The One Where Veronica Took the Dog To School

“Is that your dog?” Alison loitered on the steps of the school. She was stretched across four steps, leaning back on her elbows and feet dangling carelessly. Alison’s nature at rest seemed to default to loitering. Today she wore a black and white striped shirt, puffy black skirt, and pink tights. Her hair was a soft honey colored blonde and seemed to glow warmly in the autumnal sun. Her hair was cut shoulder length and the ends razored for a tough look. Alison had taken a Joan Jet album to the salon as a guide.
Veronica’s hair was black and straight and long. She had bangs on he forehead and wore a black velvet headband to push the rest of the hair out of her eyes. She desperately wanted a Joan Jet haircut.
“He’s not my dog,” Veronica said. For emphasis, she pointed at the dog and said sharply, “Go away!”
The dog cocked his head to one side, tail thumping on the ground.
“That only works if it’s your dog,” Alison said calmly, now an expert on dogs.
“Shut up, I suppose you know so much.”
“Where did it come from?”
“Don’t know. He just appeared last night at my house. He won’t leave.”
“You should name him.”
“I don’t want a dog and I don’t want to name this dog. I don’t even like dogs.”
“How would you know? You’ve never had a dog.”
“I was bitten by Zero, remember?”
Alison nodded sagely. Everyone remembered Zero, Mrs. Schneidawind’s dachshund that terrorized children. Zero had the run of the town and did what he pleased. Unfortunately, what he pleased was taking small bites out of kids. There was much rejoicing when he was hit by a tractor. The thing is, tractors move so slow. Even a short legged dog like Zero could have avoided a tractor barreling down on him. He must not have cared or thought the tractor had to get out of his way. Either way, Veronica was not sorry to see his vicious little biting corpse pushing up daisies.
“That dog was a psychopath,” Alison said. “I just don’t know why someone as nice as Mrs. Schneidawind would have a dog as nasty as Zero.”
“He’s still behind me, isn’t he?”
“He looks nice. He looks like the dog from the Shackleton Tobacco ad.”
Veronica sat on the steps next to Alison. The dog obediently sat at her feet, plopping down in an affectionate, furry heap. In the daylight he wasn’t so much of a Grim as a shaggy, nondescript mutt kind of dog. He did look like the Shackleton’s Tobacco dog. On the side of Laudermilk’s was a faded old advertisement for the defunct tobacco brand, painted onto the bricks of the building. A bearded man wearing a wool cap and a heavy sweater squinted out of the advertisement, pipe firmly clamped between his manly lips. He looked vaguely like an explorer but more like a fisherman. A shaggy, mutt looking black dog sat calmly next to the explorer/fisherman.
The warning bell rang, a shrill prolonged note of a hammer pounding on a metal bell. Veronica and Alison scattered without a word.
Sun City Memorial High School was built after the First World War. It was haunted. Black and white portraits of fallen Sun City boys lined the halls. Over the years, the Great War sacrifices blended with those of World War Two, Korea and eventually the angry color portraits of Vietnam.
The high school had been built when the gypsum mines were opened and the rail road ran through the town and the town believed it would swell with future generations that should be educated in somber, sober elegance. The future generations never swelled. The portraits of those that truly left the city, not for war but for simple economics, did not line halls. Those causalities wounded the city deeper than those marching off to the battlefield. There was no memorial to the children of Sun City who left for the city, for the world, and never came back home. Now the population was so small, all grades attended the same building. There were only 76 students in the entire district. Sun City was aging and there were no children. The school was haunted.

