Page 17 of Save Me

“Animals die, son. Now let me sleep.”

For a second, I just stand there, the same feeling I got with Lola washing over me. Lola was our turtle. She got really sick and stopped eating, and my parents wouldn’t take her to the vet. Said it was too expensive. Lola died in my hands.

So, even though my tummy feels cold, I knock again. I can’t let Nippy become like Lola.

There’s a pause, then the thump of feet. The back of my neck feels weird, like someone is right behind me, and I back away from the door. He’s going to beat me for this.

The door rips open, and Dad is there. He hisses, “What’s the fucking rule?”

I swallow, but it hurts; my throat is dry. Dad’s eyes look weird. They look black instead of their usual blue. The more I don’t answer, the more I feel like running. But I can’t run; Nippy’s in trouble.

“Don’t wake you up,” I whisper, but it sounds shaky. I sound scared.

His hand snaps out and grabs my shoulder. Hard. “Then fucking stop.”

He’s squeezing so hard my shoulder feels hot where his fingers are digging in. I freeze. I can’t move, or it’ll hurt more. It already feels like he’s reaching through me.

“Okay,” I say.

Then he lets go and slams the door.

Tears fill my eyes. Tears. I’m crying like a baby, and I’m not a baby.

I sniffle them up.

Maybe if I get enough money, Dad will say yes.

But how do I get money? I go through ideas like I’m flipping through my baseball cards, except my fingers are sweaty and I keep dropping them. I’ve been saving for a while, but I only have twelve dollars.

Wait. Lemonade stand! I think we have some in the cabinet. I rush to check, and sure enough, there’s a container of lemonade mix. I yell for Chloe to come help me, explain my idea, and she starts asking me a million questions. I know she’s scared, but I don’t know what to say. Do I tell her it’ll be okay? What if it isn’t?

I lug everything to the driveway and wait. It has to be okay. This will help. I repeat it over and over. This will help.

By the time the sun goes down, we’ve had a few people who stop. Chloe puts on a show for them, as she always does. She’s a sweet, sensitive little ray of sunshine. And it works; she grins, says she likes their clothes, and exuberantly points at her dress with excavators on it. They think she’s super cute and pay us more than the dollar we’re asking.

When the sun is almost down, an older lady stops and hands over a twenty-dollar bill. The old lady smiles and waves us off. “Keep it.”

My mouth almost drops open. Twenty dollars?

But the lady is driving off.

For a moment, my chest feels less heavy. This is crazy! We might be able to do this.

Rushing back into the house with Chloe following, I see Dad getting dinner ready, hair messed up.

“Dad!” Chloe yells. “Dad, look!”

I run faster. Chloe’s charm might work on strangers, but when Dad’s in a mood, it only pisses him off more.

“Dad.” I run up, breathless, shoving the money at him. “I have twelve more dollars in my room. We can go.”

He gives me a confused look.

“Nippy.” My heart is racing. Why isn’t he getting his shoes on?

Chloe is jumping up and down in the background, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her do a cartwheel.

Dad glances at the change in my hands, then up at me. “Do you have any idea how much the vet costs?”