Summer Girl - A.S. Green Page 0,22

and scratching at the bedroom door. “Go away,” I yell.

There’s a whimper. Then, after a second, a thump at the back door. It startles me at first, but then I remember Calloway mentioning the doggie door. The thump is followed a moment later by a bark outside my bedroom window. I peer through the glass to see the dog trotting across the moonlit driveway. “Well, at least you’re obedient. I say ‘go away’ and off you go, whatever-your-name-is.”

The memory of that guy Bennet’s words rushes back to me: Your name hardly matters. No one on the island will call you anything but Summer Girl. Your stay is too short for them to bother.

I don’t understand it. If I’d grown up in such a remote spot, I’d be desperate for new faces, but I guess that’s what Calloway was talking about when he warned me about being lonely. For the first time in my life, I’m an outsider. An other.

I have a pang of longing for home and Andrew. Andrew Mason’s girlfriend. As fake titles go, Macie would say it isn’t any better than Summer Girl. Anonymity is anonymity.

Well, I’m here, at least in part, to change that. This is the summer I figure me out. That was Macie’s assignment, and I’m not going to let her down. Even if I’m destined for anonymity, at least I’ll know for sure. I’ll know what raw material I’m working with.

Before I can think anything more about that, there’s an explosion of sound, followed by something thrashing and rustling around in the garbage cans.

I leap from the bed and run into the living room, fumbling with a couple of light switches before I find the one for the outside lantern that’s mounted over the door. It’s dim and only lights the yard enough for me to confirm that the trash cans have been tipped and garbage is scattered across the yard. Hundreds of white paper napkins are illuminated by the moonlight like ghostly leaves.

I don’t see the dog, but maybe it’s a raccoon? Whatever it is, it’s certainly making a mess. A huge mess. And guess who’s going to have to clean it up? Crap!

I grab a fireplace poker, wondering, if it is a raccoon, do I aim for the eyes or the tail? It occurs to me that I don’t know a lot about raccoons. Can they jump? If so, how high? Should I get protective eyewear?

Surprisingly, I’m not that afraid. Maybe I’m not destined for anonymity after all. Maybe I’m Katherine D’Arcy, Raccoon Wrangler.

I step outside and onto the walkway, searching through the darkness because everything is quiet now. Too quiet. I cock the fireplace poker over my shoulder and step closer to the garbage cans.

I’m ten feet away from the epicenter of the mess when there is a bellowing roar.

My heart hits my throat, and I choke on it.

It’s not a raccoon.

It’s a bear. An enormous black bear foraging through Calloway’s garbage.

Slowly, I take one step back. The gravel crunches under my feet, and I freeze. My breath sounds loud in my ears. The bear doesn’t look my way. It’s got its head buried deep in an overturned garbage can. That’s one small blessing.

More quietly now, I back away. My pulse is pounding in my ears. I’m almost to the safety of the house when the dark outline of Calloway’s dog standing frozen at the edge of the driveway catches my attention. Of all the times to decide to come home.

“Go away,” I whisper-yell to the dog. “Run away.”

But the dog gives a menacing growl followed by two sharp barks. The hair on its back bristles as it stalks toward the bear.

“No!” I cry out. “Stop!”

The bear pulls its head out of the can. It sees the dog, lunges left, then right, then stands on its hind legs, easily five times the size of the dog. It makes a short grunt or huff, and its breath vaporizes in the night air. I can tell it’s meant as a warning, but the stupid dog keeps moving closer.

“Come. Here. Dog!” I back up, taking step by measured step as I try desperately to retreat. My shoulders hit against the exterior wall of the house and air catches in my throat.

The bear drops to all fours and moves its large head slowly back and forth like a pendulum. Everything in me tells me to get inside the house, but I can’t leave the dog outside. What if she gets killed? How would I explain

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