Children's / To Katie from Max
To Katie from Max
Chapter 1
“He should have been home over an hour ago! Where is he?” I asked my mother.
I had been sitting impatiently on the front porch waiting for Dad’s old blue rusty truck to pull in the driveway. I had taken the cordless phone outside so that I could answer it if Dad called to give us any news.
The phone hadn’t rung all day long. Mom told me to take it as good news.
“No news is good news,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to comfort me.
She said it with a hopeful smile, but I could see that her eyes were crinkling, and her eyes always did that when she was worried about something. The last time I had seen her eyes do that was when Dad called home to say that he had lost his job about two months ago.
“Well get through it Katie,” she said. “Things will just have to tighten up around here. Don’t you worry at all.” She tried to look calm and reassuring, but Mom had always been a very bad liar.
I wasn’t sure if Mom was more worried about Max, or how much the vet bill was going to be to find out what was wrong with him and get him better. Thinking about this made me get more upset than I already was. It was always all about money lately. Yeah, Dad lost his job. I knew these were hard times. I’d heard the speech about a million times whenever I complained about not being able to go to a movie or roller skating with my friends. But this was completely different. Max was my dog. He was my best friend. Dad would eventually find another job, but there would never be another dog like Max, ever.
As I looked out on to our street I saw Simon, the boy who lived next door to me sitting in the middle of the road next to his dog Bo. He was sitting with his legs crossed stroking Bo’s ears and talking as if he had not seen him in years. The dog looked back at him and nodded as if he completely understood everything that Simon was saying.
“Why don’t you go over there and talk to Simon, Katie?” Mom suggested.
“Talk? To Simon?”
“Yeah, it will take your mind off things. You two can play with Bo, can’t you? It will give you something better to do then wait around here for Dad and Max and being all worried. Besides, he is a very nice boy.”
How would she know if he was a nice boy?, I thought to myself. Simon had lived next door to me and had been in my class for as long as I could remember and I had never heard him say one word. Not one. Ever.
At the beginning of every school year, the teacher would always have all of the students say their favorite food or favorite book, or talk about what they did over the summer, and every year Simon would stand up and just stare at his feet, frozen, like a statue. For a few weeks, the teacher would try every trick in the book to get him to talk, like she was going to be that special one that would make him do it. All of us who had been in class with Simon before would tell her that he was not going to talk, no matter what. But as usual, the teacher would know better than a bunch of kids. After trying stupid things like promising him extra recess, letting him choose where he wanted to sit, and then finally threatening to punish him, she would give up and let him just sit there and not talk.
For a long time, the teachers couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t say anything. Simon would sit in his desk and do all of his work. Last year, our teacher Mrs. Fillerman read the class one of his stories and it was really good. So he isn’t slow or anything. He is even in the gifted program at school.
He just doesn’t talk. Well, not to people.
But there he was talking about a mile a minute to Bo. It was the strangest thing.
“You know he has a problem honey.” Mom continued on, “it’s called Selective Mutism. We talked about it. He can only talk to people that he feels socially comfortable with.”
“So he’s only socially comfortable with dogs then?” I asked.
“Well, he does talk a lot to that dog of his. But he also talks to his parents too. I think that’s about it. Think about how lonely he must be.”
Mom had a point. I couldn’t imagine being so afraid that I couldn’t talk to anybody except my parents and dogs. And not all of the kids at school were so nice to him either. Most of them just ignored him. Some of the other kids, like Jimmy Naylor, would make fun of him, and call him stupid or retarded, even though Simon got better grades in school than they did.
I decided that it couldn’t hurt, and maybe it would take my mind off of my dad and Max and what was taking so long at the vet’s office. I sat up and walked slowly over to Simon and Bo. I kneeled down next to Bo and began scratching his ears. He did that funny thing that dogs do when they move their leg up and down when they are being scratched in a place that tickles them.
“Hi Simon,” I said.
I really didn’t expect him to say anything back, though I guess for a moment, I wanted to feel like I did something special to earn being talked too. In a way, Simon’s silence was a really powerful thing. He had all of these adults and teachers and doctors tearing their hair out trying to figure out what would make him talk. It once had occurred to me that maybe I should stop talking for a while just to see what would happen.
