Lucy Unstrung Read online

  I look closely at her. She has fine features and eyes that are almost too big for her face. That’s what they say about me too. Her eyes are brown. Mine are hazel. If she were human, we could be sisters.

  “What kind of dog is that?” I ask.

  “She’s a silky terrier,” says Gina.

  “How old is she?”

  “Five-and-a-half.”

  “Years?”

  “Yes, years.”

  “Did you get her when she was a pup?” Gina nods. “When she was just eight weeks old.”

  “And did you name her Lucy right away?”

  “No, I called her George at first. It wasn’t till after the sex change that I named her Lucy. Of course I called her Lucy right away!” She’s looking at me like I’m totally weird.

  I guess I am sounding a bit strange. The thing that gets me, though, is that Lucy looks so much like me. I can’t help feeling suspicious. It would be just like Gina to name her dog after me as some kind of a joke.

  My mom grabs her jacket from the closet. She stoops down and pats the dog. “See, Lucy? Isn’t she a darling little thing?”

  This could get very confusing.

  Gina is looking from her Lucy to me and back again. She starts to laugh. I give her my maddest look. It doesn’t stop her.

  “Look, Kate, your Lucy and my Lucy look like twins.”

  My mother sees my face and doesn’t say anything.

  I am totally insulted. Who wants to look just like a dog, even if she is kind of a cute dog?

  “She had a poo about an hour ago,” says Gina, “so she probably won’t go again, but here are a couple of baggies, just in case.”

  She’s got to be joking. There’s no way I am picking up dog poop. And pooing is not what you’d call a polite topic of conversation. Does she think the whole world wants to know about her dog’s bathroom habits? Then suddenly it hits me. Maybe I do need to know just a bit more.

  “She won’t go in the house, will she?”

  “Oh no, she’s a good girl,” Gina says as she pushes the leash and plastic bags at me.

  I take them to be polite. I won’t be using them. There’s no way I am taking this dog outside.

  three

  After Mom and Gina leave, the dog wanders around from room to room, sniffing everything. I follow her. I hope she’s not looking for a place to go pee. If she goes in the house, I’m just going to leave the mess until my mom gets home. It was her idea to leave a dog here with me.

  Maybe I’ll phone Siobhan. She’s my best friend, even if I mostly only see her at school. She has six younger brothers and sisters. There’s always at least one of them who’s still in diapers, so Siobhan is used to dealing with disgusting things. She’d know what to do if this dog does something on the floor.

  I dial her number and two kids answer at once. Neither one will hang up. Neither one will call Siobhan. I hang up and after a few minutes I try again. This time Siobhan answers on the first ring.

  “You wouldn’t believe what my mom has dumped on me,” I tell her.

  “What?”

  “I’m all alone here, looking after Gina’s dog.”

  “Sounds like heaven.” Something crashes in the background and a kid starts to cry. “Just hold on a minute,” Siobhan says.

  She’s gone quite a long time. I watch the dog. Now she is sitting on the floor beside by my feet. She’s watching me. When I look at her, her tail waves back and forth like one of those big feathers slaves used to fan rich people with. Her ears perk up like she’s expecting me to say something interesting.

  Siobhan is back. “Look, Lucy, I really can’t talk right now.”

  “Could you come over?” I ask.

  “No, I’m babysitting. My mom’s out grocery shopping. Why don’t you come over here? You could bring the dog.”

  “I don’t have a ride. Dad won’t be back till about eleven.”

  “Well, come over then, if you want.” In the background, it sounds like the kids are fighting: one boy is yelling, someone else is bawling, one of the little girls is calling for Siobhan.

  “Well, maybe not,” I say. “You sound pretty busy.”

  “Oh, my mom will be back soon. If you can get here by noon, we can go down to the food court for lunch and then wander around the mall.”

  I don’t really like going to the mall very much, but it’s better than having to hang around her place with all those kids bugging us. And it’s definitely better than sitting here looking at this stupid dog. “I’ll ask Dad for a ride as soon as he gets back,” I say.

