working.” Her eyelashes flutter, and she makes a deep growling sound in her chest.
Droopy dashes off down the hall, and I wonder if this is why he has been so jumpy, because of Toni’s growling.
“You’re troubled. You don’t have faith in yourself. You must get in touch with the hidden you.”
“The hidden me?”
“You must get in touch with your inner strength. You have to meditate.”
“Meditate? How?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. You need a special meditation stone, one that you discover on your own, in the natural world.”
I stare at her necklace. “What about … seaglass?”
Her eyes brighten. “Ah, yes! Beach glass, mermaid’s tears, lucky tears—glass that washes up on the beach, smoothed by sand and sea. The best seaglass is round, clear blue, and very rare, but you can settle for amber or green.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Every morning, sit cross-legged and breathe deeply. Gaze into the seaglass, then close your eyes and be still and silent, preferably with a friend to help you. Let go and relax.”
“And then what?”
“Quiet, patience. Open your mind. The seaglass provides a window to your inner self.” She takes a deep breath, and glances at her watch. “Oops, well, that’s allfor today. I have to feed the fur babies and give them their meds.”
“My uncle has seaglass in the daisy garden at his clinic.”
“You must discover your own specimen—pristine, untouched.”
I know just where I’ll search in the morning. Witless Cove Beach, here I come.
Chapter Thirteen
HIT AND RUN
F ifteen minutes later, when Uncle Sanjay, Stu, and I are back at the cabin, the telephone rings. The sound echoes through the house. Uncle Sanjay answers and listens. “Slow down, Harv,” he says in his
I’m hypnotizing you into calmness
voice. “What happened? Yes? Oh no!” He nods, shakes his head. “Bring Bremolo in right away.”
Uncle Sanjay hangs up, makes another quick call. “Duff, meet me at the clinic. Now.” He runs out to the truck. I dash after him, carrying his keys. He’s patting hispockets, looking for them. Stu lopes out after us and jumps around, waiting to get into the truck.
“Stu, you stay,” Uncle Sanjay says, pointing at the door.
Stu’s tail instantly drops between his legs.
“I want to come with you,” I say.
“Hurry, then—put Stu in the house. Just this time, so he doesn’t get in the way.”
Stu is not happy to be locked inside. I hope he’ll be okay. Uncle Sanjay is quiet and tense during the drive. The sun is setting, sending fingers of red across a bright blue sky. The air hangs thick and still.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Bremolo was hit by a car. Usually, I send people to the emergency clinic up in Freetown after hours, but Harvey and Bremolo are my friends, and Harvey sounded so desperate.”
When we get to the clinic, a round man is standing on the doorstep, carrying a white poodle speckled with blood. The man is shaking, and when we get out of the car, I see he’s crying. “He ran right out in the road. I couldn’t stop him.”
Uncle Sanjay slides the key into the lock and opens the door. I’m shaking, and Harvey is shaking, but Uncle Sanjay is calm, like a lake without wind.
Inside the clinic, he turns on the lights. Then he carries the poodle into the surgery room and shuts the door.
A moment later, Duff rushes in. She looks different without her blue scrubs on—younger and softer in jeans and a T-shirt that says
PET ME
. She hugs the round man. “Harvey, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Bremolo. You wait here. You too, Poppy.”
Harvey and I are standing in the waiting room. Blood stains his hands; dark red droplets on the ground lead back to the surgery room. My throat tightens.
“The bathroom is that way,” I tell him. I point down the hall.
He comes back with clean hands, and I sit beside him.
He speaks in a rough voice full of tears. “I don’t let him out on his own, but he likes to chase
Droopy dashes off down the hall, and I wonder if this is why he has been so jumpy, because of Toni’s growling.
“You’re troubled. You don’t have faith in yourself. You must get in touch with the hidden you.”
“The hidden me?”
“You must get in touch with your inner strength. You have to meditate.”
“Meditate? How?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. You need a special meditation stone, one that you discover on your own, in the natural world.”
I stare at her necklace. “What about … seaglass?”
Her eyes brighten. “Ah, yes! Beach glass, mermaid’s tears, lucky tears—glass that washes up on the beach, smoothed by sand and sea. The best seaglass is round, clear blue, and very rare, but you can settle for amber or green.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Every morning, sit cross-legged and breathe deeply. Gaze into the seaglass, then close your eyes and be still and silent, preferably with a friend to help you. Let go and relax.”
“And then what?”
“Quiet, patience. Open your mind. The seaglass provides a window to your inner self.” She takes a deep breath, and glances at her watch. “Oops, well, that’s allfor today. I have to feed the fur babies and give them their meds.”
“My uncle has seaglass in the daisy garden at his clinic.”
“You must discover your own specimen—pristine, untouched.”
I know just where I’ll search in the morning. Witless Cove Beach, here I come.
Chapter Thirteen
HIT AND RUN
F ifteen minutes later, when Uncle Sanjay, Stu, and I are back at the cabin, the telephone rings. The sound echoes through the house. Uncle Sanjay answers and listens. “Slow down, Harv,” he says in his
I’m hypnotizing you into calmness
voice. “What happened? Yes? Oh no!” He nods, shakes his head. “Bring Bremolo in right away.”
Uncle Sanjay hangs up, makes another quick call. “Duff, meet me at the clinic. Now.” He runs out to the truck. I dash after him, carrying his keys. He’s patting hispockets, looking for them. Stu lopes out after us and jumps around, waiting to get into the truck.
“Stu, you stay,” Uncle Sanjay says, pointing at the door.
Stu’s tail instantly drops between his legs.
“I want to come with you,” I say.
“Hurry, then—put Stu in the house. Just this time, so he doesn’t get in the way.”
Stu is not happy to be locked inside. I hope he’ll be okay. Uncle Sanjay is quiet and tense during the drive. The sun is setting, sending fingers of red across a bright blue sky. The air hangs thick and still.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Bremolo was hit by a car. Usually, I send people to the emergency clinic up in Freetown after hours, but Harvey and Bremolo are my friends, and Harvey sounded so desperate.”
When we get to the clinic, a round man is standing on the doorstep, carrying a white poodle speckled with blood. The man is shaking, and when we get out of the car, I see he’s crying. “He ran right out in the road. I couldn’t stop him.”
Uncle Sanjay slides the key into the lock and opens the door. I’m shaking, and Harvey is shaking, but Uncle Sanjay is calm, like a lake without wind.
Inside the clinic, he turns on the lights. Then he carries the poodle into the surgery room and shuts the door.
A moment later, Duff rushes in. She looks different without her blue scrubs on—younger and softer in jeans and a T-shirt that says
PET ME
. She hugs the round man. “Harvey, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Bremolo. You wait here. You too, Poppy.”
Harvey and I are standing in the waiting room. Blood stains his hands; dark red droplets on the ground lead back to the surgery room. My throat tightens.
“The bathroom is that way,” I tell him. I point down the hall.
He comes back with clean hands, and I sit beside him.
He speaks in a rough voice full of tears. “I don’t let him out on his own, but he likes to chase
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