“Hi Simon, can I sit with you?” I asked.
He looked up and gave me a slight grin. I wouldn’t call it a smile. There were no teeth showing. His mouth just sort of made a funny shape like he was trying to smile but wasn’t quite sure how to do it. How could a nine-year-old boy who was supposed to be so smart not know how to smile?
I decided not to wait for an answer that wasn’t going to come and I sat down next to him. He didn’t get up and run, so I guessed that I was welcome to stay.
I rubbed Bo’s belly and he did that funny leg thing again and I laughed.
“Your dog looks really funny when he does that. Max does that too.”
Suddenly, I remembered why I had gone out to the street in the first place; to forget about Max.
“Max is at the vet. He has been really slow and tired lately and doesn’t want to eat anything. Does Bo ever do that?”
Simon did not answer my question, but I could tell that he was listening carefully, which was nice. I guess when you don’t talk, you become really good at listening to people.
“Dad should be home with Max soon. I really hope he is okay. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.”
I talked and talked about Max for about twenty minutes straight. And Simon listened. I don’t know who was more grateful, me for being able to talk about how I felt about Max, or Simon for having someone talk to him because to be honest, it really didn’t happen that often at school. His eyes looked like a little boy’s when he sees his shiny, new bike on Christmas morning. He was smiling with his eyes. I could just tell that he was happy. And I was happy.
And then Dad’s truck came into the drive, but Max wasn’t with him. I ran up into the house as quickly as I could, leaving Simon there alone with Bo, not even stopping to say goodbye.
“Hi honey. How are you Katie Bell?” he said as I ran through the door.
Dad had not called me Katie Bell in over a year.
“Where’s Max? What’s wrong? Why isn’t he with you? You said….”
I could feel a lump forming in the back of my throat. My eyes were beginning to well up with tears.
“It’s okay honey. The doctor wants to keep him overnight for observation. They are going to run some tests on him to see if they can find out what’s wrong.”
“So what does he think is wrong?” I asked.
Dad sighed, “Well….Katie. Let’s face it. Max is not a young pup anymore. He is fourteen. Dog’s just don’t live much…….” Dad’s voice became really soft. He was trying not to say that there was no real hope.
“So he’s going to die then. Is that what you are saying? Then why are we bothering even trying if he’s just going to die? It’s not like you are going to spend any money or anything and try to save him. That’s what this is really about. There is some medicine or surgery that could probably save him, but you won’t spend the money, right? Because we are poor now.”
“Katie! You know that isn’t true. How could you say something like that? Max is my dog too.” Dad looked really hurt, sort of how Joey Taylor looked after Jimmy Naylor kicked him in the stomach on the playground.
“He’s right Katie,” mom interrupted. “I know you are very upset and worried, but you owe your father an apology right now young lady!”
“Fine! I’M SORRY!,” I yelled at the top of my lungs so loud that Simon could probably hear me sitting with Bo on the street outside. I ran to my room and slammed the door shut as hard as I could. I flopped onto my bed and starting crying. I looked out my window and saw Simon still sitting there with Bo. He looked back at me and made that weird grin again.
That night I decided that Simon had the right idea being silent, so I didn’t talk to anyone for the rest of the night.
The next morning, I woke up with an ache in the bottom of my stomach. I had tossed and turned all night long and hardly gotten any sleep. Max usually slept at the foot of my bed. I never realized how comforting it was to have him there until he wasn’t there anymore.
I was also remembering what I had said to Dad and suddenly I realized that the ache in my stomach was not just from missing Max. It was a pang of guilt from what I had said. It wasn’t his fault that he lost his job. He had worked as a network administrator and the company laid off a whole bunch of its employees due to cutbacks.
My friend Rachel’s dad also worked there and he got laid off to, so it was nice to at least have someone else whose parents were also worried about money. Rachel’s mother however was a lawyer. Money wasn’t as big of an issue for her family. They might have to skip the trip to Europe this year, but they didn’t have to miss birthday parties like I did because my parents didn’t want to fork out the money to buy a birthday present, and it would look sort of silly if I showed up without a gift. My parents never told me I couldn’t go, but I didn’t want to be humiliated by being the only person without something to give.