  The dog is still looking at me. I leave the kitchen and go up to my room. The dog follows me up the stairs, even though each step is a very big jump for her. I lie on my bed and turn on my TV. I’m flipping channels when I hear her make this funny grunting noise. I look over the edge of the bed at her. She’s looking up at me with that look again: ears perked, head cocked to one side, her tail waving back and forth. She looks hard at me. I look back at her. She grunts again and does a little jump. I think she wants up on the bed. She can think again. That would be so unsanitary. Who knows what she’s been walking in? Dogs get intestinal worms a lot too. Who knows what you might catch?

  I find a show I want to watch and sit back against my pillows. The dog gives a bark. What now? I look down at her. She barks again. At first it’s a bark every ten seconds or so. Then she gets more serious about it and just sits there looking at me, barking nonstop. Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I lean over and lift her up onto the bed. Right away, she turns in circles a few times and plops down. She’s as nervy as Gina. At least she’s quit barking and grunting. I settle down to watch my show. The dog looks up at me with her big brown eyes and then she shifts her body over so she’s touching me. She gives a big sigh and closes her eyes to sleep. She’s not so bad really.

  My dad gets home about half an hour later. I run down to see if he’ll give me a ride to Siobhan’s. He parks the van and I rush outside to meet him, but before I can talk to him, a guy pulls up behind him in Mom’s car. I’m expecting it to be one of the boys from the service station, not a strange man wearing a black shirt and a priest’s collar. It’s kind of a shock. I mean, I know priests don’t get paid much, but I never thought their salaries were so bad they’d have to work at a garage to make extra money.

  “I bumped into Father Tony down at the garage,” Dad says. “He was waiting for his car anyway, so he offered to drive your mom’s home for me.”

  By this time, the priest is out of the car and walking over to us.

  “Father, this is my daughter, Lucy.”

  Suddenly, I’m feeling all shy, but still I say, “Pleased to meet you,” even if I say it so quietly I’m not sure anyone hears me.

  Father Tony doesn’t seem to notice. He’s looking at our house, telling Dad we have a nice place. We do. This is Greenwood Glade. It’s a gated community. All the houses look perfect. If you don’t maintain your home, I think you get kicked out.

  I hear barking. I’ve left the dog alone inside. Will she chew things? I run to get her. I carry her back to the driveway because I’m not taking any chances with what she might do if I put her on the ground. She’s not likely to poop while I’m holding her.

  “Now who’s this?” asks my dad.

  “It’s a dog. Gina’s dog. We have to look after her because Mom and Gina are out hunting down packing boxes and there are a bunch of real estate agents touring her apartment.”

  “What time did your mom say she’d be back?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  Dad scratches the dog under her chin. “Cute little thing, isn’t it?”

  I’m just glad he hasn’t said anything about her looking like me.

  “I have to get Father Tony back to the service station,” Dad says.

  “Can you drive me to Siobhan’s?” I ask. “And keep the dog till Mom gets home? She’s no trouble really.”

  “Well, I think I can manage that.” He turns to Father Tony. “It’s o
n our way back to the garage anyway.”

  Dad holds the dog while I run in to get my bag and a jacket. When I come back, Dad and Father Tony are already belted into their seats. The dog is in the back.

  “Father Tony has just come here from the seminary in Edmonton,” Dad says. “He was at the garage this morning, getting his snow tires taken off.”

  Father Tony turns around in his seat so he can talk to me. “Father Mac tells me that you don’t get snowstorms in April here.”

  “No,” I say. “Not in April. Will you be staying at Saint Francis?”

  If he’s just come from the seminary, then he won’t have had any practice being a priest, but Father Mac is ancient and it’s good he’s finally going to get to retire.

  “Yes, I’m going to be the assistant pastor; it’s a big parish and Father Mac can use some help. He tells me you haven’t much by way of programs for teens in the parish. One of the things I hope to do this coming September is get a youth group started. You might be interested.”

  What does a youth group do? I’m not keen on signing up for more religion classes. “I go to Holy Name Secondary,” I say. “I take religion there.”

