The Dog in the Freezer (2 page)

Ernie leaned close to Gregory. “You want me to drown that ugly dog of yours?” he said.

“No thanks,” Gregory said.

Another joke, but I knew better. Ernie was always trying to get me when Gregory wasn't looking. He liked to light matches and throw them at me. Once, I was outside school and he opened a door for me. Against my better judgment, I went in. I was looking for Gregory. But the minute I was inside, Ernie shut the outside door and left me trapped between two doors. The maintenance man found me in the morning.

When I came home, Gregory was a mess. He hadn't slept all night. He threw his arms around me. “Einstein, where were you? Why did you just go off that way and not tell me?”

I wanted to say it was Ernie. I was frustrated, and I started to howl. That's the only thing I don't like about being a dog—communication can be a problem.

“Let me drown that dog,” Ernie said again. Once he got an idea in his head, he didn't stop. “I'll drown him in Swan Pond.” The pond was behind the school on the other side of the playing field. When we were younger, Gregory and I used to chase the ducks around in the grass and make them fly up. “What do you say, Gregory? I'll take him off your hands.”

Just then, Tina appeared. She was carrying an armful of
papers for a play she was directing called
The Day the School Burned Down
. Gregory held the papers while she adjusted the straps of her knapsack. He was always a little shy around Tina and looked at her shoes a lot. I sniffed them. Good smell there.

Ron smoothed his hair. He was so arrogant. “Hey, Tina, how's my girlfriend doing?”

“How many times do I have to tell you I'm not your girlfriend?” She took the papers from Gregory. “You going to try out for the play, Gregory? I need a school principal.”

“I never acted,” Gregory said shyly.

“I think you'd be perfect,” Tina said.

Ron pounded Gregory on the head with a book and sent Gregory staggering. “He'd be perfect as the town drunk.”

I backed up, growling.

“Oh, Gregory.” Tina caught him and held him steady. “Are you all right?”

Ron grabbed me by the ears and flipped me over, but Gregory caught me before I hit the ground.

He held me in his arms. “I don't want you to do that again, Ron,” he said.

I snarled at Ron. He smiled. “We were just playing around, weren't we, Einstein?”

7
■
That night Gregory didn't sleep.
He kept talking to me. “Danny Russell wasn't at practice today, and Dreyfus looked dead on the court. He's sick; he can't keep
his head up hardly. If Dreyfus can't play tomorrow, then it's me.” He moaned. “What if I lose the game for us? Dad is going to be there. What am I going to do, Einstein?”

I tried to calm him down. I licked his arms. I lay on his chest and put my nose up against his cheek. That always worked. But not tonight.

“Poor Dad.” He was panicking. “He's going to see me flub in front of the whole world. Everybody's going to be there. Maybe he'll get sick, Einstein, and he won't come. No, Dad never gets sick. Maybe
I'll
get sick. I'm sick now.”

He started to shiver. He pulled the blankets around him. His teeth chattered, his voice shook. I lay close to him on the pillow. I wanted him to sleep, but his eyes kept popping open. “Einstein, I want to sleep and never wake up,” he said.

8
■
I was running.
Flat-out running, like nothing could ever stop me. A great, rolling, velvety feeling. The wind chilling my eyes, my ears flapping like banners.

I woke up, smelling bacon and coffee. It was morning and it was late. Light was coming in the window. I sat up and looked around for Gregory.

When I saw the other dog, I bared my teeth. I was the only dog allowed in this house. “Out! Out!” I barked.

My bark—there was something wrong with it. It was a hiccup, a burp of a bark. It wasn't my bark. It wasn't big and full, it didn't say, GET OUT OR I'LL TEAR YOUR HEAD OFF.

I lunged at the other dog. He knew he didn't belong
here. He lay on his back, tail tucked under him. I smelled submission. I saw terror in his eyes.

I stood over him. I was going to chew him to pieces. I looked down and saw my legs. My legs? Were those my legs? Those long, hairless, skinny things? Those pale sticks?

Someone had skinned me down to nothing.

There was something wrong with my back legs, too. Something wrong with all of me.

