Chapter One #3
“Where’d you get this dog from?” Brother asked. “You been feedin’ him out here?”
“Shhhhh,” Mama hissed. “She’s doing her little show.”
“Yes—let her do her ‘little show,’ ” Doris said, and she and Dottie tittered.
Standing behind the curtain, where she could only see their outlines through the thin cotton, Mazelle realized that her knees were knocking together. She was nervous. She whispered the word, tasting the idea on her tongue.
Mazelle had never been nervous before a show.
She’d pranced on stages with her family from the time she was still wearing diaper pins.
She sang in the church children’s choir as loudly as she could, even when she was off-key: The congregants (the audience) always cheered and swung their handkerchiefs at her, fanning air at her, and leaped to their feet when they witnessed a child singing with such audaciousness.
Once, an old woman in the front pew had fainted from fervor while Mazelle sang.
(Her love of an audience might be a pinch stronger than her love for God, but the weeping old ladies swaying to their feet didn’t need to know that.)
So why was she so afraid here? Now?
The answer came to her as she raised her trembling hand to the curtain: She had never wanted anything as much as she wanted to dazzle her family with Scout. Gram had always said to ask what was truly in your heart, not only what you thought you deserved.
“God,” she whispered, “can you make this the best show in the whole world?”
Scout licked her hand, the one hanging limply at her side while she breathed in deep like Mama’s voice teacher had taught her, from her belly.
I am the biggest star, Mazelle Washington thought. And she flung the curtain aside with so much force that one lopsided tip fell to the ground. Her sisters laughed again, but Mazelle barely heard them past the excitement pulsing at her temples.
“Presenting!” she said in her finest imitation of a ringmaster’s voice. “The one and only Mazelle Washington—and Scout the Wonder Dog!”
She bowed. And Scout bowed beside her, in perfect synchronization.
Her sisters’ laughter stopped so suddenly that Mazelle cut her eyes up at them to see their faces go slack, as if air were seeping out of them.
“Well, ain’t that clever?” Mother said, clapping already, but Daddy touched her shoulder so he could watch without distraction. He’d pulled out his pipe, holding it between his lips unlit. Waiting to see what was next.
“Do you love me, Scout?” Mazelle said. “Bark once.”
Scout barked once, just as she knew he would.
“If you really love me, Scout, bark two times.”
And so Scout did. One bark. Two.
Brother, who had been slouching against the side of the house, straightened to his full height, peering at Mazelle as if she were a stranger.
“Stand up on two legs,” Mazelle said to Scout, and he pitched himself upright, struggling to balance himself on two legs.
“And now, dear sir, will you dance with me?” Mazelle said.
Scout hopped toward her, his paws landing on her shoulders when he almost fell forward.
Mama gasped, probably afraid he would bite her.
Mazelle allowed one paw to rest on her shoulder and took hold of the other one just like she had on the road, and the two of them danced, one-two-three, one-two-three, as if dogs and children danced all the time.
Mazelle hummed “Sweet Georgia Brown” in time with their waltzing feet.
“How long you been practicin’ this?” Brother asked.
“Where’d you say this dog came from?” Daddy said. His voice was low and quiet, the tone he reserved for the times he needed everyone to hush and listen, like when strangers were coming to the door. “Who’s he belong to?”
Mazelle was disappointed that the audience had interrupted her show with questions—only the worst audiences did that—but no one ignored Daddy when his voice went low. The dancing was over. Scout dropped back down to four paws, waiting for whatever was next.
“He don’t belong to nobody, Daddy,” Mazelle said. “I found him on the road.”
“Found him when?” From Daddy’s voice, she thought she might be in trouble.
“Today,” Mazelle said. “Right before supper.”
“You sure you didn’t steal it from somebody?” Doris said. She was quick to think the worst of Mazelle—and everyone, really.
“I didn’t! He’s mine!” Mazelle shouted. She had a temper. Everyone said that too.
“Y’all hush,” Daddy said, starting to pace. He stared down at Scout and shook his head. “Obviously the dog is well trained. Someone’s gonna come looking for him.”
Mazelle would have burst out crying on the spot if she hadn’t remembered her plan to run away. No one was going to take Scout away from her. Ever.
Brother snapped his fingers loudly, and she and Scout both turned to look at him.
“Bark two times,” Brother said.
Scout just stared, looking as dumb as any regular dog.
“What’s the trick?” Dottie asked.
“It’s not a trick!” Mazelle said. “He only listens to me.”
“Show us,” Daddy said. “Do another one.”
For the next two hours, until long past dark, Mazelle did just that.