My mom was a teacher who didn’t make the kind of money a lawyer would make. Even worse, she was a teacher at my school, so everyone knew about our situation. I would get these pitiful looks as I walked down the hall from the other teachers, like I was living in a homeless shelter or something. I mostly tried to ignore it, but then something would happen to remind me that we were now officially poor. Like the time I forgot my lunch money and I was in the lunch line and Jimmy (yes, the same Jimmy) started telling everyone to fork over their quarters because as he put it, “Katie’s family’s welfare check is late this month, and all of us who have parents who actually work for a living need to take care of her.” Okay, we weren’t as poor as people on the street, but to me it sure felt that way, especially with all of the kids staring at me.
I went to a private school, where most of the kids come from very wealthy families. I got to go there for free because of my mom. Otherwise, we probably couldn’t afford it, even with my dad’s paycheck. If I wasn’t the school charity case before, I was now. Why couldn’t I just go to public school where I would be more like everyone else? My mom said it was because Briarwood Elementary was one of the top private elementary schools in the state. One of the reasons that she had wanted to teach there was so that I could be away from the overcrowded public school system and have, as she put it “a top notch education.”
The other kids in my neighborhood went to Green Hills Elementary, the public school. Simon was the only other kid who went to Briarwood. His parents had gotten him a scholarship because of his whole speaking problem. The school would use him as a research subject, so he got to go for free too. We were always put in the same class because both of our parents had requested it due to carpooling reasons. They lumped the two charity cases together, I suppose.
Now more than ever, I wished I went to school with the other kids in my neighborhood. The other kids didn’t have nearly the amount of homework I did, not to mention the amount of pressure that we were put under by our teachers and parents. They were also not rich like the Briarwood kids, and not nearly as stuck up and spoiled.
If I went to Green Hills Elementary, nobody would have even noticed me. Nobody would have to know that my dad lost his job and that I had to quit ballet and that the last time my family did anything fun like go to the movies was forever ago.
But no matter what, I had something that those rich kids didn’t have; I had Max. My dad and I went to the pound when I was four-years-old looking for a puppy. Instead, I found myself drawn to Max and his big brown eyes and pointy ears that stood up straight like he was listening to something really amazing and important. He was already nine-years-old when we got him, but it didn’t matter to me. It was like Max and I both knew that we should be together. And we usually were.
We did everything together. If I went to Gina’s house down the street, he would usually go with me. If my family went to the park, Max would go too. About the only place he didn’t go with me was school, but if I could have found a way to sneak him in, I would have.
Usually, I would come home after school, sit on my bed, and do my homework. Max would jump up with his tail wagging back and forth and stick his nose between me and my school work so that I couldn’t ignore him. Then I would put my work to the side and let him curl up in my lap and he would lick my face and I would tell him about my day.
When I had a bad day, I would complain to Max and he would sit there and listen like he totally understood how I was feeling. Nobody paid attention to me or knew me like Max.
I was laying in my bed thinking about Max and thinking about the awful things I said to Dad. My stomach began to growl, so I decided it was time to get up and face him. I put on my bedroom slippers and walked carefully into the kitchen. Dad was there as usual looking through the want ads in the paper. He peeked over his paper when he saw me enter the kitchen.
“Hi Dad. Looking at the paper?” I asked. Duh, of course he was looking at the paper.
“Yeah, new jobs come out on Sunday. Maybe this week I’ll get lucky. How are you feeling Katie Bell?”
He was calling me Katie Bell again. This couldn’t be good.
“Listen, Dad, I’m really sorry about what I said. You know I didn’t mean it.”
“I know sweetheart. You’re worried about Max. We all are. And we’ve all been under a lot of stress these past few months. I know it hasn’t been easy, Katie. But you’ve been real good about understanding about our money problems. Once I get a job, everything will return to normal and we’ll all go do something really fun together instead of sitting around this house all the time.”
