Lost on Brier Island by Jo Ann Yhard Page B

an anime skateboarder on the back, baggy jeans, and blue sneakers—skate shoes, he called them.
    He was flying towards her. He let out a loud whoop and leapt off the board into the air…
    Alex opened her eyes, a tear trickling onto her cheek. The familiar dream was fading along with the achingly real sound of Adam’s whoop of excitement. Alex lay there, wishing she could turn back time and fix everything, like they did in science fiction movies. Fix Adam, fix her parents…fix herself.
    Sunlight was streaming through the window and a rumbling sound filled the air. She lay still, cocooned in her comforter in the cool early morning. Turning her head, she discovered the source of the mysterious noise. Two bright green eyes surrounded by orange fur were six inches from her face.
    â€œMorning, Marty,” she sniffed, reaching over to pat the chubby tabby snuggled by her side. The engine sound got louder as Marty purred and closed his eyes, his long tail swishing back and forth.
    If only a pat on the head was all that people needed too , Alex thought, rubbing her eyes with her other hand. Cats were cool. She had wanted one ever since she could remember. When she and Adam were ten, her parents had said they could get a pet. But they’d argued so much about whether to get a dog or a cat that they had ended up with neither.
    Alex reached under her pillow, pulling out her brother’s picture. She stared at Adam’s smiling face. He had been so mad at her. He didn’t care that she was terrified of dogs. He didn’t care about the reason, either—that Spike had attacked her in first grade.
    She shivered, her arms exploding instantly in tiny goosebumps. Spike was the gigantic German shepherd her neighbours kept chained in their yard. Alex never knew why, but he would run towards her every time she walked by, almost choking on his chain as he jumped and snarled. He didn’t do it to anyone else. One particular day, he broke free and chased her down the street. She tripped and he jumped on her back, ripping her new blue coat and biting her ear.
    Adam blamed her when they took Spike away, saying that he only barked at her because she was a chicken and that Spike had sensed her fear and was just being a dog. “You’re afraid of everything,” he’d said. That’s when he’d started calling her a wuss.
    Alex used to think he was being mean when he teased her. Now, it was just one more thing she felt guilty about. “Sorry you never got your puppy dog,” she whispered.
    Carefully, she lifted the tabby out of her way and slid off the bed, then put him back. Marty immediately curled up on the vacated pillow, snuggling into the depression Alex’s head had made.
    â€œYou’re lucky to be a cat. Being a person is way too hard.” Marty blinked his already half-closed eyes at her and flipped the tip of his tail. A second later, he was asleep.
    Alex tugged the window all the way open and stuck her head out. Dew glistened on the grass and a wispy mist hung low to the ground. Aunt Sophie’s chickens were already making the rounds. Four fluffy yellow chicks were clucking below her window, following in a straight line behind their mom.
    The smell of fresh coffee drifted down the hall. Aunt Sophie must be up. Alex changed into shorts and a T-shirt. As she brushed her teeth, she pulled back the bandage on her forehead to inspect her wound. Near her hairline, there was an angry red gash with zigzag stitches surrounded by a wicked dark purple bruise—ick! But at least she didn’t have a headache this morning, and the goose egg was gone.
    She peeled the old bandage with its smear of dried blood the rest of the way off and tossed it in the garbage. Rooting through the pile of supplies from the hospital, she gingerly cleaned her cut, and put on a fresh, smaller bandage. So close to her hairline, it was now barely visible.
    Aunt Sophie was alone in the kitchen watering