Sally's Bones (3 page)

Mr. Simplesmith's introduction to his daughter's new pet did not go according to plan. In part, this was because Sally had no idea how her brainy father and bloodless hound should meet. When she rushed into her house, late for dinner, she muttered something to Bones about hiding in the bushes before closing the door in his face.

As Mr. Simplesmith passed the peas, a harrowing howl caught the absentminded professor's attention. “What was that?” Sally's father asked.

“What was what?” Sally replied nervously. “I didn't hear anything.”

The howling began again.

“Oh, you mean that
Ow-wooh-wooh-wooh
noise coming from the front yard?” she stalled. “Probably just a squirrel…being eaten…by a bear. I hear it all the time when you're at the lab. Speaking of which, how was work today? Any earth-shattering breakthroughs? Wow, this chicken looks really great, Dad. Eat up! Yum!” Sally tore at her drumstick, stuffing her mouth with a much-too-large bite.

“Oh, the lab,” replied her father, no longer distracted. “Yes, we made a fascinating discovery today. Remember that fruit fly we named Lance?”

“Ow-wooh-wooh-wooh.” The howling grew louder, coming now from outside the kitchen where the Simplesmiths dined.

“A bear?” Sally's father murmured as he reached for a pair of barbecue tongs. Holding the makeshift weapon high in the air, he turned the knob of the kitchen door. Sally tried to call out, but the mouthful of chicken betrayed her. She began to choke.

Abandoning the partially open door, Mr. Simplesmith ran to his daughter's aid. Though he was a brilliant man, Seymour Simplesmith lacked common sense and basic life-saving skills. Leaning over his little girl as she turned blue from lack of oxygen, he helplessly called out, “Somebody, please! Help!”

“GGGgggrrr-ufff!” A compact but speedy little dog-shaped skeleton burst through the still ajar kitchen door. The clever cadaver leapt into the air and landed hard on Sally's constricted chest. The chunk of chicken dislodged, and Sally gasped herself back to a normal pigmentation. As her father hugged her, Sally began to cry.

“You're OK, now, Sal,” Mr. Simplesmith reassured. He held his daughter close and stroked her hair.

“Bones! Bones!” Sally wiggled an arm free from her father's embrace and held it out for her puppy. As the little corpse snuggled into Sally, her father fell backward.

“What is…
that?
” Mr. Simplesmith pointed with a trembling hand.

“It's all right, Daddy.” Sally smiled through her tears. “He's my dog, Bones. I love him and he loves me, and he's part of this family now. OK?”

In theory, Mr. Simplesmith took no issue with encountering mysteries of the unknown. As a man of science, his life's work revolved around uncovering the explanations for such phenomena. Indeed, it was this passionate focus that both made him appealing to his late wife and often caused him to walk into walls. However, coming face-to-face with a lifesaving, lifeless dog was something else altogether.

“How did it…? Where did you…?” Sally's father shook all over.

“I found him at the cemetery.” She hesitated before adding, “I think he was a present from Mom.”

Mr. Simplesmith's body tensed. “Sally, I told you not to go there. It isn't a place for a young girl to be. And your mother isn't even there. It's just where her body is. It's not her. She isn't…” Mr. Simplesmith trailed off, unable to finish his painful thought. His eyes scanned the room for some touchstone with which to tie himself to a reality he could control. He found it curled up in his daughter's lap. “But this, this thing, here…I don't know what it is, but it isn't staying. It isn't, isn't—”

“Isn't what?” Sally shouted. She suddenly felt hot, even though shivers ran through her body. “Isn't possible? Isn't real? Look at him. He's right here, and he just saved my life. He's mine, and I won't let you take him away from me just because you don't like where he came from or can't figure out why he exists. Or because he reminds you of Mom.” Sally spat the last words, and her father shrank back.

Mr. Simplesmith could only stare at his furious child. His mouth hung open, but no words came. Since Patty's death, the surviving Simplesmiths had each retreated into their own quiet worlds. Because this was how Seymour preferred to mourn, it wasn't until this moment that he even considered his daughter might have wanted to grieve differently. When Sally finally calmed, he moved cautiously to sit by her side.

“Sally, I don't understand this. I don't know what this is, how it's possible…” Mr. Simplesmith looked from his daughter to the creature she protected in her lap. “What I do know is that, no matter how much I wish it weren't the case, your mother is gone.”

“But I'm here,” Sally said tiredly. “And so is Bones. Please don't take him away from me. Please, Dad. Don't.” Upon hearing his name, the little skeleton dog looked up at his friend and gave her a kiss. Sally hugged him tightly.

As Mr. Simplesmith searched the scene for something he could understand, he discovered one simple truth. In the soulful brown eyes of his daughter and the twinkling black orbs of her pet, he detected love. Though he could not imagine living with a corpse, neither could he bear to cause Sally more pain. He agreed to let Bones remain on the conditions that he stay off the couch and be kept their family's secret. Sally did not immediately agree.

“But wh-hy?” she whined. “Bones is amazing. Everyone will love him!”

“Many people will fear him,” her father replied. “This thing—”

“Dog,” Sally corrected. “My dog, Bones.”

Seymour smiled faintly. “All right. Your dog Bones is…unique. And many people are afraid of things they've never seen before, especially when those things appear to be skeletal animals returned from the dead.” Seymour leaned in a bit closer now, his scientific curiosity getting the best of him. “It is fascinating, though. How does he function without a central nervous system or organs of any kind? Hmmm…”

Mr. Simplesmith paced the kitchen. He picked up a drumstick and tapped it lightly against his lips. Knowing she had lost her father to the turning wheels of his singularly brilliant brain, Sally shifted Bones off her lap and returned to the table. It had been a long day, and she was actually quite hungry.

