Winter Sky (11 page)

Mr. Trencher was behind the counter, helping someone.

He smiled when he saw her. “Siria, did you get everything you wanted for Christmas?”

“A dog.”

The shopper picked up her packages. “That’s the best present.”

Siria nodded. “Mimi sent me.…”

“I’m sorry. I know she’s waiting.” Mr. Trencher took a list out of his pocket. “Just let me find everything.” He went to the back of the store and pulled
out bunches of carrots, string beans, and broccoli. He took meat from another bin, then called back, “She wants a giant bag of kibble. Guess that’s for the new dog.”

Siria leaned on the counter. Kibble. Major would love it.

Mr. Trencher piled food on the counter. “You might have to make two trips with all this,” he said. “I’m sorry. I can’t leave the store.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s fine. Is Jason off for the holidays?”

“That boy. Lazy! And food is missing, even dog food. Dog food! Not a can of beef left. Can you imagine? I fired him. Told his friend I didn’t want to see him in here anymore.”

Jason. It had been Jason all the time.

She picked up the bag of kibble and one of the other bundles. She asked as slowly as Laila would. “Do you know where Jason lives?”

Mr. Trencher leaned on his elbows. “Somewhere near the school.” He waved his hand. “Just past the old shed.”

Siria nodded. As soon as she brought the groceries upstairs, she was going to find him.

Siria put the groceries away. Jason was a lot bigger than she was, a lot stronger. But being small had helped her before. She’d slid into the pipe to free the dog, edged her way into the movie theater.

She’d be as tough as she had to be. She took a breath.

Maybe.

He’d probably stolen her Christmas gloves. She’d get them back, and tell him this was the end of the fire starting.

After lunch, Pop lay on the couch, napping, and she snapped on Major’s red leash. “Come on,” she whispered. “You’ll make me braver than I am.”

Laila and her mother were in the elevator. “Merry Christmas,” Laila said. “We’re on our way to my aunt’s house for more presents!”

There was a small dot of gold paint on Laila’s cheek. From painting the star shelter? Siria smiled. Her birthday was only a few days away!

Outside, she and Laila waved as they went in opposite directions.

Where would she begin to look for Jason? The shed? She took Major along to the empty lots. The door was open, banging in the wind, the old quilt still bunched up in the corner. No fresh footprints in the snow.

Next they wandered around the school. The litter baskets were still there; one had tipped over, and blackened newspaper blew across the yard.

The janitor came outside. “Do you miss school so much you have to come on the holidays?” He glanced at the baskets and frowned.

Siria shook her head. “I didn’t do that.”

He nodded. “You’re a good kid, I know that.” He reached down and gave Major a pat.

“I’m looking for Jason,” she said.

“The delivery boy?”

She nodded.

“Two kids always together,” the janitor said. “I even mix them up sometimes. Mike is the other one. I see him around sometimes with his dog, but not one like yours. His is a mess. The boy really doesn’t take care of him.”

Siria froze. She could hardly get the words out. “A dog that looks like a wolf?”

“Exactly.” He nodded and ran back up the steps.

Siria waved, tugged gently on Major’s leash, then left the schoolyard.

The janitor called after her. “I don’t know about Jason. But I think I saw Mike down at the creek. A lot of kids are ice-skating.”

She’d have to start there. Mike would know where Jason was.

But Major wasn’t hers. The words thudded in her chest. He belonged to Mike? How could she give him up?

Major loped along beside her as she walked toward the sledding hills and the creek. He loved it. He stopped to bite an old leaf that had blown up against the curb. He pushed a lump of snow with his nose. And he looked up at her, almost as if he were saying
What fun this is!

And there was Jason, ahead of her, ice skates slung over his shoulder.

“Wait!” Siria called after him.

He turned, wearing a puffy navy-blue jacket and blue leather gloves.

“I want to talk to you about the fires,” she said.

He shook his head. “What fires?”

She stepped away from him, trying to make
herself stand there, to stand tall. “The ones you set.”

He raised his hands to his chest, his face shocked. “Not me. Never me.”

“Where’s the green jacket?”

He frowned. “What’s this about?”

“Did you take a jacket?”

“Sure. I gave it to Mike. He was cold, his own jacket was thin, worn out.”

It flashed through her head. In the schoolyard. Could it have been Mike watching her?

She closed her eyes. Not Douglas. Not Jason. What was the matter with her? Mike.

“Forget it,” she told Jason. She stumbled around him and headed for the creek.

The ice was thicker today, and a bunch of kids were skating. She watched for a while, and then she saw Mike, wearing the torn green jacket. He was sliding around, no skates, but wearing her knitted gloves, so small for him they hung off his hands.

Major saw him, too. He would have run to Mike if she’d let go of the leash. He pulled, whining softly. She tugged back. “Mike!” she called.

He saw her and hesitated. After a moment, he came toward her. “What do you want?”

Major tugged harder at his leash, trying to get to him.

“My father is a firefighter. I don’t want him to get hurt. And …” Her hands went to her hips. She was yelling now. “You’re setting fires. That’s arson!”

He came closer. Major, his paws raised against Mike’s legs, loved him. She could see that. She’d never felt worse.

“I had to keep warm,” he said. “All the snow …” He broke off. “The dog looks good.”

“No thanks to you.”

He bent down, picked up a small stone, and threw it so it skittered across the ice. “Are you going to keep him?”

“Isn’t he yours?” Tears filled her throat.

Mike shook his head. “I felt sorry for him. It’s hard to keep a dog when you don’t have a place to stay. Even that empty apartment Jason found for me didn’t last.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, the dog’s all right now.” He stared after the stone. “And I’m going home.”

