Young Writers Society

Several weeks passed. Once a day, Mother would teach me a little more Braille. I was getting good at reading it now, and I felt proud. Except whenever Mother told me I could leave, I would run right to Mousse and start training with him as well. He knew where my room was now. All I had to tell him was, "Go to my room, Mousse," and he could help guide me.

Elizabeth and Anna came over for my party—but it really wasn't the same as it was years before. We talked and Anna painted our nails, but that was about all. Our friendship was breaking, and it was clear to all three of us.

Sheila and Jason would come home at 3:00 p.m. every weekday. Sheila was feeling better now, and she played with Mousse a lot more.

"It's a perfect name for him, Ember," she said one day.

"Thanks." I mumble, then scratch under Mousse's ear. I hear him scratching, and I grin. He loved this spot.

"Well, I'll be doing homework. Last week of it, then school is out." Sheila said, patted my head, then she walked off.

I sighed. Jason always complained about homework: "I have too much!" or "This problem is so hard!" It didn't really sound like the best thing on earth.

Mother cut my school by a couple hours, since it was becoming summer soon. Summer was my favorite season, I loved the hot and humid air and the sun that shined everywhere. The one thing I hated was water. It scared me. The thought of drowning was creepy—lungs in your chest burning as you hold your last breath, then the water filling them, and there you are, dying slowly.

I've dreamed of drowning before. I didn't see anything, though. My chest hurt and when I inhaled I suddenly woke up, gasping. I think drowning is my worst fear.

"Mousse, to the backyard," I tested, but his feet didn't pad on the floor, so I knew he was still here.

"Uhh. Come on, Mousse," I said. I made my way to the backyard. I didn't go there often, so I tripped over a doll and stubbed my toe on a chair, but I made it to the glass door that led to the backyard. My hands fumbled for the handle, and I managed to open the door and step outside.

I took a big sniff of the air, and the smell of BBQ filled my nostrils. Someone was grilling, most likely the neighbors.

"Mmm," I said to myself, and Mousse agreed with a loud, quick bark. I giggled to myself, happy my dog agreed.

I walked across our lawn and plopped down on a soft patch of grass, wiggling my toes freely. I set my head on the ground, and raised my head so it pointed upwards. The mysterious, hot, color came to my eyes. I still wondered what it was called. I thought it was white, but maybe it was blue or green or yellow or purple.

I sighed, for about the tenth time that day. "Summer, I can't wait for you to come." I said, and Mousse whined softly. Maybe he understood me.