“The chicken really is good, Dad,” she offered brightly. “I meant what I said before I choked on it. Have some.”

Mr. Simplesmith regarded the uneaten drumstick in his hand and shook his head. “I think I've had enough to digest tonight,” he sighed. “Perhaps Bones would like some of the scraps, though? Here you go, uh, boy.” His hands shaking slightly, Sally's father tossed the chicken leg at the lifeless mutt. Bones shuffled backward and shot Sally a horrified look. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he had the chance, Sally was speaking.

“Oh, gee, Bones. Isn't that soooo nice of my father? Giving you something he made himself in the hopes that you'd like it and would feel welcome in your new home?” Sally looked to Bones with pleading eyes. She nodded her head encouragingly, praying that he would pretend to like the marrowbones of dead animals just this once.

At first, the dead dog merely glared at her, unblinking and unyielding. Sally was about to confess her dog's deep disdain for the bone her father had gifted when the cadaver conceded. Sighing heavily, Bones took the meaty bone by its tip, careful to touch it only with his front teeth. He carried it behind Sally's chair and growled low so that only she could hear.

Mr. Simplesmith grinned. “He obviously likes being with you, Sal.” His smile faded. “Which is problematic.” He took a chicken wing and began to nibble on it.

“Come on, Dad,” Sally said, rolling her eyes. “Do you really think an angry mob is going to knock down our door when they find out about Bones?”

Just then a gust of wind blew open the kitchen door, and a loud crash came from the yard behind the Simplesmiths' house. Seymour rose to check out the commotion, but Sally beat him to it.

“Ha ha,” she laughed nervously as she pulled the door to her. “Guess we forgot to close up. Good thing it's just a windy night and this has absolutely nothing to do with your concern for Bones's safety.”

Her father frowned. “It's not Bones I'm worried about, Sal,” he explained as he returned to his seat. “Your pet's exposure could put us all in danger. I'm sorry, but your safety is my top priority. The deal is this—Bones can stay here, but only in secret. And if I get one whiff of any trouble, he's got to go. Understood?”

The deal was not at all understandable to Sally. But as she prepared to argue the point, she noticed a crisp white envelope taped to the garbage bin outside the kitchen door. Written on it in messy scrawl was her name. Though it was chilly outside, her shivering had nothing to do with the wind. She stepped out of the kitchen and tore open the envelope. Inside was an equally messily written note, but despite its questionable appearance, its message was clear.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Keep the monster secret

Or I'll get you two!

Sally's normally pale skin turned ghostly white. She looked into her yard and could have sworn she saw a shadowy figure slip back into the night.

Could her father actually be right? It seemed someone else already knew about Bones and had not accepted him with the love that Sally did. Suddenly, Sally faced a choice, and the answer could not have been clearer. Being special could wait. The only thing that mattered was keeping Bones safe. Stuffing the note into her pocket, she returned inside and bolted the door behind her.

“OK, Dad. We'll keep Bones between us.”

Seymour gobbled some more chicken, proud of himself for having reached his daughter through good sense and rational discourse. He did not notice that though Sally had returned to the dinner table, she'd lost her appetite.

“How's this for a plan?” Seymour offered. “While you're home, Bones can have the run of the house so long as he doesn't chew anything up. All other times, he can stay in the basement, like when you're at school—”

“Grwoof!”

“No!” Bones and Sally said in unison.

“We can't be apart,” Sally explained as her pet leapt onto her lap.

“Why on earth not?” Seymour demanded.

Though Sally was desperate to keep Bones close, especially now that she knew he was in danger, she was also sure she could never let her father know about the threatening note.

“I mean, you saw what he did when I left him outside of our house,” she tried. “He'll find a way to follow me to school, and he'll bark and howl until I can come out. By then everyone will know about him, and you said yourself we had to keep him our secret.”

Mr. Simplesmith considered his daughter's hypothesis.

“I suppose you might be right,” he conceded. “But there are quite a few issues we'll have to work out if Bones is going to be always by your side.”

“Right,” Sally agreed. “Like what?”

“Problem one: getting to school undetected.” Seymour pulled a map of Merryland from a drawer beneath the kitchen counter. “What if you take Maplewood Terrace to Oakdale Lane to Forrest Drive? That should provide enough tree and shrub coverage to hide Bones the whole way there, right?”

“I think so,” Sally said. Sometimes it was very convenient to have a genius for a father.

“But what to do once you're in class? Or are you planning to hide him in your desk?” Mr. Simplesmith chuckled at his own joke.

“Oh, I know!” Sally exclaimed. “Outside my classroom, there's an old garbage shed that nobody goes near. They all think it's haunted—dorks. Anyway, there's a dirty window that looks into my class. I can see it from my desk. If I sneak in there early enough, I can set it up so that Bones can watch me all day!”

“GGGgggruff!” Bones said, wagging his tail.

“And at recess, I'll hang out with you in the shed!” Sally kissed him on the nose and knew she would always protect him, no matter the cost.

“Surely your classmates will notice if you're gone for too long, Sal,” Mr. Simplesmith interrupted.

“No, Dad. They won't,” Sally quietly replied. Her father regarded her curiously, then returned to his chicken. He did not argue the point.

That night, as Sally lay in bed with Bones curled at her feet, she thought about the coming day. Though the anonymous note frightened her, she prayed that if she followed the instructions and kept Bones a secret, everything would be all right. For despite the danger, this was the first time since she could remember that she was actually looking forward to waking up in the morning. Smiling, she closed her eyes. But in that split second just before sleep took her, she recalled the shadowy figure from her yard as it slipped into the chilly, black night.