Wild Life by Cynthia DeFelice

unlace his boots when his gaze fell on Erik and the dog. He jerked upright, as if he’d just been stuck by a porcupine, and stared.
    After what felt to Erik like a very long time, Big Darrell asked, “What’s that dog doing in here?” His deep voice sounded to Erik like a growl.
    Erik stood up. Quill stirred and rose to her feet, too. With her stubby tail wagging, she approached Big Darrell. He ignored her.
    Oma jumped up from her seat in front of the TV and started to say, “Darrell, it’s only for—”
    But Big Darrell cut her off. “Didn’t I say no more dogs?”
    Erik couldn’t help himself. “But that was a long time ago!”
    Big Darrell’s face froze. He stiffened, and for a moment no one moved. He turned slowly to Erik and said deliberately, “What do you know about what happened here a long time ago?”
    Erik, taken aback by the coldness in Big Darrell’s gaze, stammered, “N-nothing. I—”
    â€œThat’s right. Nothing. Remember that.” He turned back to Oma, who looked every bit as frightened as Erik felt. Erik could hardly bear looking at her, wringing her hands and blinking with anxiety.
    â€œBut, Darrell, I—” Oma began.
    Big Darrell interrupted. “Didn’t I say no more dogs ?”
    â€œYes, but let me ex—”
    â€œThere’s nothing to explain,” Big Darrell said flatly. “The dog goes.”
    â€œIt’s not Oma’s fault!” Erik shouted. “The dog’s face was all full of porcupine quills and she couldn’t eat or anything. She needed help, and Dr. Bob came—”
    Big Darrell’s eyes narrowed at this, and Erik hurried to add, “He didn’t even charge us anything because he’s a nice guy and he just wanted to help her.”
    Not like you. The unspoken words hung in the air. If Big Darrell sensed them, he showed no sign.
    â€œQuill, come,” Erik said. He couldn’t stand watching her standing at Big Darrell’s feet, wagging her tail and sniffing his boots, waiting for a pat that wasn’t going to come. When she returned to stand beside him, Erik reached down to rub her head. Then he stepped forward, placing himself between Quill and Big Darrell.
    He tried to keep his voice even, although his hands were shaking and his heart was drumming a jerky rhythm in his chest. “Oma told me you said no more dogs. It’s only until Dr. Bob finds the owner. And I’ve got money. If there’s any charge, I’ll pay for everything.”
    There was silence for a while. Finally, Big Darrell heaved an angry sigh and said, “It’s too late to do anything with it tonight. It can stay until tomorrow. No longer.”
    â€œOh, Darrell, that’s wonderful. Isn’t it, Erik?” Oma asked softly.
    Erik didn’t answer. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth he’d say what he was thinking, which was that there was no way he was going to thank Big Darrell and act all grateful because the man had said Quill could stay one lousy night in his lousy house.
    He and Big Darrell continued to stare at each other. Finally Big Darrell spoke. “You called it a name.”
    â€œ Her , not it .”
    Big Darrell said impatiently, “How did you know its name?”
    â€œI just made it up,” Erik answered, wondering what the man was getting at.
    Big Darrell shook his head slowly, a disgusted expression on his face. Erik had to force himself not to look away from the man’s icy blue gaze.
    â€œNo sense in giving a name to what’s not yours to keep,” Big Darrell muttered. “Now take that mutt out to the barn.”
    â€œIf she’s sleeping in the barn, then I am, too,” Erik answered.
    â€œOh, Erik—” Oma began, looking distressed.
    But Big Darrell interrupted, saying, “Suit yourself.” He went into the kitchen, where he sat down and began to silently eat his