She blows at her hair, which has fallen in her dark eyes. “Why? They wouldn’t miss me if I didn’t show.” She leans toward me and says, “ ‘Real isn’t how you are made. It’s a thing that happens to you.’ ”
I do loveThe Velveteen Rabbit! Beth reads it a few times a year, or at least she did before she left.
“That’s from the play we’re putting on for camp,” she explains to the others. “But that’s not even my line—I’m just a stupid chorus toy. Not that I care. The book’s better, anyways.”
“The book’s always better,” says Riley.
“Darn skippy,” says Amelia Mae with a grin.
Sadly, my French toast has just told on me, and I’ve filled the air with what even I can identify as a highly unfortunate odor.
“Oh, Harry,” she exclaims, pinching her nose. “I’vegotto get you outside.”
I glance up guiltily.
“I’ll walk him,” says Miguel, starting forme.
“I’ll take him out back,” she volunteers.
“I’m sure Harold would love it if you ran him around outside for a few,” he admits. “Try to get the devil out of him, or at least out of his gut.”
Fiona smiles, which is when I realize Miriam’s studying her. I don’t think she dislikes her—but she doesn’tlikeher, either. Strange. Like my Amelia, Miriam usually warms to almost everyone.
“Before you say it, I’ll be careful. It’ll be good practice for when Walter comes home with us,” Amelia Mae tells her mother. She tugs me lightly by the collar. “Let’s go, stinky friend.”
I don’t know about getting any devils out, but my stomach does sound like a pot of boiling potatoes. Once she lets me loose into the backyard, though, the gurgling sound disappears in the din of chirping birds and cicadas.
She plops down on the back stairs while I mosey around the perimeter. I stick my nose in some dandelions and sniff a soggy patch of mushrooms before finding a patch of grass to kill. I lift a leg, then scamper back over to her.
“I wish we didn’t have to go home, Harry,” she tells me. I sit beside her because even though my gut’s still rumbling, it’s rude to wander too far when someone’s talking to you. Also,I’m unusually tired for this early in the day, which is probably owing to the pup, who slept only slightly better than the night before. “Between us, I think Fiona and Miguel would be bananas together.” Seeing my face, she adds, “I mean, really good. Don’t you think?”
In fact, Ido.
“Now listen, Harry, I’m the first to admit that my mom’s weird. She has been since my dad left, or at least that’s what Uncle Jon says. I was little, so I don’t remember her back then. Uncle Jon says he’s a good-for-nothing dirtbag. But I still wish I had a dad.”
Amelia Mae wants a father? This never occurred to me. I rest my head on her leg to let her know I’m sorry. None of us should have to be without the people we need—yet this, somehow, is often exactly how life unfolds. If you ask me, it’s incredibly unfair.
“I know everyone thinks I’m so clever and I have it all figured out, but sometimes I just feel really sad and lonely and it’s like no one can tell. You know?”
I sigh, because do Iever.
“I swear you speak human, Harry,” she says, patting my head.
I swear you speak dog, Amelia Mae.
She strokes my ears and says, “It’s not all bad news. I know it’s only been a couple days, but Fiona’s happier than she’s been in ages, and it’s more than just Walter. Don’t get me wrong: She’s already freakishly perky—or at least she tries to be. But it would be nice if she could just stay regular happy. Trouble is, that would mean letting people really get to know her instead of making me and Uncle Jon her reason for everything. That derpy counselor I saw said you can’t rush feelings,but I don’t think I agree. Being around people you like makes it happen faster.” She leans down and gives me a little hug. “And dogs. I wish that instead of bringing Walter home, you and I could be together all the time.”
I do, too, though that wish makes me feel ever so slightly disloyal to my own Amelia. For now I try to memorize her big dark eyes and her perfect frown and this moment, just in case we don’t get another one.
“Amelia Mae, please bring Harold inside!” calls Fiona from the back door. “We have to go back to the car rental place soon.”
“Drat.” Amelia Mae puts her head next to mine and makes a little humming sound. “You’re the best, Harry,” she says after a moment.
I don’t know aboutthat,but I do feel…strange. It’s not the feeling I have when Miguel tolerates me warming his feet in the winter, or even when I manage to get him out of bed for more than a quick bathroom trip. Then this isn’t me being in touch with my purpose.
I guess…
I guess it has been so long since I have felt like this that I didn’t recognize it right away.
