Nobody's Dog by Ria Voros Page A

behind a hedge. The car moves in slow motion, ridingalong the curb behind Chilko, and he doesn’t notice, just keeps on sniffing. I hope the hedge hides me enough, then call him loudly, but the cop is getting out of the car and Chilko’s seen him. He thinks the cop’s friendly.
    I hold my breath as the cop leans down and pets Chilko, gets a tail-wag. Then he grabs Chilko’s collar and looks at the tag — pulls out his phone and starts dialling.
    I don’t think — just scramble out of the hedge and make as much noise as I can, waving my hands and calling Chilko’s name. He strains at the cop’s grip, and the cop is surprised enough to let go.
    â€œHey — is that your dog? Wait!” he yells, starting to run after Chilko. “Do you live here? Stop!”
    I don’t stop. Chilko reaches me and we sprint together down the sidewalk, turn the corner, not looking back. I hear the cop rev his engine and drive after us, but we take a left and double back into an alley. I scan the dumpsters and parked cars for a place to hide. Chilko runs ahead, loving the game. “In here,” I tell him, and we duck into a garage that stinks like pee and rotten food. My hand touches something sticky.
    Tires crunch gravel as the cop car slowly drives past us. The guy’s on the radio, answering a crackling voice. I press myself into the concrete and try not to think about the sticky stuff I’m covered in. Chilko shifts beside me, his ears forward. I reach for his shoulder in case I need to hold him back. Touching his fur makes everything a little less crazy.
    Suddenly blue and red lights flash into the garage — blue-red, blue-red — and then the tires squeal and the cop car spins out of the alley, turning on its siren as it takes the corner. Chilko moans, then breaks into a howl as the siren fades.
    â€œBad timing,” I whisper, waving my hand in his face. “We’re trying to hide here.”
    He closes his mouth, swallowing the sound, then gets up to explore the garage.
    I sit in my sticky spot for a few minutes, just trying to breathe normally as Chilko sniffs around the dumpsters.
    I step out and look at my hand — brown goopy slime coats it. I can’t bring myself to smell it, but from here it looks like nothing I want on my body. Got to find some grass to wipe it on.
    When my hand is mostly clean, I straighten up and look around. The neighbourhood is quiet. I strain to listen for a far-off siren, anything. We’re alone. We got away.
    J rises up, filling my head with his roar. I jump in the air, making Chilko bounce on his feet, not sure what kind of game this is. We escaped a cop. It was
so close
. Grant won’t believe me when I tell him. I’m too excited to think about a plan, so we walk farther from the alley and I try to take deep breaths. My hands shake so much I have to put them in my pockets. Chilko trots along like nothing happened. Just another adventure.
    I replay the whole scene over and over and by the time I check the next street sign, I realize we’re far from where I thought we were. Cygnet Street. The name sounds familiar but I don’t know why. Big, dark houses. Lines of parked cars. I look up to find Sirius, and it’s in the same spot, as if we haven’t moved at all. The sky’s so big that we basically haven’t.
    Something’s nudging me about the street name. Cygnet. I close my eyes.
That’s a constellation, Jakob
. My dad’s voice pulls me back. I’m in the car, he’s driving, Mom’s in the passenger seat. We’re going on Christmas vacation.
Cygnusis the swan
, Dad said as he turned this corner, on this exact street.
It’s easier to see in the summer. We can look for it when we go camping in July
. I wasn’t really listening — I’d heard it all before. He said it had another name too, something about a cross. I stare at the street sign, then