life to Raisin and has lost out on an easy life of taking long walks and restful naps and getting lots of pets and scratchies. I’ve always wanted a dog I could love and snuggle with in my bed, a dog who would come running over to me when I came home from school after a bad day. A dog who would lick my cheeks and knock me over with his wagging tail. A dog who would give me the love and attention I felt I was not getting at home. But Scout is definitely not that dog. His life is dedicated to one thing: saving Raisin. Play and companionship no longer matter to him, but they might have if he hadn’t been chosen to serve.
But the real reason I haven’t warmed up to Scout is this: he seems to judge me with those appraising eyes. Am I nuts to think this way? Apart from alerting us about Raisin’s glucose levels, Scout, I’ve come to believe, can see right through me. Like he has a bullshit meter and knows whenever I am not being truthful. He seems to sense that I am not only a phony person but also a bad girl. That’s why I look away from him whenever he stares at me. And he seems to be staring at me a lot during this card game.
“You don’t have to play cards with me if you don’t want to,” Raisin says.
“Of course I want to play cards with you. What makes you think that?”
“You look like you want to be somewhere else.”
“That’s silly. Why would you say that?”
“Because you’ve been different this past year, Katie.”
“Trust me, Raisin, I’m the exact same person I’ve always been. I’m just trying to get healthy again.”
“You’ll be leaving next year and going away to college.”
I don’t know how to respond to this.
Raisin continues. “Everything’s so messed up now. Dad’s rarely home anymore, and Grampa can barely remember his own name. And Mom worries all the time about us.”
“It’ll get better.”
“No it won’t. What’ll happen to us if something happens to Mom?”
“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to Mom. She’ll live to be a hundred.”
He looks as if he’s about to cry. His reaction alarms me. Raisin rarely, if ever, cries, despite all the health issues and medical emergencies he’s been forced to deal with growing up.
“What’s the matter?” I say.
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“No. I’ll get in big trouble if I say anything.”
I lean over and grab him by the shirt and pull his face close to mine. Scout sits up and looks nervously at me.
“It’s Mom. Something’s happened to her.”
“What do you mean, something happened to her?” Panic fills me.
“Gramma told me not to tell you. Someone tried to run her off the road. She’s in the hospital now.”
“What?” I release my brother’s shirt, and he falls back. “Is she okay?”
“Gramma says she’s fine, just bruised and scared. She drove over to the ER to bring Mom home.”
“Do they know who did this?”
Raisin shrugs and shuffles the cards.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
He shrugs again, sniveling.
Knowing my mother, she was sticking her nose into things she probably shouldn’t have been. My mother is fiercely protective of us, to the point where I can envision her searching for answers in all the wrong places.
Once again, my dad has failed us when we most need him. I want to stay mad at him but know that I won’t. Or can’t. Because I have failed everyone, too. Still, that doesn’t stop me from hating his guts right now. I hate him now more than ever, and possibly always will hate him.
Raisin puts his hands up to his face and starts to cry. I’ve been so lost in thought that I haven’t even considered trying to make him feel better. Our mother has always been there for us, and as much as her injuries alarm me, I can’t imagine how scared Raisin is. Or how we would ever go on as a family without her.
“Don’t worry, buddy. She’ll be okay.”
“How do you know that?” he snaps. “Don’t you get it, Katie? Someone tried to kill her. Probably because of what happened to you. What if they succeed the next time?”
“They won’t. Besides, if anything ever happened to her, I’m here for you.”
“Great! That makes me feel so much better.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant to say is that I’m here for you and always will be.”