I block it out as much as I can. When I think of Duke, I like to remember the day I brought him home. His paws were tiny, scurrying across our floor, and he thought he was much bigger than his bark. It was more of a high-pitched yelp.
From day one he snuggled up at the corner of my bed and followed me everywhere I went. Sometimes I wish he hadn’t because he followed me that awful night too.
Emma had knocked on my window late that night and insisted I follow her. Her hair was drenched from the rain, and it stuck to her face.
“Come inside,” I said, offering a hand.
She shook her head with a smile. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
I glanced behind her. The trees blew in the wind and chills ran up my arms from the cold air coming through the open window.
“I don’t think I should.” I shouldn’t have. I should’ve stayed in my warm room, tucked in my bed, and gone to sleep.
But she took my hand, pulling me closer. “Please.”
I looked into her pleading eyes and I couldn’t tell her no. I slipped on my shoes and climbed out my window in my fleece pajama pants and white T-shirt. I was soaked within seconds.
She was unusually hyper, jumping up and down as she walked. I could tell she was upset because that’s always what she did when something bothered her. She’d mask it instead of letting herself feel her emotions, and sometimes her energy was so infectious I’d go along with the distractions she came up with.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“There’s something I want to do,” she said, forcing a smile. “Come with me.”
She ran off toward her house, and I chased after her.
She spun around once she was in her driveway, showed me the keys to her dad’s car, and begged me to drive it with her.
I couldn’t. I knew it wasn’t a good idea. As much as I wanted to make Emma happy, I wanted her safe more.
She didn’t care. She got in the car and the rest was history. I don’t like to think about it, but I can’t forget it.
Duke saw me upset and ran toward me only to be hit when Emma drove forward. His body bounced off the car and onto the pavement.
My body switched to autopilot. I scooped him up in my arms and held him close like he was still the puppy I brought home years ago. I was numb and angry.
Why couldn’t Emma listen this one time?
She did nothing but stare at us when she got out of the car. Her face was blank, emotionless. Why wasn’t she falling apart like me?
Mom and I took him to an emergency vet, but there was nothing they could do. He was barely breathing, and I had to say goodbye.
My heart swelled up, aching from the gap I felt. When I went back home, I tried to sleep, but I kept staring at the empty space at the end of my bed where he belonged.
The whole time I waited for Emma to call or text. I thought she’d bang down my door and apologize because I knew how much she loved Duke, but she never came. There was no knock on my window.
I waited, and waited. I waited until my eyes closed.
I stayed home from school the next day and watched her house from my window. Where was she? Didn’t she know how badly I needed her?
I hated what she did, but I didn’t hate her. All I wanted was for her to come and say sorry. I wanted her to hug me and tell me she’d never do something that dangerous again.
I went two days hoping she’d come by and when she didn’t, I started to worry. Was she okay? Did she feel so badly about what she did that she couldn’t face me? So I called her. I texted her.
She ignored me.
She sent my calls straight to voicemail and my texts were left on read.
Maybe one missed call would’ve been normal, but I called more than once.