“I know Dad. But what about the vet bill? It will be so expensive? Can we afford it?”
“Well, to be honest, it will be tough. But I think old Max deserves it. We’ll find a way honey. Maybe we can make payments. Dr. Sawyer has done that for us before when Max had his leg surgery. Don’t worry. If there’s something we can do for Max, we’ll do it. I promise.”
I ran over to my dad and hugged him like I had never hugged anyone else before in my life. Maybe it really would be okay. Maybe Max would be okay. Besides, my dad had never ever made a promise in his life to me that he didn’t keep. That was one thing that I liked about him. He wouldn’t lie to me and tell me that he would do something and then let me down. If he said he would show up somewhere, like to my recital, he would be there. I could always count on it. If he couldn’t do something, he would just say so, even if I would be disappointed. I had a lot of friends whose parents gave them promises and then broke them. He gave it to me straight, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I think most parents don’t realize how important that is to a kid. It might be one of the most important things of all.
After I ate my bowl of Cheerios, I went in my room and sat on my bed looking out the window. My mind started wandering back to Max. What was wrong with him? Would it really be something that he could just get medicine for? Would he need surgery like before when he hurt his hind leg? Or was Max just getting old? It serves me right for picking such an old dog in the first place when I could have had a puppy I thought to myself.
But I loved Max, from the moment I saw him. Even though I was only four at the time, I still remember looking at those big brown droopy eyes and thinking that’s my dog….I’ve got to have him.
Another strange thought suddenly entered my mind as I thought about that first day with Max. It was also the day I met Simon. They had just moved next door to us. At the time, everyone just thought that the reason Simon didn’t talk to others was because he was just very shy. Simon came over with his mother as my dad and I were walking out the door to drive to the pound to get Max. Simon’s mother mentioned that Simon absolutely loved dogs. Dad said that they were welcome to come with us to the pound. Simon’s face lit up at the invitation and he began nodding his head to say “yes.” They both hopped in our van and there we were, driving to the pound with two people we had just met and barely knew.
As we walked through the pound, we noticed that there weren’t very many puppies, mostly older dogs. Disappointed, we were about to go home. Just then, I saw Simon sitting on the ground looking through the fence at a Jack Russell terrier with big brown eyes and pointy ears. It was one of the few pure bread dogs there. I went over to Simon and sat down next to him and poked my nose through the gate to take a closer look at the dog. I looked into his eyes and he licked me right on my nose. This was my dog.
The guy who ran the pound said that his name was Max and he had only been there a few days. It turned out that his owner was a really old lady who had died and no one could take the dog, so they took him to the pound. I remember pleading with Dad to let us get Max.
“Please Daddy, Pleeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaase!”
“But I thought you wanted to get a puppy. We could wait a couple of weeks honey, and then you could get a puppy if they get some more.”
“But he kissed me Daddy. That means I have to take him home. He’s a good dog, I just know it. Please Daddy. I’ll take good care of him.”
“But Katie Bell, he is pretty old for a dog. He won’t be able to play like a puppy will.” Dad argued.
“I don’t care. He’s mine. I want Max, Daddy! I want Max! Please Daddy!,” I begged.
Obviously, Dad gave in, because that day we rode home with Max sitting on my lap. All of a sudden I realized something else. I probably would not have even noticed Max that day if it hadn’t been for Simon. He was the reason that Max and I found each other. Simon helped me find my very best friend in the whole world.
It’s funny how sometimes just by thinking about someone, they all of a sudden just show up. I must have been daydreaming because I was spooked and jumped about a foot in the air when something or someone tapped on my bedroom window. It was Simon.
I opened the window and he motioned for me to come outside. I shut the window, walked through the hallway and went out the front door. Simon was still waiting for me outside in the same exact spot that we were the day before on the street. I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him. I had talked to him so much the day before that I was out of words, and I hadn’t learned anything new to tell him about Max.
