Solomon's Collie

Solomon’s Collie

Solomon stole my Gameboy. I know because of this. Before Solomon came to my house, I had my Gameboy, and after he left, it was gone. I also know because he is from Columbia Heights, and all the boys from Columbia Heights are thieves. One of them stole the new gloves out of my coat pocket at school. I saw him wearing them. He is a friend of Solomon and the two of them are thieves together. I am not from Columbia Heights. I live on the border between Columbia Heights and St. Anthony, but I am on the St. Anthony side and I am not a thief. Mom thinks I lost it.

You’re so careless! Mom said. You don’t care about the things I buy you!

She means the gloves and my soccer shin guards and my roller skates because I lost them all, except the gloves, which were stolen. But it is not true that I do not care, only that I cannot keep it in my head where I put things down. It is no use arguing with parents over these things, though, because they have already decided they are true.

Solomon always makes noises in class. Like moaning like a girl or flicking his cheek so it goes ‘pop’. Once he called me a terrible word and I hit him and I got suspended and he did not. How is that fair? I only hit him because he made me so upset. If he had not made me so upset I would not have hit him. I only had Solomon over in the first place because Mom said I should.

I am not careless, I told Mom. Solomon stole it.

She said, let it go.

Mom does not want to admit it is partly her fault. She plays it like it is not a big deal, but it is a big deal. He stole it. And my Legend of Zelda Phantom Hourglass cartridge was inside.

I know where Solomon lives because I rode with Mom when we dropped him home. He was very rude all the way. He told Mom he did not like the music she played, and he did not even say thank you before he got out of the car. Solomon has no manners. But Mom did not tell him off like she would have me, she just waved him goodbye and watched and made sure he got in alright.

Solomon has very very blue eyes and very red hair. Girls are soft to boys if the boy is cute enough, even if the boy does something stupid like tug on her hair or not let her play kickball. They do not mind these things if the boy is cute. I used to think people grew out of this sort of silly thing but now I do not. Grown up women are soft on boys like that, too. Even the teachers are soft on him. If Solomon looked like me he would not have everything so easy. People would get mad at him a lot more, that is all I will say.

Solomon lives in a yellow two story house on Hayes. The yard is all weeds and sometimes there is a dog outside when you drive past and sometimes he is on a leash, but most of the time he is not. I think he is a collie, or some kind of dog.

Solomon’s collie is like Solomon because it is loud and always barks at you, and everyone always says what a cute dog, but if it was a pittie, like the dog I used to have, they would not say what a cute dog, they would say put that dog on a leash. And my dog was well trained. It only ever bit one person and it was not his fault. He only did it because he was scared. But people do not mind a thing like that when a dog is ugly, they say he is aggressive, so they put him down anyway.

Solomon’s collie is outside, and when it sees me, it barks barks barks. Even though it is on its leash, I still do not want to walk up to the front door. I have been bitten by a dog before and since then I respect them but wish they would not get too close.

So instead I walk around to the door on the side of the house where the screen door is flap flapping in the wind so it goes crash! Creeeak, crash! The windows are all dark and most of them have blinds, only one upstairs has a blanket with Spiderman hanging behind the glass. But someone is home because there is a jeep in the driveway. Its front bumper is held on by duct tape and zip ties like it is not a real car at all. Trash.

I knock. I wait. I knock again. I wait again. I knock, and the door opens only a little bit. The chain stretches. An eye peeks through and looks around, then it looks down. It is a very dark eye, and it is smudged all around with dark makeup like smoke.

What’d’ya want? the eye asks me.

Is Solomon home? I ask. The eye looks up at the sky, or maybe the ceiling, and then back down at me.

He’s in his room.

Can I talk to him?

The door closes and I hear the chain clink and then the door opens. She stands with her hands on her hips.

Her skin is stretched too tight, and it is too shiny, like melting butter, and her nose is very skinny with hardly any nostrils at all. Her hair is long and the green of oak tree leaves, and she wears a green cap and a green shirt with sleeves all down to her fingers. She is a frog. I am afraid she will stick out her frog tongue and gobble me up. I do not look at her dark eyes, I look out over the yard and at the collie and it goes bark bark bark.

Who’re you? she asks.

I go to school with him, I say. He took something of mine.

Are you saying Sal stole something? Sal didn’t steal anything.

I do not like to argue with grown ups because I never win. But I know I am in the right. I explain to her, I think he took my Gameboy when he came over. Maybe he only meant to borrow it but I’d like it back.

You probably lost it, she says. Sal isn’t a thief. You should go home, talk to him at school.

Do you see what I mean? Parents decide these things are true. But I say okay and I walk back down the driveway and when I turn around the door is closed and the screen door is going creeeak crash and the collie is going bark bark bark.

But the next day Solomon is not at school. I look for him at recess and I watch the bus pick ups and I watch all the kids get on, and he is not with them. The frog woman told him, I expect. That I came around asking for him, and he got scared and played sick to stay home. He is all bark and no bite.

Even though it is cold I walk back to Solomon’s and the sun is already setting so the house is gray, not yellow. The sun sets early now. It is very cold and I wish I had my gloves and the snow crunches under my boots and my jeans are cold so I have to waddle so they do not touch my thighs and my teeth chatter chatter all the way.

The collie is outside only he is not barking. He is on the front porch and he paws at the door. Even dogs get cold in Minnesota. Even the ones with long hair. I walk up the yard to the front porch and the collie looks at me and he does not bark, he whines. He shrinks away. He is all bark and no bite. I knock on the door.

Hello! I say. Your dog is cold! Can you open the door please? Hello? Can you open the door?

I knock again and again, but no one answers. I try the door handle. It swings open. I know it is rude to go into someone else’s house but I let the collie inside.

Mom uses vinegar to clean the counters at home. Solomon’s house smells like this, but it does not look like it has been cleaned in a long time. There is a lot of stuff all over the living room all piled up so you cannot see much of the dining table or the walls and the walls you can see are splooged over like someone fixed cracks and never painted them.

The collie runs to the couch and jumps up and I feel a terrible jump in my heart when I see there is someone on the couch. The frog woman lays on her side with her arm out. She looks dead, only she is breathing. She wears a green shirt with long sleeves down to her fingers. Her green cap is on the floor. Her green hair does not fit on her head, it is like a hat. I think, she will wake up and yell at me. But she does not. Not even when the collie licks her, she only rolls over. I just stand there for a while but she does not wake up. There is a creepy feeling all over me. I can hear everything.

There are stairs at the back of the house. More stuff piles every step like clothes and shoes and papers and boxes and a toaster and I cannot keep track of all the trash. It smells. It is cold. It gets colder when you walk upstairs, like you are walking the wrong way into hell.

There is a hallway. It leads to two doors. The left has SAL in big wooden letters. Downstairs I hear creeeak, crash. And I think, maybe it would be better if I did lose my Gameboy. I am not feeling so brave. But there is music behind the SAL door, and I listen. And I know it. It is the music from Phantom Hourglass.

It is not true. I am not careless, and here is the proof. I grab the doorknob to throw it open, I will hit him, but the door does not open. I look down. There is a bolt on the outside of the door. The kind of sliding bolt on gates so dogs do not get out. The kind we had on our gate so our pittie would not run away. The music stops.

Mom? Solomon’s voice asks from behind the SAL door. Mom? Can you open the door? Can you open the door please, mom? Mom?

I look at the bolt. It shakes in its socket when he tries to open the door.

Mom? Please open the door. Mom? Mom? I’m cold.

I run. Downstairs. Out the door. The screen goes creeeak, crash! and behind me the collie has found its voice and goes bark bark bark.