  “I was thinking of more of a social group.”

  “Sounds interesting,” I say. I am such a phoney! I’m not interested at all. I’m no good in crowds.

  Dad pulls into Siobhan’s driveway, and I go to get out.

  “You have a great afternoon then, Lucy,” says Father Tony. “And don’t worry, I’m sure your dad will take good care of the little Lucy-dog here.”

  I feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on me. “Why did you call her that?” I ask, trying to keep calm.

  He laughs. “Well, you didn’t tell us her name. And I couldn’t help thinking she looks just like you would if you were to suddenly be turned into a dog.”

  “I see.” That’s all I say. I’m biting my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. I turn my back on them and walk to Siobhan’s door. Father Tony is not going to see me at his stupid youth group. He’s not going to see me ever again, if I can help it.

  Siobhan’s mom is home. Siobhan can’t wait to get out of the house, so we leave right away. It’s about eight blocks to the mall. While we’re walking, I tell Siobhan about how my mom is fighting with everyone. “I really think Gina’s the cause of it all. She’s a bad influence.”

  “You don’t like her?” Siobhan asks.

  “Not at all.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with her?”

  “Well, she wears dresses that show most of her boobs and she goes to nightclubs and sits on her boyfriend’s knee. Now she’s moving in with him and they aren’t even married.”

  Siobhan doesn’t act as shocked as I thought she would.

  “And she shows no respect for anything or anyone. You’ll never guess what she named her dog.”

  “What?”

  “Lucy!”

  “You decided not to like her because of her dog’s name?”

  “Who’d name a dog Lucy?” I ask. “It just shows how ignorant she is.”

  Siobhan looks at me funny. “Mr. and Mrs. Murray on our street have a black lab named Lucy,” she says. “My Uncle Max named his dog Lucy too.” Siobhan’s forehead is puckered up in a frown like she’s thinking hard. Finally, she says, “Except for you, the only Lucys I know are dogs.”

  “What about the I Love Lucy Show?” I ask.

  “When’s that on?”

  “Well, it’s a really old show. I don’t think it’s on anymore. Grandma has it on VHS.”

  “So is the Lucy on that show a dog?”

  I feel like hitting her.

  “You could change your name,” says Siobhan. “I’m going to change mine as soon as I’m old enough.”

  “What to?”

  “I’m just going to change the spelling. Who knows how to say S-i-o-b-h-a-n? Anyone who sees my name in writing just calls me ‘Hey You.’ No one can spell it. Even half the teachers get it wrong. I’m going to change it so that it’s spelled the way it sounds. S-h-i-v-a-h-n.”

  “That makes sense,” I say.

  “So would you like to change your name?”

  Before I can answer, she stops in the middle of the sidewalk and shoves my shoulder so hard I take a fast step back onto the lawn of the house we’re passing.

  “Hey, I know another human named Lucy. Lucy Lawless. She’s not a dog. She used to be the actress from Xena: Warrior Princess. Why don’t you change your name to Xena? I don’t know any dogs named Xena.”

  “I am not changing my name!” I’m gritting my teeth so tightly that it’s a wonder I can pronounce the words. “People just ought to be more careful about what they call their dogs. Lucy was the name of a very famous saint. I was named after her.”

  Siobhan looks at me blankly. “Is that something I’m supposed to remember from religion class? Because if it is, I don’t.”

  Siobhan sucks at religion. She’s just not interested in it. I’m always a bit surprised by this. She’s the one with six brothers and sisters. You’d think that would prove her family was really religious.

  “I think they might have mentioned Saint Lucy back when we got to choose our confirmation names. I’m not sure,” I say.

  “So how do you know about her?”

  “Grandma has all these books about saints. I read them when I’m at her house.”

  “This Saint Lucy, what did she do?”

  “Well, she didn’t do anything. I mean, that was the point. She was a virgin and martyr.”

  “What’s the sense of that?”

  “It proved she loved God. That’s why she got to go straight to heaven.”

