squeakiest wheel.

  “Yeah, me.”

  Billy advanced.

  Someone howled at the kids to get out of the street, some boys cheered the older boys on, and Jill felt her face go warm even with the air as chilly as it was because people were watching and listening to her talk to Billy. She was smart and knew that she had challenged him and he would now shoot Lucy to save face; she had doomed the dog.

  “You better get out of here,” Billy warned her. He didn’t think about it, but he raised a hand and was about to hit her across the face.

  Angel made a little noise since Nelwynn had already been smacked; he was angrier now and likely to hit Jill harder. She gulped and came over so that she stood next to Jill, willing herself not to run away; her knees shook. “Leave Lucy alone. Leave Jill alone, too.”

  Meg, Samantha, Tiffany, and Whitney were busy wrapping Lucy in a faded blue blanket, talking softly but watching the boys with fearful eyes. Had this happened farther downtown, adults would be around to help, but no one had emerged from the stores that were closed because of the bad weather.

  Angel stepped sideways, closer to Jill. Tiny Nelwynn, back on her feet, edged closer. The boys, all fifteen and sixteen years old, were almost as large as men and were tipsy and feeling mean; they were scared as well. They also didn’t like being faced down by little second grade girls.

  “You ain’t got boobs,” Billy said. That meant nothing to the girls, but in his head, he was hearing his father drunkenly explain sexuality, women, and being ordered around. Billy knew that little girls had no power.

  “If you hit her or me or touch Lucy, then I’ma gonna tell my brothers, and they’ll stomp your ass,” a voice called clearly. “So please smack me. Please. I wanna see them wipe up the street with your loser asses.”

  Cassie wasn’t dressed well for the cold weather and was more intimidated by the girls than the teen boys, but she came across the street like a gale force. She moved without particular grace, but she didn’t slip and slide, thanks to her brother’s hand-me-down cleats, and she never lowered her eyes.

  She didn’t know the other girls well except from watching them in her class and had not spoken to most of them since she was very little. She didn’t care that they had fear in their faces or that the boys were likely to harm them. She was centered on three elements only.

  First, Cassie loved animals of all kinds and was very fond of Lucy whom Mr. Orinston allowed her to pet every time she saw the dog. Lucy was sweet, beautiful, strong, and everything Cassie ever wished to be. She was not about to allow Billy and his thug friends to harm Lucy any more than they already had.

  Cassie was poor because her father was disabled; her mother and brothers worked every menial job they could find, but those jobs paid very little. Cassie wasn’t embarrassed to be poor, but she did covet the pretty girls their pretty clothing and big, warm houses. Even at her age, she knew that she and the other girls had nothing in common and that they would go on to greater things while she wouldn’t ever amount to much at all, and while that might have caused her resentment, it didn’t. She simply didn’t put herself around them to be ridiculed if they were so inclined because one thing Cassie didn’t abide was bullying. She had been raised better than to be a bully. The boys were being bullies.

  The third idea circling Cassie’s mind was that she had to stick by points one and two and that she could do that because of point three. She had three older brothers who would love nothing more than beating Billy, Tom, and John to pulp for bothering her. She grinned.

  “Let’s just go,” John suggested. He had watched and listened and seen the kid-Cathy or something like that-grin back at Billy, unnerving him worse than hitting the dog had. She was too brave and bold for his tastes, and he remembered that yeah she did have a few older brothers who could fight like treed raccoons. He was brave when it came to dares or indulging his streak of mischief-bordering-on-misdemeanors, but he was a coward at heart if it came to getting punched.

  “We ain’t done,” Billy assured Jill. He made a move towards Angel, but she didn’t flinch this time because Cassie stood right beside them and glowered back at the boys. “One day….”

  “Anytime,” Cassie called back as the boys walked away. She knew that if one of them slipped and fell, she’d laugh hard, and even the threat of the brothers wouldn’t save her a busted lip, but she still kind of hoped that one might fall down on the ice.

  John, Billy, and Tom loaded back into the truck that fishtailed a lot as it drove away, making the girls smile and laugh. It would serve the bullies well if they crashed again. Those people watching the drama lost interest and walked away in groups or alone; the show was over and did not have a sensational ending after all.

  “Is she hurt?” Cassie asked.

  Meg frowned and nodded. “Yeah. She’s scraped up and bruised for sure. But there isn’t a lot of bleeding. She could have broken bones, I guess. I broke my arm last year.”

  “How?”

  “I fell out of a tree,” Meg said.

  “I did that once. I didn’t break my arm, but it hurt,” Tiffany said.

  “You climb trees?” Whitney asked. She thought she was the only girl who loved to climb trees, and her mom called her a tomboy which might have not be a positive thing, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Tiffany helped hold Lucy, using her body heat to warm the dog.

  Samantha helped with Lucy. “Trees are fun. I climb them all the time.”

  Whitney and Cassie traded glances and then caught the same puzzled look on Nelwynn’s and Angel’s faces. Who would have guessed the prettiest girl and the most popular girl in second grade both climbed trees and didn’t mind getting doggie smells on their fancy winter jackets?

  Whitney and Cassie ran to get Mr. Orinston, finally locating him in the hardware store where he had been visiting with other bored older men.

  As soon as the girls found him, he listened carefully and followed them, asking them as many que
stions as he could between the store, the snowy landscape, and the scene of the accident. By the time they reached Lucy, each girl held one of the man’s hands and reassured him that Lucy was still alive.

  At least she was when they went to get Mr. Orinston. How she was doing, really, they didn’t know, but the hope of a child is powerful, and Lucy had eight children surrounding her with positive energy; that was no small thing.

  Chapter 2

  Mike Orinston wrapped his arms around his border collie and gently looked over her cuts and scrapes, checking for broken bones. The girls reverently watched as his eyes filled with tears and were a little surprised and respectful that an adult cared so much about his dog. “My poor Lucy. Are you okay, Baby?” She licked the tip of his nose.

  “Help is coming,” Angel told him. “And I think being able to lick is a good sign, maybe.”

  “Help?”

  “Jill went to call her father. He’s coming. He’s the vet,” Meg said.

  Jill nodded. Her dad was the town’s veterinarian for small and large animals alike, and she had called his office and asked him to hurry. To her chagrin, he spent precious seconds asking if she or one of the other girls had been injured, and she had to promise him that they were all unscathed before he got off the phone.

  As they waited for Jill’s father, the girls chattered, nervously petting Lucy, patting Mr. Orinston, and shivering. Mainly, they asked one another what each had gotten for Christmas, noting that many had received similar toys.

  “What about you, Cassie?” Whitney asked. She wondered why a few of the girls gave her wide-eyed looks.

  “Not much. A doll. Some of the best tasting oranges ever, and a chocolate bar,” Cassie said as she shrugged. She was smart enough to know she hadn’t gotten much, but she also loved her gifts and knew her mother worked hard to buy them for her. Ten dollars for her gifts was a full meal missed in her house, but since her mom would do that, it meant that Cassie’s parents skipped their portions a week so the kids could eat.