Then I saw Gregory—in the mirror. He was standing there, naked except for a dog collar around his neck. I barked at him to get going and get dressed. But when I turned around, I didn't see him.

That dog—the other dog—had climbed up on the chair. He was peering at me. There was something awfully familiar about him. About the eyes. They were Gregory's eyes. That was when I got scared, because I couldn't believe what I was thinking. I tried to dive under the bureau but I bashed my head. I was too big or the bureau was too small; I couldn't get under it the way I always did. Blood dripped from my head and fell on my paw. But there was no paw. When I looked, I saw a hand. I saw five separate fingers. I saw Gregory's hand.

The other dog started barking. A real dog's bark.
My
bark!

I fled under the bed and licked the blood from my fingers. They smelled like Gregory.

I lay there breathing hard. I examined my hand. I made the fingers wriggle. I made a fist and opened it. Gregory's fingers. Gregory's hand.

I was Gregory. I was me, Einstein, but I was in Gregory's body.

And that dog with Gregory's eyes? He was Gregory in my body.

He crept close to me. He put a paw on my arm and brought his nose close to mine, making sounds, the way I did when I wanted to tell Gregory something. I could almost hear him say, What do we do now, Einstein?

9
■
“Gregory, will you please keep
that dog quiet.” Mom opened the door. “Aren't you ready for school yet? What are you doing under the bed, honey? Stop playing and leave Einstein alone.”

I waited until she closed the door, then I stood up. I wasn't used to being up this high, being up on my hind legs. I kept wanting to get down close to the floor and sniff around.

Gregory was acting crazy. He kept leaping into the air and barking and looking into my face. I finally got it. He was telling me to look at the clock. It was a school day.

“No, I'm not going.” I didn't know exactly how it was happening, but I was speaking. My breath and tongue were doing it. There was a tickling in my mouth and words were coming out.

Gregory was in the closet, tugging at clothes. He brought me a shirt, then dragged a pair of jeans to me, and I put them on. Why were clothes invented, when skin and hair are so perfect? I couldn't feel the light or the air on my body. I hated the sneakers. It was like standing in boxes.

Mom and Dad were both in the kitchen. “You've got your shirt on backward, honey.” Mom put down her cup of coffee.

I circled the room several times. I kept glancing at my empty dish in the corner.

Dad looked up. “Is that dog collar a new fashion?”

“I don't like it,” Mom said. She ran her hand through my hair. “Your hair's a mess. Get me your brush.”

I started to go back, but Gregory was ahead of me. He raced upstairs and returned with the hairbrush in his mouth.

“What a bright dog,” Mom said.

“If you ever had any doubt,” Dad said.

“I—he—Einstein understands everything,” I said, adding, “he always did.”

“Stop running around the room, Gregory,” Dad said. “You're going to be late for school. Sit down, kiddo.”

Gregory jumped up on my chair and put his paws on the table.

“Einstein,” Mom said. “That's cute, but you don't belong here. Get down.” She filled my food dish with kibble and put it down on the floor. “Over here, Einstein.”

“I—he can stay at the table,” I said. “He's part of the family, too, Mom.”

She handed me a plate of eggs and potatoes, and while I was trying to figure out how to use the fork, Gregory got his nose into the plate and ate half of it. I pushed him aside. “My food,” I growled.

Dad drove us to school. I had Gregory on my lap. I wasn't going to school without him. When Dad wanted to know why Einstein was in the car, I said this was “Bring Your Pet to School” day. Gregory sat and stared out the window, the way I used to. I always loved to ride in cars. He seemed to have the feeling of being a dog, but things weren't going as well for me. I had to resist the urge to stick my head out the window or lean over and lick Dad's face. I had to keep reminding myself that I was a boy now.

“Tonight's the night,” Dad said. “You ready for the game?”

The game! “Uh, sure,” I said. Everybody was going to think that it was Gregory on the team. Gregory on the floor playing. Only it was going to be me, Einstein, the dog. And what did I know about playing basketball? Was that something a serious dog was expected to do? Gregory, who had been so worried about playing, didn't look worried now. He was the dog and I was the boy. The game was my problem. I'd swear he was smiling.