It turned out that I didn’t have to say anything at all. Before I could even think to say hello, Simon puts his hand into his jeans pocket and pulls out a sheet of notebook paper. What was this? Had Simon written me a note? Was he trying to actually talk to me? All of a sudden, I felt a little bit special, like I had been chosen after all. I guess this is the feeling that all of the teachers want to have when they try to get Simon to talk on those first days of school. Before I could ask a question, or even make a sound, Simon turned and ran home. Well, perhaps it wasn’t as much of a breakthrough as I had thought. Maybe I wasn’t so special after all.
I went inside and rushed to my room to see what was on the piece of paper that Simon had given to me. My mind was racing trying to guess what secrets from his mind were scribbled on that paper. This was more proof of how powerful Simon’s silence really was.
I unfolded the paper. At the top it read, “To Katie, From Max…..written by Simon.”
Written by Simon? Simon had written a story for me? As I continued to read, I found that this was not the case, well not exactly.
To Katie, From Max
Written by Simon
Dear Katie,
This is letter is from me, Max. Yes, I know. I am a dog. Dog’s don’t write people letters. That is why I had to have Simon write it for me. He is one of those few people that we can talk to. I found out that Simon and I could talk to each other on that first day at the pound. I know he doesn’t talk a lot to people, but he sure talks to us dogs a lot.
Anyway, I asked him if he would write this letter for me because there is something that I want to talk to you about. Most dogs don’t get the chance to talk to the people that they love, but I am lucky. Because of Simon, I can tell you how much I love you, what these years have meant to me, and let you know that everything will be okay.
I remember when I first went to the pound. Mrs. Hatcher had died. She was a wonderful lady who took good care of me from the time I was a puppy. Nobody in her family wanted to take me home, so they dropped me off at the pound instead. I felt so scared and alone. Some of the other dogs had been there a long time and no one had taken them yet. Then they told me what they did to the dogs that nobody wanted. That made me even more scared.
Then you and Simon came walking through and passed by me to look at the puppies.
‘Nobody’s going to want me’, I thought. ‘I’m too old.’ Simon turned around. I guess he must have heard me. He said, “Don’t worry. You’re not too old.” We started talking and he told me about you and that you were looking for a puppy. I asked him if he could let me meet you. That is when you saw him and came over to me and put your nose through the wire fence. And I licked you. And you wanted me. And you and your dad took me home. I was so happy.
I have been very happy ever since. Mrs. Hatcher was a good owner, and she loved me. But nobody loves me the way you do, and I know that. You let me sit in your lap and lick your face. Mrs. Hatcher always had a thing about germs and didn’t like it when I tried to sit in her lap. You talk to me about your day and I listen. Sometimes, I wish we could talk to each other and I could tell you that it is all going to be okay. I want to tell you that Jimmy Naylor is an idiot, and that your dad will get another job soon. I think you understand, but I still wish I could say it, so I guess I’m saying it in this letter.
I have to tell you something that might upset you. I am getting older. I am not going to be around much longer. I can feel it in my bones. I think people and dogs are about the same. Mrs. Hatcher seemed to know that it was about her time to go. We all know when it is almost our turn to die. Yes Katie, I am going to die soon. I am not exactly sure how much longer I have, but I wanted to warn you and let you know how much you truly mean to me. I don’t want you to be sad. This is just the way it is. I have had a good long life, especially the time that I have been with you and your family. And if you want to get a new puppy after I am gone, that will be okay too.
I love falling asleep at your feet and waking up with you in the morning. I never feel lonely when I’m with you. You are the most special person that I know. I know that sometimes you say that you feel like you’re invisible, that you don’t matter. But to me, you always matter. You are my very best friend.
Whatever days I have left, I have them to spend with you. Let your family know that I love them too. They have been good to me also.
Thank you for being the very best a friend a dog could ever have.
Love,
Max
I couldn’t believe it. Was this some kind of cruel joke that Simon was playing on me? I had gone on and on about how much I loved Max and how worried I was about him and he gives me a note saying he’s going to die? And he says that Max, my dog, wrote it!
To Simon, this was just another creative story idea that I had given to him. Did he really think I would like it? After all of the years of not talking to me, this is the way that he had decided to begin a conversation?