Write stuff here about what happens during the school day. Kath-Grim

“I’m bored.” Alison sat heavily in the chair next to Veronica.
“Congratulations. You must be the first kid to ever in history to be bored.”
“Say something funny.”
“No.”
“Come on, you’re funny.”
“I’m not funny on command.”
“Explain to me that Tartar thing again.”
“What thing?”
“You know, bigger inside than outside and it travels through time.”
“That Tardis? Time and relative dimensions…” Veronica stopped herself before she unmasked herself as a geek.
Alison smiled. “Yeah, that. You’re so funny but I’m still bored. Did you hear about the Beast? I took off some kid’s leg last night. They’re in the hospital.”
“We are supposed to be working on a lab.”
“I’ll just copy your work.”
“That’s cheating.”
“We’re lab partners. It’s collaborative education. Teamwork.”
“Cheater.”
“Biology is so boring. But Mr. Wells is kind of tasty, in a mature man sort of way.”
Veronica looked up from her book. Wells was sitting on the edge of his desk, talking to a student in the front row. He motioned broadly with his hands. He was good-looking in a non-threatening way: youngish face, dark hair and thick rimmed glasses.
“Shame about the glasses, though,” Alison said. “Still, those can come off.”
Veronica felt weird in the pit of her stomach, picturing Wells nude, passionate, san glasses, and inflagrante.
“In-fla-what?”
“If you read more I would have to go around explaining things to you.”
“If you wouldn’t use ten-cent words we wouldn’t be having this conversation and discussing how long…”
“I’m not talking with you about this.”
Alison sighed loudly. “You’re so meek.”
“I don’t think seducing our teacher is a very good idea.”
“Show’s what you know. Honestly, what else is there to do?”
“You could read a book.”
Alison made a sour face.
“You’ll just end up regretting it,” Veronica said.

***
“What made you say that? She would regret it.”
“Don’t know. Just conversation. Seemed like something to say.”
“What made you so sure she’d regret it?”
“Seducing a married just seems like a bad idea. Violates the Commandments or something.”
***

“I need to show you something.” Kath sat at the library table, across from Veronica.
“This is study hall. You should be quiet.”
“Everyone else is talking.” That was true. The library had a low level hum of constant chatter. Hardly a quiet sanctuary.
“We have assigned seats.”
“No one cares.” True, again. Veronica’s assigned seat was the table under the windows. She liked the way the sunlight warmed the top of her head.
“But I’m actually trying to study,” Veronica said.
Kath rolled her eyes. One of the disadvantages of the tiny school was sharing classes with siblings. Veronica would have liked to attend a school large enough she never had to see Christian or Kath.
“What is it then?”
Kath slid a book towards Veronica: Monsters of Myth. “Page 27,” she said.
The Grim. A large black dog foretelling misfortune, usually death.
“So?”
“What do you think about our friend outside?”
Veronica stood up to peer over the ledge of the window. The library faced the front of the school. On the pavement, exactly where she left him this morning was the Shackleton’s Dog.
Page twenty seven had an illustration. A large, wolf-like dog in dog, lurking and snarling.
She looked back out the window. The Shackleton’s Dog was sniffing at an earthworm drying on the sidewalk. His tongue darted out and he swallowed the worm.
“He is the most non-threatening dog I’ve ever seen,” Veronica said. “He ate a worm.”
“It’s a Grim,” Kathy said.
“Don’t you have work to be doing?”
“Why won’t it go away? Why does it keep following us?”
“According to your book here, Grims appear and then disappear. This dog seems to be the opposite. Maybe he’s a dog that foretells good fortune. An Anti-Grim.”
“There’s no such thing as an Anti-Grim.”
“Where there’s no such thing as a Grim.”
“Miss Harlow,” the librarian said sharply.
“Go away,” Veronica whispered.
Kath took her book and went back to her assigned table.