She looked over her shoulder toward the houses along the avenue. “Where’s that?”

“Pennsylvania.”

“Far …”

“I had a fight in school and a fight with my parents. So I left. I met up with Jason, a good guy. He helped me find places to sleep. But I miss my mom
and my dad. It’s too much here. Too cold. I had to set fires to keep warm. Then the dog came along. I had to feed him, too.” He bent down to rub Major’s head. “I called my family. They’ll be glad to see me.”

“Pennsylvania? Without the dog.”

“I don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

He was going to let her have Major. He was going far away. Oh, Major. Hers. Really hers.

He patted the dog gently. “I was too big to get him out of the pipe. I was glad when you came along.”

She nodded. “But you stole cans of food from Trencher’s. A jacket. A quilt.”

He began to laugh. “The quilt? Right out of the garbage, in case the dog wanted to sleep in the shed. The food—I’ll pay Trencher back.”

He picked up another stone, larger now, and sent it after the first one. “Good thing you have him now.”

“One more thing. How did you open all those cans? For you? For Major?”

He raised one shoulder. “Had a knife. It broke. I stole an opener from Trencher. I’ll pay him back for that, too. As soon as I can.” He leaned forward. “I’m not a bad guy. I was just so cold and hungry.”

She hesitated, then smiled. “And you’re wearing my Christmas gloves. I’d give them to you, but my sitter made them. She’d feel bad.”

He smiled, too, then yanked them off. “I found them in the snow. They’re way too tight.”

She pulled them over her fingers, still warm from his hands. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re going home.”

She leaned down, and held Major’s broad face in her hands. “Come on, let’s go.”

The boy looked back over his shoulder. “Not bad for such a shrimp.”

She waved after him. “No, not bad,” she said. “Get home safe.”

January first: Siria’s birthday, and the beginning of a new year!

The night would be clear and cold. Even now, in the late afternoon, she could see a faint dusting of stars. There were millions more she couldn’t see. They glowed far away throughout the vast universe. Unseen, like the unicorn constellation Mimi had told her about.

Pop would never know about all that had happened. He’d never know what Siria had done.

But she knew what Mom would want her to do.

How could she do this?

How could she not?

She wandered into the front room. Pop was putting the finishing touches on his latest model.

“I need to talk to you,” she said.

“So serious on your birthday?”

She sank down in the chair next to him and told him all of it. Fire chasing. Fire setting. How Mike had gone back to Pennsylvania. The only thing she didn’t tell him was that Izzy had been watching over her. That wasn’t her story to tell.

And then she waited, wondering what he’d say.

He began, and she knew most of it. He talked about the risks she’d taken. The danger, outside at night, not telling him sooner. What was arson and what wasn’t.

But he surprised her. “You grow more like your mother every day. And I shouldn’t tell you this, but she probably would have done exactly what you did.” He thought about it. “I’m glad the boy has gone back home. I’m glad this is the end of it.”

He held up his hand. “No more fire chasing, right?”

She nodded, looking at his blue eyes, his dear freckled face, and couldn’t speak. She reached out and hugged him hard.

The birthday feast! Mimi had made a huge turkey with raisin stuffing, which Siria rescued just before Major reached the table. Laila had made place cards and invitations to the star shelter after dinner.

Everyone was there. Izzy with her cat, Smoky, who hid from Major under the couch. Mimi, of course. Douglas and Laila, who said they couldn’t wait to show Siria what they’d done, and Pop …

Pop looked happy, his leg almost healed, wearing a Velcro brace.

Izzy leaned over and squeezed Siria’s hand. “My Christmas painting hangs over my fireplace, warm and sunny, reminding me of you.”

And Pop put his arms around her just before they sat down. “From now on, I’ll text you after every fire so you won’t worry.”

And best of all, he’d discovered he really liked dogs, even though Major had chewed up a piece of the living room rug, the front room curtain, and one of Pop’s knitted slippers. But Mimi was halfway through a new one. And Major now had chew toys to keep him busy most of the time.

The birthday cake was strawberry with swirls of vanilla icing and too many candles to blow out in one breath. Then, after dinner, they went up to the roof with flashlights glowing. “Here’s our surprise,” Laila said, and Douglas nodded. “For Siria.”

She drew in her breath. The star shelter was a great square of wood painted midnight blue, with gold stars here and there. Inside were old pillows and blankets.

It was perfect for all of them squeezed in together, out of the wind.

Siria was the warmest, because Major had draped himself across her lap.

With blankets around them, they watched the sky, and Pop pointed at the three stars of Orion’s belt.

The Hunter with his sword, ready to fight
.

And then, at last, Siria saw the long
Y
of Canis Major and the dazzling star Sirius.

“Your star, Siria,” Pop said.

She drew in her breath. Behind her, Laila patted her shoulder. Mom’s bracelet circled her wrist, and
the star book was in her pocket, making Mom feel close.

She looked around at all the faces: Pop, Izzy, Mimi smiling at her, Laila and Douglas, Major sound asleep on her lap.

Not a make-believe family. Not even an almost family. They were all hers.

No one knew what was far out there in the universe, circling the sun, circling the earth. Wasn’t there a story about that in Mom’s book? Siria could almost see it on the last in Mom’s neat handwriting.

They watched the stars for a long while, then went downstairs. Siria looked through the little book until she found what she was looking for.

Maybe Mom was telling her something.

Mom, somewhere high in the heavens, looking out for her.

SIRIUS