I crumpled up the paper in my hands, threw it on my desk, and flopped down onto my bed. Tears were running down my face. I was crying so hard that I was having a hard time catching my breath. How could Simon be so mean to me, after how nice I was to him? Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t talk to people, if this was the kind of thing he was going to talk about.
Once I caught my breath, I picked up the letter and read it again. This time, I noticed some things I had seen the first time I read it. Mrs. Hatcher. The old lady’s name was Mrs. Hatcher. How did Simon know that? The man at the pound had told my dad that an old lady had died and that Max was brought there by her family. But he never told my dad her name. Maybe Mrs. Hatcher was just a wild guess or something Simon pulled out of his imagination.
The letter also said that Max always sleeps at my feet. How did Simon know that? Was he spying on me too! And how did Simon know that Max likes to curl up in my lap and lick my face? Maybe that was something that I told him out on the street and I just didn’t remember. ‘That must be it.’, I thought. And Simon knew that Jimmy Naylor picked on me and that my dad lost his job, so that explained that part of the letter. What Simon couldn’t have known, was how much reading that letter was going to hurt m
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This was wonderful. It got my attention and kept it without dissapointing me. I know this is a childrens novel but I would love to read more. It is creative, engaging, and very well written. The only real thing I would suggest is making the time of the story known; as in what year it is taking place. Other than that, I hope you continue to write this as I believe it shows real promise! Wonderful job!
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The story is claustrophobic—too much is focused on the little girl and her perspective. While the voice and pov should be anchored to her, as she’s the protagonist, you give her too much authority. She is the voice of the the absolute narration as opposed to a character responding to the narrative elements. Make her prejudiced and bigoted to her point of view.
All too often she gives the reader back story that she as a character wouldn’t really give.
Tension is alleviated by the simultaneous voice of each character’s dialog. I would like to see future drafts without a focus on being clear—add more mystery.
The story should be tightened up to include only the necessary information. Like writing an essay, the chapter should follow a narrative thesis.
Hope this helps, good read.
Very nice story. Just a few small things that stuck out. If they were neighbors and carpooling, Katie would likely have been more comfortable with Simon and not as shocked by her’s mother’s suggestionthat they talk. There was a reference on page five that Simon’s eyes looked like a little boy’s on Christmas which seemed unnecessary since Simon is a little boy. I think the Naylor and Taylor last names are too close. It will be interesting to see how it ends.
This story got my very first 10 in ranking. I could find no errors in it and think that is has got to be the very best children’s story I have seen on Urbis. Please let me know when and if you submit more. Excellent Job.
i thought this was pretty good. It kept my attention and held it. good job.
Ok, I’m hooked! At first I thought this was going to be another run-of-the-mill children’s friendship stories. The last few paragraphs opened up another world of possibilities. Can Simon really talk to dogs? I’m dying to know! I think this will make a fantastic children’s/YA book. A joy to read!
Bravo! You’ve left me wanting more. I’m very curious where you’re going to take this if this is just the first chapter? Great subject matter and I think it is well written for your target audience.
I love the analagies… IE – “but I could see that her eyes were crinkling, and her eyes always did that when she was worried about something. The last time I had seen her eyes do that was when Dad called home to say that he had lost his job about two months ago.” Kids are always comparing the world to other things/events that they know. I’d love to see even more of this.
I’m wondering if it might make our interest even greater if you opened instead with Max getting rushed to the vet? Perhaps she was playing with him and he fell down or something. I’d like to see even more of their relationship- even if it’s done in a flashback. Perhaps some grand adventure they had.
I love Simon writing the letter from Max. I almost feel like I have a better idea of who Simon is than Katie or Max though. What can you add that will flesh out Katie’s character and make her more unique/memorable?
Great start- Keep writing!
Matt
I actually think that this piece, written for the age demographic that you are shooting for, is very well-realised. To be honest, there was little in the way of spelling or grammar mistakes. The prose was lightly amusing and enjoyable distracting… just what the young reader wants.
The character was charming… I might print off this to see how my young niece fares (with your permission, of course!)
A little niggle of style might be that a great deal of the new paragraphs begin with the first person pronoun… generally as a reader you are not that aware until you see a continual stream of them.
Feel free to disagree!
Harold
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