The Beginning of After - By Jennifer Castle Page 0,79

It had just come out, and now that it was on my computer screen it only made me want to slap myself.

I’d come home straight from school on Wednesday to work on my essay, the clock counting down the final thirty-six hours until I had to submit my application to Yale. Really, I had backed myself further into a corner by deciding I wouldn’t mention my family in any way.

The weekend with David, the afternoon with Mr. Kaufman. I couldn’t process any of it into something I could write about.

Nana kept coming into the den with a can of Pledge and a rag, pretending to dust, but I knew she was checking up on me. She’d already found out that straight-up asking “How’s it going?” did not get a good response.

The blank computer screen was taunting me, the blinking cursor daring me to think up something meaningful and honest.

Suddenly, there was a noise from upstairs.

Bump. Clang.

A low screech, and then a loud bark.

In about two seconds I ran from the den, my heart pounding, afraid of what I’d find.

Sure enough, Toby’s door was open. Masher crouched on the floor with his tail thumping, only his body visible because he’d jammed his head underneath the bed. Bits of fur floated through the air.

“Masher!” I yelled. Another screech and now a hiss from under the bed. He barked in response, and it wasn’t his usual bark. This one was from the gut, all primal.

I clapped my hands twice and called his name again, with no results. Then I dropped to the ground and reached under the bed until I felt his collar, and tugged hard. He whined, and I knew I was probably hurting him.

After dragging Masher out of the room, I shut the door, making sure the doorknob clicked.

“Bad dog!” I shouted.

“Forget to close the door all the way?” called Nana from downstairs, like she’d been waiting for that exact thing to happen.

“I’ve got it under control!” I called back.

I turned to Masher, who looked at me with irritation. I’d denied him some basic dog right.

“You can’t just do that!” I yelled, swatting his muzzle lightly with the back of my hand. “This is not your house!” I took another breath and blurted out, “You’re here because your owner is a crazy loser who doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life!”

Now he seemed bemused, like he knew better and I should too.

Did David teach you that look, or the other way around?

I grabbed Masher’s collar again and pulled him into the bathroom, which I knew he hated. The toilet ran nonstop, and he always barked at the sound of it. I closed the door and went to check on the cats.

None of them were hurt, but Lucky seemed nervous. I lay down on Toby’s bed and she hopped up onto the end of it, looking at me quizzically from above my toes.

“I know,” I said to her. “I know.”

Her eyes narrowed into smiling slits, and I realized she hadn’t been nervous for herself or her kittens. She’d been nervous for me, what with all my yelling.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I said. She stepped onto my leg and walked up the length of my body, not losing her balance for an instant, and poked her head into my armpit.

I stayed there for a while, petting her, and then it came to me.

I would write my essay about the cats and Dr. B and Eve and the different ways something could be hurt and healed, and what I’d learned from that. I didn’t have to mention my family outright, but they would be there, between the lines. So I went downstairs and sat at the computer.

Lucky the cat is blinking at me with trusting yellow eyes.

The rest of it came out so fast, I had a draft before dinner.

Almost as if he’d known what had happened with Masher, that night David answered my email.

laurel

thank you for writing. it’s good to know that you don’t hate me, at least not yet.

i’m in richmond, virginia. the band's got a ton of fans here.

this city has a lot of statues of confederate generals, which means i must really be in the south.

keep in touch,

david

Keep in touch.

I suddenly realized how annoying that expression was. Like, Now it’s your job to stay in contact with me. It said, I’m really just too lazy.

I started to write back, to keep in touch, but decided I’d be lazy as well.

On Thursday morning I woke up early, did a final pass