10
■
I put Gregory into the
knapsack. It was a squeeze, and he kept squirming and I told him to keep still. “I know it's tight in there, but I'm not going in that school alone. And don't poke your head out, either, or we'll both end up in the principal's office.”

There were a couple of holes in the side of the knapsack where he could look out and nudge me one way or the other through the corridors.

I met Tina in the hall and stopped. “Hi, Tina.”

“Ready for the big game tonight?” she said. She clapped her hands and did a couple of cheerleading moves, ending with a leap in the air. I'd never realized how cute and lively she was. Maybe it was being up this high that made me really appreciate her. Her hair smelled fantastic. I kept wanting to sniff it.

Gregory was wriggling in the knapsack. “Look,” I said to Tina, and gave her a peek.

“Oh, Einstein, you're in school! You cute, clever little dog. You like it here?”

Ron Rat, in all his smelly cologne, came strolling over, smiling at Tina. I just got the knapsack closed in time. “Tina, you going to sit with me at the game tonight?” Ron said.

“I'm cheerleading,” she said coolly. Then the first bell rang and she went off.

Ron turned to me. “How's our star basketball player?” He showed his teeth in what was supposed to be a smile. “All set to lose the game?”

“You're the one who knows how to do that, ratface.”

His eyes opened and his ears turned red. He thought he was talking to Gregory who was always so polite. He went for me, but I was ready. I stepped aside and ducked into my classroom.

School was not easy. Now I appreciated what Gregory had to go through every day. Sit. Sit. Sit. Then sit some more. Listen to Mrs. Tannenbaum talk, talk, and talk. And then listen some more.

The knapsack was on the floor between my legs. Gregory kept squirming and turning and popping his head up, like he wanted to tell Mrs. Tannenbaum and everybody who he really was. But he couldn't tell anyone anything.

At least I could talk. I could see that it was easier for me, who never talked before, to be a boy, than for him, who talked all the time, to be a dog.

The girl next to me saw Gregory and laughed. “Look at the dog—,” she began.

I put my hand over her mouth.

She shoved me away. “Mrs. Tannenbaum! Gregory put his smelly hand on me.”

“We don't use our hands that way, Gregory,” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “Stand up and apologize.”

“Sorry,” I said, getting to my feet and stretching my arms. I still wasn't used to this body.

“Sorry? Is that all?” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “I think you can say a few more words.”

I shook my head. I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Mrs. Tannenbaum sighed. “I know you've got an important game on your mind, but I want you to remember, Gregory, school is important, too. All right, sit down.”

I forgot how big I was and how much I weighed and how hard I could sit. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor and the seat was broken.

“Gregory!” Mrs. Tannenbaum said. “What a way to behave. I'm sorry that you're like this today.” And then she sent me to the office.

In the principal's office I had to sit and wait for the second principal in charge of discipline. I had the knapsack next to me. Gregory peered at me reproachfully from under the flap. “Okay, I'm sorry about the seat,” I whispered.

Every time the bell rang, kids looked in. “What happened, Oshun?” After a while, it seemed like everyone in school knew that Oshun was sitting in the office. Only now they were saying Oshun had gone berserk and punched Mrs. Tannenbaum, and was in the office, handcuffed to a radiator.

Gregory reached out and pawed me. “What?” I snapped. He kept pawing me. “What are you saying? You don't know the problems I'm having being you. You got it good.”

He ducked down again then. I felt sorry. He was doing his best too. I sat with my hand in the knapsack, stroking his head. He was a good boy at heart. I mean, dog.

When I finally got in to see the second principal, she hardly said a word about the broken seat. All she wanted to know was if I was ready for the game tonight. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Are we going to win?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She put her hand to her ear. “Are we going to win?”

“Yes, ma'am!” I barked.

“Now you're talking.”

11
■
At lunch, the woman behind
the counter told
me to stop sniffing the sandwiches. “Take what you want, and move on.” I bought milk and sandwiches for Gregory and me. At the checkout I had a little trouble with the money so I threw it all down and got hollered at again.