  A car slows down beside us. Siobhan looks over at the boys inside. She flips her hair and turns away in kind of a stuck up-way, except that she smiles when she does it. Siobhan’s only six months older than I am, but she could pass easily for fifteen. She has everything I don’t: boobs, hips, and long, wavy hair with lots of body.

  “Hey, baby,” one of the guys yells. Then they drive away.

  I’ve just ignored them completely. I try to remember where I left off. “It’s like this,” I say. “Lucy loved God so much she wanted to devote her life to prayer instead of getting married and having a bunch of kids and having to cook and clean all the time.”

  “You can’t blame her for that,” says Siobhan.

  “Nobody’s blaming her for anything. She’s a saint.”

  “I just meant, I could understand why she might not want to get married and have a gazillion kids.”

  I wish Siobhan wouldn’t always interrupt me when I’m trying to explain things. “Anyway, her father was dead, and for some reason, she forgot to tell her mother that she planned to remain a virgin, so her mother went and arranged a marriage for her.”

  “I’d hate it if I had to marry someone my parents chose for me,” Siobhan says.

  “I think all the marriages in those days were arranged by the parents. But like I’m trying to tell you, when Lucy wouldn’t marry the guy her mother picked, the guy told the king that she was a Christian and the king sent his soldiers to arrest her and take her away to be a prostitute.”

  “She became a prostitute and she still got to be a saint? That wouldn’t happen these days. She’d probably start taking drugs and turn into a total mess.”

  “No, Lucy didn’t become a prostitute. You see, when the soldiers came for her, they couldn’t move her. She was too heavy.”

  “So she was really fat? That would be a major turn-off for most guys. She’d never get any customers.”

  “She wasn’t fat!” I say. “She was just heavy.”

  She’s missing the whole point of this story.

  “Anyway, the king and his soldiers couldn’t take Lucy away to be a prostitute, so they killed her instead. That’s what makes her a martyr. She died because she wouldn’t break her promise to God.”

  Siobhan’s walking a little ahead of me. She stops so abruptly that I al
most bump into her. She turns to face me. “Did she promise God she’d stay a virgin before or after her mother arranged the marriage?”

  “Before, I think, but her mother didn’t know about it.”

  “I bet she just didn’t like the guy. Imagine if your parents were going to make you marry Rodney Blackstone.”

  “Oh, gross!” I say. Rodney’s a guy from our school who’s just a total pig. He’s always picking his nose and eating the boogers. “Any girl would rather die than marry someone like him.”

  “So it wouldn’t prove that you loved God at all.”

  I think about it. Grandma’s book didn’t say anything about what the guy looked like.

  “What about that hot guy who’s always riding his dirt bike up and down my street?” Siobhan asks. “Would you break your vow if it was him your mom was forcing you to marry?”

  I know who she means. That guy is a total hunk.

  “Would you?” I ask.

  “What vow?” says Siobhan. “I don’t remember any vow.”

  She’s got me giggling now.

  Siobhan puts the palms of her hands together in front of her chest like she’s praying. “Oh, dearest Mama, your wish is my command. If you absolutely insist that I marry that sexy beast, I will do my duty and obey.”

  We are laughing so loudly that some of the people driving by in cars are staring at us.

  How did we get from talking about Saint Lucy to talking about sexy beasts? This was supposed to be a serious conversation. Grandma says everyone’s goal in life should be to become a saint.

  I try to think holy thoughts. It doesn’t work. Without meaning to, I find myself thinking of other hot guys. It probably doesn’t matter that much. I don’t think I could be a saint anyway. I’d never be able to manage the part about being lit on fire and then stabbed a million times and left to die slowly in a prison cell. That’s what happened to Saint Lucy in the end. About the time they lit the first match for the fire, I’d probably even be willing to reconsider Rodney Blackstone.

  four

  When we get back from the mall later in the afternoon, Siobhan’s dad gives me a ride home. I notice right away that my mom’s car is gone. When I get into the house, I see that the dog is gone too. Dad is sitting at the kitchen table just doing nothing.