shoulder.
“What’s that red skateboard thing over by your shed?” I ask.
“Is that what that noise was earlier?” she responds.
“Stupid thing shot out from underneath me,” I say.
She laughs. “I wish I could have seen that.” She walks over to the shed and picks it up. She brushes some mud off it and then lays it back onto the ground where I had my spill.
“What is it?” I ask again.
“I’ll show you.” She opens the shed door and pulls out a matching red rod. It is shaped like a T with two hoops coming off the handles. She pushes it into the hole and it locks into place.
“I get it. It’s like a scooter,” I say. “You hold on to the handles and kick the ground to get going.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Not even close. I call it the ‘Hound-ariot.’ ”
I scrunch my brow. “The what?”
“The Hound-ariot. It’s like a chariot but for our hellhounds. Watch,” she says and then uses her fingernail to tug open a secret compartment on the handle. She pulls out a whistle and brings it to her lips. She blows, but there isn’t a sound. She blows again.
“I guess it’s broken,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
Suddenly a wiener dog leaps over the six-foot-tall fence into Mal’s yard. The wiener dog is shortly followed by a poodle that whips around the side of the house into the yard. They both gallop to Mal’s feet. Now, remember, hellhounds appear as cute little doggies to you shorties. But to us, they are quite a bit more—dare I say—gruesome.
“You two will do,” Mal says. She then tugs on the end of the Hound-ariot’s handle and yanks off one of the hoops. A thin chain is attached to it, and she walks it over to the wiener dog. The chain extends from the handle to the hoop. She takes the hoop and carefully places it over the wiener dog’s head until it is securely fastened around his neck. She then takes the other hoop off and does the same thing with the poodle.
“This doesn’t actually work, does it?” I say with a bit of a chuckle.
She makes a face at me. “Watch and see, buddy.” She steps onto the board, puts one hand on the handle, and then calls out in a loud, clear voice. “Once around the house.” She then blows on her whistle.
In an instant the poodle and wiener dog leap into action and rocket from their spot. Mal is jerked forward, and she and the Hound-ariot take off in a cloud of dust. She has whipped around the house and is back to where I am standing within a few seconds.
My jaw drops open.
“That’s amazing! Let me try!” I yell, jumping up and down like a toddler at Christmas.
“Later. We’ve gotta go.”
“Oh come on! One time!” I plead.
“Nope, my dad doesn’t want anyone else riding it until we get it cleared with the Ethical Treatment of Hellhounds Office.”
My shoulders drop and I feel like throwing a tantrum, but I contain my disappointment. “Fine, but as soon as you do, I want to ride it,” I say.
She smiles and puts the Hound-ariot back into the shed. I watch longingly as the wiener dog and poodle take off back to their homes.
About fifteen minutes later, we’re heading down the street for the playing field. The contents of Mal’s backpack jingle and clank with every step she takes.
“Why the backpack today, Mal?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It goes where I go. You never know when you might need something,” Mal says, throwing it over her other shoulder. “So you feeling pretty sure that decoy is going to fool your parents?”
“Oh yeah, you should’ve seen it. Not a chance they’ll figure it out,” I say, tossing a skull up into the air and catching it. “So you really like the new roll?”
Mal makes an exasperated noise. “Yes. For the hundredth time, it’s great.”
I try to control it, but I can feel my smile spreading across my face. I toss the skull into the air again.
“But you’ve never faced someone as good as this halo girl before,” Mal says.
I glance over at her at just the
“What’s that red skateboard thing over by your shed?” I ask.
“Is that what that noise was earlier?” she responds.
“Stupid thing shot out from underneath me,” I say.
She laughs. “I wish I could have seen that.” She walks over to the shed and picks it up. She brushes some mud off it and then lays it back onto the ground where I had my spill.
“What is it?” I ask again.
“I’ll show you.” She opens the shed door and pulls out a matching red rod. It is shaped like a T with two hoops coming off the handles. She pushes it into the hole and it locks into place.
“I get it. It’s like a scooter,” I say. “You hold on to the handles and kick the ground to get going.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Not even close. I call it the ‘Hound-ariot.’ ”
I scrunch my brow. “The what?”
“The Hound-ariot. It’s like a chariot but for our hellhounds. Watch,” she says and then uses her fingernail to tug open a secret compartment on the handle. She pulls out a whistle and brings it to her lips. She blows, but there isn’t a sound. She blows again.
“I guess it’s broken,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
Suddenly a wiener dog leaps over the six-foot-tall fence into Mal’s yard. The wiener dog is shortly followed by a poodle that whips around the side of the house into the yard. They both gallop to Mal’s feet. Now, remember, hellhounds appear as cute little doggies to you shorties. But to us, they are quite a bit more—dare I say—gruesome.
“You two will do,” Mal says. She then tugs on the end of the Hound-ariot’s handle and yanks off one of the hoops. A thin chain is attached to it, and she walks it over to the wiener dog. The chain extends from the handle to the hoop. She takes the hoop and carefully places it over the wiener dog’s head until it is securely fastened around his neck. She then takes the other hoop off and does the same thing with the poodle.
“This doesn’t actually work, does it?” I say with a bit of a chuckle.
She makes a face at me. “Watch and see, buddy.” She steps onto the board, puts one hand on the handle, and then calls out in a loud, clear voice. “Once around the house.” She then blows on her whistle.
In an instant the poodle and wiener dog leap into action and rocket from their spot. Mal is jerked forward, and she and the Hound-ariot take off in a cloud of dust. She has whipped around the house and is back to where I am standing within a few seconds.
My jaw drops open.
“That’s amazing! Let me try!” I yell, jumping up and down like a toddler at Christmas.
“Later. We’ve gotta go.”
“Oh come on! One time!” I plead.
“Nope, my dad doesn’t want anyone else riding it until we get it cleared with the Ethical Treatment of Hellhounds Office.”
My shoulders drop and I feel like throwing a tantrum, but I contain my disappointment. “Fine, but as soon as you do, I want to ride it,” I say.
She smiles and puts the Hound-ariot back into the shed. I watch longingly as the wiener dog and poodle take off back to their homes.
About fifteen minutes later, we’re heading down the street for the playing field. The contents of Mal’s backpack jingle and clank with every step she takes.
“Why the backpack today, Mal?” I ask.
She shrugs. “It goes where I go. You never know when you might need something,” Mal says, throwing it over her other shoulder. “So you feeling pretty sure that decoy is going to fool your parents?”
“Oh yeah, you should’ve seen it. Not a chance they’ll figure it out,” I say, tossing a skull up into the air and catching it. “So you really like the new roll?”
Mal makes an exasperated noise. “Yes. For the hundredth time, it’s great.”
I try to control it, but I can feel my smile spreading across my face. I toss the skull into the air again.
“But you’ve never faced someone as good as this halo girl before,” Mal says.
I glance over at her at just the
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