Multigenerational
I sat in the rocker for long hours. And I watched Elsie care for her babies. She washed them with her tongue. She lay on her side and fed them. She nudged them over on their backs to clean them...
Three times a day, I put five of the puppies in the basket. Then I let the little runt feed by herself. Once a day I held her in my arms and fed her a bottle. It was special milk from the vet. The little runt got stronger every day.
We're hot and red-faced and breathless and when we see Dexter we both start to laugh.
"You too, Dexter," Mean Megan says. "You have to dance too."
I say, "Dex too."
Maybe Dexter is too stunned to say no, because she starts making her pretty swan movements while I snap my fingers and stomp my feet and Megan grooves and swerves her head around and makes her hip-hop moves. Mom and Dad stand in the doorway of the den, watching us and saying nothing.
The tea leaves formed brown clumps on the side of my cup.
Finally the fortune-teller spoke. "The leaves nearest the rim tell us about the future," she said. "They form the shape of a dagger."
There he stood, my grandmother's Spirit Man. He came up to my thigh, carved out of wood so dark it was almost blackâwearing a scowl and a ring through his nose and a grass skirt that should have looked silly but didn't. He looked angry and strong and mean. I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry.
This birthday was getting a little bit better. Brady took a big breath. If he tiptoed, he could sneak outside without anyone noticing. He turned to leave the room. A low growl sent prickles up his spine. In the shadowy hallway, a pair of white fangs gleamed. Grit was blocking the doorway.
