The Golden Ghost (4 page)

It could have been a collection of fireflies, glimmering in the evening light.

It could have been … nothing.

Just her imagination again.

Still, she wanted a closer look. So she called, trying to sound casual, “I’m finished with supper. I think I’ll go out and ride my bike for a little while.”

“Trying to get in your last sips of summer?” her mother replied. She said it in the kind of understanding mother-voice that made Delsie feel instantly guilty.

What would her mom say if she knew Delsie was going out to follow a stranger?

But it wasn’t the stranger … it was the glimmer in the air right behind him. It was the unforgettable feeling of something silky brushing against her thigh.

Somehow—Delsie didn’t know quite how—the two were connected. She was certain of it.

Delsie hurried down the stairs.

elsie pedaled hard along the quiet street. The man wasn’t far ahead of her on the sidewalk. She passed him quickly.

He had a grocery bag in each hand. The small plastic kind. They didn’t look heavy, but he walked as though they weighed him down. He walked as though
something
weighed him down. He didn’t even look up as she rode by.

What was it like to be homeless?

What was it like to be homeless and to be followed around by a collection of fireflies? That was what it had looked like when she’d seen him from their apartment. It was what it looked like still.

Was there some kind of shape in the glimmering?

Or was the whole thing her imagination? Todd called it her “girly” imagination when he was annoyed with her. Sometimes it seemed that “girly” was the worst word he knew.

Delsie made a U-turn and pedaled back. She stopped her bike before she reached the man and waited for him to approach.

A car swooshed by, turned the corner, and disappeared. There weren’t many cars on the street in Milton in the evening.

“Hi,” she said when the man reached her.

His head jerked up. Hadn’t he known she was there? For a fraction of a second, he hesitated. But then his head dropped again, and he walked on by.

He hadn’t even said hi. Nobody in Milton ever walked past without saying hi.

Delsie shrugged and climbed back onto her bike.

But before she could resume pedaling, there it was again … the glimmer. And this time, she could make out a golden shape.

The shape followed at the man’s heels as though it were … almost as though it were …

A dog?

Could it be? A large golden dog?

And then … suddenly … she could see it clearly. See it, but see through it at the same time.

Square head. Floppy ears. The silken fur rippled with each step. The dark eyes looked at her, looked right inside her.

I want you
, the eyes said.
And I know you want me
.

Delsie held out a hand in invitation. The dog hesitated. She stretched her neck to sniff Delsie’s hand. But then she turned her head away … sadly, Delsie thought.

The dog stayed close behind the man.

Was she real? How could she be? She was a dog that seemed to be made up of a million tiny lights.

Or was she a ghost?

Who ever heard of a ghost dog?

Who ever heard of a ghost
anything
outside of stories?

But there she was, walking along in a sparkling dog shape.

Delsie stared after the magnificent creature. Her great tail waved slowly from side to side. She stayed so close behind the old man, she might have been leashed. But there was no leash.

Anyway, no laws said
ghost
dogs had to be leashed. Did they?

Delsie didn’t know how she felt about the idea of a ghost dog. She didn’t know how she should feel. She had never believed in ghosts particularly. No more than any other kid when stories were being told around a campfire on a dark night.

But it wasn’t even night yet. The sun still rode halfway down the sky.

It was early evening, a perfectly ordinary evening in Milton. Except for a ghost dog walking down Main Street.

If Todd saw the dog, if
only
Todd saw the dog, he wouldn’t be able to complain about her imagination ever again. Not in a million, trillion years!

Delsie drew in her breath. Then she turned her bike around and headed for
Todd’s house, passing the old man and the golden dog once more. Todd’s house lay about two blocks ahead. If she hurried, she could get him outside in time to see the ghost dog.

She dropped her bike in front of Todd’s house and took the steps to the porch in a single bound. She knocked and rang the doorbell at the same time.

Bug responded with a flurry of barks.