The dog was waiting for Veronica on the porch of the house.
“When did you get a dog?” Seth asked.
“That’s not my dog.”
“Alison’s says his name is Shackleton.”
“It’s not my dog,” she repeated. “And that’s not his name. He just looks like the Shackleton’s Dog, that’s all.”
The screen down was close with the front door was opened, to let in the breeze. Shackleton followed Veronica closely and pressed his nose into her back. He was a tall dog.
“Did you hear about the Sun City Beast? Apparently some girl had a leg bitten off in the Fifties.”
“That’s such rubbish.”
“Am I coming in?” Seth asked.
Veronica shook her head. “Mom will flip.”
“Your mom seems nice.”
Cheryl’s voice drifted through the screen door. “Is that Seth? Is he coming in?”
“See?” Seth held the screen door open and disaster happened.
Shackleton barked excitedly and darted inside.
“No, no, oh no…” The cried came involuntary from her lips as she chased Shackleton.
He raced to the very back of the house, into the kitchen.
Cheryl screamed. “What is that dog doing inside!”
“I don’t know.”
Veronica chased Shackleton. He circled under the table and darted out, knocking over a chair. He barked loudly, racing back into the living room.
“Stop, please stop,” Veronica pleaded.
“Get it out! Get it out!”
Shackleton loved being the center of attention and barked louder. He raced in a tight circle in the living room, jumping from the floor to the couch to the rocking chair and back to the floor. Seth tried vainly to catch him.
Shackleton landed with ease on the couch. Seth lunged forward. Shackleton was in motion again, landing on the rocking chair.
For moment, he achieved equilibrium and was a dog standing on back legs, paws in the air, tail wagging at a psychotic rate, and rocking back and forth with perfect balance.
Seth grabbed the dog’s tail.
The dog squealed like a wounded animal and gracelessly fell off the rocker, four paws pointing upwards in the wrong direction and the rest of his black shaggy bulk threw itself into the china cabinet.
Cheryl let out a low, animal sort of noise filled with dread and anger.
The cabinet fell forward. Glass broke. Porcelain broke. Wood splintered.
“Gotcha.” Veronica had Shackleton by the scruff of his shaggy neck. “You. Are. Not. An inside. Dog.” In one swift motion, Shackleton was outside on the porch, howling remorsefully to be separated from his pack.
Veronica felt her heart soften. “I’m sorry.”
More crying.
“No. You’re getting a collar. And training.”
Shackleton settled down on the porch, chin resting on outstretched paws.
Seth had straightened the cabinet. One leg was missing and the cabinet leaned sharply to the left. Cheryl knelt in the middle of the broken glass and pottery.
“The Holy Mothers,” she said.
Seth looked at Veronica. “I didn’t know you were Catholic.”
“I’ll explain later. Mom, you have to get up, you’ll cut yourself.”
“How did that dog break every single Holy Mother?”
“It’s just one,” Veronica said.
Cheryl hugged the body of the blue robed Virgin Mary statues tightly next to herself. It disappeared into the folds of her shirt. Cheryl did not say a word but made a mewling noise.
“I’ll get the vacuum cleaner.” Usually volunteering to do housework caught her attention. Cheryl picked up a small white veiled head, pink lipped and strangely serine removed from her head.
Veronica turned towards Seth. His face was pale and tight lip. “You should leave.”
He nodded and vanished out the front door. That was probably the last time Veronica would have her boyfriend in the house. It was probably the last moment Seth would be her boyfriend. God damn Cheryl.
“A Holy Mother,” Cheryl said. “We need twelve but now we only have eleven. How are we safe with eleven? That dog is an instrument of the devil.”
“Shackleton’s a dog, Mom.”
“So he has a name now? That dog, that…murderer.” The head fell into the wall and crunched softly in a very unsatisfying way.
Veronica closed her eyes and wished the scene to go away. Please, please, don’t be crazy right now. Please, just get up and go back into the kitchen.
“Clean this up before your father gets home. If he finds out that dog did this, you’ll never get to keep him.”
Veronica didn’t have a choice. Shackleton had chosen her. She was his.
“How about I make you a drink to settle your nerves and then I’ll clean this mess up?”
Cheryl nodded slowly. Her nerves needed to be settled. “But we have to get a new statue. It’s imperative.”
Veronica was already in the kitchen, pouring cola over ice. One a small plate Veronica put out two sugar cookies and a valium. Cheryl’s drink to settle her nerves. When friends wanted to come over, Veronica would demure and say that her Dad doesn’t like company. When having to wear childish clothes, Veronica said her Dad flipped out if she wore anything the least bit revealing. The truth was it was not Keith, it was Cheryl. She flipped out. Wigged out. Cheryl had sensitive nerves, that was how Keith put it. The family just needed not to upset her and everything was fine.
Cheryl sat the table and took a cookie.
“There’s a religious supply store in Ottowa,” Veronica said. “We could go tomorrow.”
Cheryl took a sip of the cola and the pill vanished between her lips. “That’s’ sounds delightful dear. I think I’m going to go have a lie down. Are you working tonight?”
“Yes, until nine.”
“Is your friend going to come back?”
“I don’t know.”