Nobody's Dog Read Online Free PDF Page B

job
.
    Someone brushes by me, holding out a bag of bread. “Look, I bought this yesterday and it’s already mouldy.”
    The guy gives me a look, then peers at the bread. “You-can-exchange-it-or-get-a-refund-with-a-receipt.”
    I shuffle back into the hot sun.
    On Friday Soleil and Libby come home and give me the ten dollars, plus a huge chocolate bar from wherever they went. I feel bad for eating the mini chocolate bars in their jar — all week I’ve been taking a few and it’s half empty now. Soleil doesn’t seem to have noticed. Aunt Laura pours her tea and they chat while I channel-surf through the usual crap.
    â€œJakob really enjoyed helping out with the plants,” Aunt Laura tells Soleil. “He was down there every day.”
    â€œThat’s so nice of you, J-man,” Soleil calls from the kitchen. “You can be my perpetual plant-waterer.”
    â€œHe needs to get into a club or something,” Aunt Laura tells her. “I tried to talk to him about the rec centre’s camps. I’m worried about him here the
whole
summer.”
    â€œI can hear you,” I call back, and flick past some cooking show where they’re boiling lobsters. It gives me the creeps.
    â€œIt’s not a secret,” Aunt Laura says. “You’re moping around here —”
    â€œI’m not moping.”
    â€œYou are. You’re sulking.”
    Soleil makes a
tsk
sound. “Libby’d be happy to hang out you know, J-man. She’s home from art camp in the afternoons.”
    Aunt Laura tries to sound encouraging. “That’s an idea. You guys could go to the pool or ride your bikes to the corner store.”
    I stare at the weather guy explaining tomorrow’s highs. “No thanks. I’m fine.”
    â€œJakob, don’t be rude. Couldn’t you show Libby around? She’s still new here —”
    â€œOh my god,” I mutter. “Just leave me alone.” I throw the remote down and stomp to my room, slamming the door. At least that feels good.
    It’s dark and cool in here because the curtains are drawn. Day number eight of the summer that lasted forever. I leave the light off and sit on my bed, wondering what I should do. Go on the internet? Read? Go to sleep? Dig a tunnel into the middle of the earth? Nothing sounds good.
    Aunt Laura knocks on my door. “Jakob?”
    â€œI’m sleeping.”
    â€œWe should talk about this,” she says.
    Talk? You never want to talk
.
    I hear her sigh. “I have to cover a night shift for someone tonight. You’ll be okay?”
    â€œFine.”
    Soon I hear the front door close and her car start up. I fumble around and find a flashlight in my bedside table and turn it on. The batteries are almost done. I watch the beam move over my closet, my computer screen, the closed door. I sit there until it fades out and dies.
    We’re making a snowman, the three of us, and Dad’s found a top hat and fancy-looking cane for it. I have no idea where he got those but I don’t ask because I know I’m dreaming this. Around us, kids make snowmen with their parents — there must be dozens of families and dozens of snowmen in the park. Then I see it from above, as if I’m flying. Ours is the only one with a top hat. I’m looking for my parents among the families below when the snow starts to melt and everything goes brown, then black, and I hit the ground. Another strange, dark street and I’m wondering what just happened, but the need to search feels like it will burst out of my chest
.
    I wake up with the scratchy carpet on my cheek. My clock radio says 12:36. I pull open the curtains. It’s a full moon out there, lots of light to see by. There are shadows on the street from the cars and telephone poles. A full moon means you can see a lot better than other times of the month, but it also means weird things happen. Aunt Laura always