Then when Todd opened the door, Bug flew through it. Delsie had prepared herself for the onslaught. Bug always threw himself at her, scrabbling at her legs as though he meant to climb her. But this time he had other ideas. He barreled right past. He flung himself off the porch and across the front yard, yapping.

Bug ran at the man and the golden dog,
making a noise that would have done credit to ten little dogs.

“Bug!” Todd yelled after him. He turned to Delsie and added in the same cross voice, “What’s wrong with him, anyway?” He said it as though
she
had caused Bug to lose his little doggy mind.

“Bug!” he yelled again. And he leapt off the front porch, too.

But Bug was paying no attention to Todd. Instead, he was dancing and barking. Barking and dancing.

He paid no attention to the man, either. He danced around the glimmering golden dog, barking his head off.

The big dog stood patiently. She glowed patiently. She might have been waiting for Bug to learn some manners.

“Bug!” Delsie called. “Don’t!”

The man had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Dad-blasted dog!” he yelled. “Get away from me!”

And he swung at Bug. First he swung one of his bags of groceries. The bag missed.

Then he swung a booted foot.

The foot connected.

Bug yelped, a single piercing cry. He turned and barreled back toward the house. His ears flowed out behind him. He held his long, plumed tail tight beneath his belly.

Delsie couldn’t believe that anyone—anyone in the world—could kick a dog. Especially sweet little Bug!

“You!” she yelled at the old man. She ran
at him. “How could you? He wasn’t doing anything to you!”

“He was jumping at me,” the man said. He swiped his nose with the back of a grimy hand, still holding one of the bags of groceries. “He had his mouth open, and he was jumping at me.”

“He wasn’t jumping at you!” Delsie protested. “He was jumping at your—”

But Todd interrupted. “You didn’t have to kick him!” he yelled. “Bug’s never bitten anybody in his life!”

Todd didn’t stay to finish the argument, though. He followed Bug back to the house and sat on the porch steps, gathering his little dog into his arms. Delsie was left alone to face the man.

The man fixed his gaze on Delsie. “I hate dogs!” he growled. His bushy white eyebrows
were knotted fiercely. “I hate every single one of them.”

Even as the man spoke, the golden dog gazed lovingly into his face. He might have been saying wonderful things … to her, about her.

How could she be following such a cruel master, anyway?

Delsie stepped toward the man. “We know where you’re staying,” she said in a low, threatening voice. “You’re camping out in one of the mill houses, and we know it.”

He didn’t say anything, but his face pinched together as if he’d been slapped.

“That’s breaking and entering, you know,” Delsie went on. “We’ll tell the police, and they’ll put you in jail. That’s where you belong! Jail!”

Delsie didn’t know whether the police
cared that the man was staying in one of the mill houses, but they ought to. They ought to care about anybody who kicked a little dog.

The man poked out his chin. “They won’t need to bother looking,” he said. “Because I won’t be there. I’ll be gone before they get a chance.”

And he turned and started up the street again. Incredibly, the golden dog still followed him.

If only Todd could see …

But Delsie hadn’t even tried to show him.

“Todd!” she called. “Todd … look!” She pointed at the retreating figure.

Todd sat with his arms wrapped around Bug. The little dog waggled from head to toe, licking Todd’s face. Obviously he had recovered from the kick.

“What?” Todd asked. But he was folded over Bug and didn’t look up.

“It’s …” Delsie pointed harder after the retreating man and the collection of golden sparkles. “It’s …,” she tried again.

Then she let her hand drop.

“Never mind,” she said.

The pair was too far away already. She could hardly make out the dog shape herself, and she knew how to look. All she could see now were a few sparkles.

Todd would never see the golden dog from this distance.

What would she tell him to look for, anyway? Something that looked like a gathering of fireflies? Something that was supposed to be a dog but that you could see right through?

Besides, maybe a person had to
want
to
see the golden dog to be able to see her. Maybe a person of great imagination had to want very much to see her.

Delsie turned back toward Todd and Bug—Todd’s very solid little dog.