Just Left of Lucky by Dianna Dorisi Winget

Author:Dianna Dorisi Winget [Winget, Dianna Dorisi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dianna Dorisi Winget
Published: 2018-01-17T08:00:00+00:00

I went to bed early that night, and when Megan came in I pretended to be asleep. But the house was way too quiet, and my thoughts way too loud. A halogen light from the neighbor’s garage shined directly into the bedroom window, and there was something oddly comforting about bright lights at night—until it suddenly blinked off and left me in complete darkness.

I was heartsick that my only hope of bringing Boone to Trina’s was gone, and I ached for him with every ounce of me. I could smell his doggy scent and hear the “click, click, click” of his toenails across the oak floor in our cabin, and I wanted to hold him so bad my stomach hurt.

I pictured him curled into a ball in a cold, metal kennel, lonely and confused, wondering where I was and why I didn’t come get him. I wasn’t sure if a dog’s brain worked the same as a person’s, but I prayed he didn’t think I’d abandoned him, that I didn’t want him anymore. Because I knew that feeling. It was like stumbling around with a boulder strapped to your back. Tears squeezed out between my closed lashes. I balled the blanket in my fists and held it against my face to muffle my sniffling.

“It’s okay,” Megan whispered, “I cried my first night here too.”

I quit breathing for a few seconds as shame oozed through me. At least the darkness hid my face. In fact, there was something deceiving about the darkness, something that made it feel almost safe. Like maybe I could say what I really needed to and nobody would remember it come morning. And for just an instant I was tempted to blurt it all out. To admit how angry I was at Mom for dying, at my dad for not loving me enough to even meet me, and at Aunt Junie for not knowing how to get us out of the mess we were in. But in the end, the darkness wasn’t quite safe enough and I couldn’t do it. I cleared my throat. “Um … do you still have that lamb?”

“Oh, sure,” Megan said. “Hang on.” The mattress groaned as she moved and I could picture her searching. “Okay, I’m gonna toss her … ready?”

I couldn’t see anything in the blackness, but I held out my hands, and the lamb grazed my fingertips before landing with a gentle “whomp” near my stomach. “Thanks,” I said. “Good night.”

“G’night.”

I held the lamb against my face, comforted by the feel of its soft, curly wool. Then I stuffed it down behind my knees where Boone liked to sleep and curled my legs around it.

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