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Matty caught the scent of Gretchen before he heard her. Her doggie tang laced the night air. |
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She was the Starkeys' German shepherd on Hutchinson Road that angled off from Jason on the other side of Magog Woods. They always put her out at this time of night. Because the woods were quiet, her barking carried like gunfire. And it would continue until they pulled her in at ten-thirty when the news was over. Then, at the crack of dawn, she'd be out again, barking her brains out. |
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Matty knew his father hated that dog. He said he didn't understand how the Starkeys could be so "bloody inconsiderate." |
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Matty didn't like Gretchen either, but not because of the barking. She was mean. He was glad they kept her chained to a tree because she growled and tried to get at him whenever he walked by. Not the other kids. Just him. |
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Matty walked up the driveway from the street. Dr. Tojian had given him a ride home. Every night after a game he would select four of five kids and work on their fielding or hitting for maybe a half-hour. Then, before driving them home, he'd take them to the center for ice cream. Tonight, under the lights, he worked with Matty on his swing. He said it was strong but wild. He didn't have to try to kill the ball every time. |
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It was a little before nine when Matty was dropped off. With his glove and water bottle, he headed in the dark toward the house. He wasn't thinking about Mitch or baseball or the physical exam or the magnetic whatever tests he had to undergo. He was thinking about Gretchen . . . more than thinking, like he was feeling her. |
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He went around the back of the house and waited until Dr. Tojian |
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