Fly Away by Nora Rock Page A

the spot. A big dark shape was barreling toward her. A dog. A huge one.
    â€œRun, Shona!” I grabbed her sleeve, startling her into action. The dog got hold of the hem of her parka, and she yanked it out of the dog’s mouth, stumbling backward. I dragged her around the side of the shed and tried to boost her over the fence, fending off the dog with my boot. The animal was growling like it wanted to tear us apart. Shona went over the fence headfirst, but at least she was out of the dog’s reach. I heard her hit the ground on the other side.
    There was no time for the leash trick. I scrambled onto the sailboard, the snap of the dog’s powerful jaws ringing in my ears. I punched, blindly, in the animal’s direction, and missed. I got one leg over, but when I grabbed the top of the fence to stabilize myself, the dog closed its jaws around my wrist, and pain shot up my arm. I swung my leg forward and booted the dog in the throat, and it let me go. I shifted my weight and fell onto the neighbor’s side. Shona pulled me to my feet, and we ran, not stopping until we were around the corner.
    We leaned, gasping for breath, against the stone wall that bordered the subdivision. “Taxi,” I gasped. “Can you make the call?” I fished in my pocket for the card with the phone number. When I handed it to Shona, she stared down at the cuff of my coat. It was dark with blood.
    When we were safely in the cab, Shona reached for my arm. “Let me see.” She inspected the puncture below my wrist. “You need to go to an emergency room,” she said.
    â€œWe can’t let your grandparents know,” I said. But the hole from the dog’s tooth was deep. Germs could live in that kind of wound. My whole hand tingled too, and it was a funny color.
    â€œWe’re supposed to be out for dinner,” Shona reminded me. “They won’t expect us home until ten o’clock at least. We’ve got time.” She leaned in toward the driver. “We’ve changed our minds about where we’re going. Do you know the Markham-Stouffville Hospital?”
    The cab driver shrugged. “That’s maybe twenty-five kilometres. Forty-dollar fare.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Shona told him. “I don’t mind. She saved my butt back there.”
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    Shona just smiled.
    At the hospital, the triage nurse wanted to call my parents before I got in to see the doctor. Shona was great then too. She convinced the nurse that getting a phone call from an emergency room late in the evening would freak my mother out.
    â€œShe’s a two-hour drive away,” Shona explained. “What if she panicked and decided to drive out here in the middle of the night?”
    When the nurse suggested we call Shona’s grandparents, she had a story for that too: they were elderly and frail and terrified of driving at night.
    I remembered, with a smile, the photos I’d seen the night before of Shona’s grandparents sitting on the roof of a Land Rover in the Australian outback. But I kept my mouth shut. For a fourteen-year-old, Shona was pretty good at thinking on her feet. Having her along on this trip had turned out to be way more helpful than I’d expected.
    The next morning when we woke up, Shona took one look at my bandaged wrist and told me she was calling Benedict. She put the phone on speaker and dialed.
    â€œBenedict residence.” It was the female voice from the gate intercom.
    â€œTrey Benedict, please. My friend was attacked by—”
    â€œOne moment,” said the woman.
    Benedict picked up immediately. “Moe’s up to date on all his shots,” he said, without introduction. “I don’t know what got into him. He’s never shown any aggression before.”
    Shona snorted in disbelief.
    â€œYou were trespassing,” Benedict added, but not unpleasantly, as if it were no big deal. “I’d like to