Free Kat's Fall by Shelley Hrdlitschka Page B

responsibility to have Kat for a whole weekend,” I tell Mom. “She has to take medication for her seizures, but occasionally she gets them anyway. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
    But Mom’s still thinking about the dog. “Kat, I’m going to be straightforward. I’ve promised myself to always be honest with you.” She picks up the cigarette and takes a long pull on it. Her hand is shaking. “I’m afraid of dogs. Deathly afraid. Have been since I was a little girl and got this.” She pulls up one leg of her jeans to expose a mass of scars twisting around her leg. It looks a lot like the underside of my arm. For a brief second I wonder if it really was a dog, but then I notice the shaking hand again.
    “You were attacked?”
    Mom nods.
    “But Star isn’t like that!” Kat signs. “She’s gentle and sweet and—”
    “It’s an irrational fear, honey. The same way other people are afraid of spiders or snakes. I’ve tried to deal with it, but I’ve had to face up to so many other things. That one hasn’t been high on my list.”
    “You’ll get used to her,” Kat insists. “I promise.”
    Mom stares at her. “I don’t know. One thing at a time I think. We’re just starting to get to know each other and I want to get reacquainted with your brother and find a job. There’s so much for me to do already.”
    Kat sighs. I can see from her expression that Mom’s hero-status has just taken a giant nosedive in Kat’s estimation. It’s like in the game of Snakes and Ladders when you almost get to the top to win, but then you land on that last snake and it swoops you down, practically back to square one. I’d say Mom’s just made that slide.
    Mom knows it too. I try hard not to look smug.

Seven
    K at decides not to visit Mom the next day, so we’re home after school with Dad and with too much time on our hands. Kat mopes about the house, Star constantly at her side.
    Dad finally gets fed up. “What is the matter with her?” he shouts at me after Kat has burst into tears for the fourth time.
    “I think she’s trying to decide which she wants more, a mom or a dog.”
    “Tell her she doesn’t have a choice.”
    “You tell her. The dog was your idea.”
    “I’d forgotten about Sherri’s stupid fears,” he admits, then adds, mumbling, “God, you’d think she’d have outgrown it by now.”
    “I told you that you’d regret this, Dad.”
    He doesn’t say a word.

    I' M SURPRISED WHEN Kat decides to do the weekend sleepover. She’s pulled herself together, and on Thursday night she packs a bag to take on Friday. She’ll go straight to Mom’s after school.
    “You promise to feed and walk Star?” she signs, for the umpteenth time. Her anxious face makes my heart ache.
    I nod and wonder how this is all going to resolve itself. I’m actually surprised that Dad hasn’t called and asked Eileen to come and collect the damn dog.
    Kat must have read my thoughts. “And I’ll never forgive you if Dad gives her back while I’m away,” she says.
    “Dad blew it, Kat,” I tell her, using my hands. “He should have checked with Mom before he got the dog. We both knew that.”
    “I’m going to make Mom change her mind,” she signs back. “If she can stop using drugs she can stop being afraid of dogs.”
    I hand her the epilepsy medicine. “Some things you just can’t change, Kat, no matter how badly you want to.”
    “That’s what you think,” she signs and drops the bottle into her new purse.

    T HE DEEP ACHE in my chest worsens when it’s time to say goodbye to Kat on Friday morning. It is a pain that just will not go away. Maybe that’s why I actually strike up a conversation with Gem. I can’t find any other explanation.
    I find her reading a book in the library at lunchtime and sit down beside her. She glances at me, surprised, but she doesn’t tell me where to go, like I figured she would. God knows I deserve it.
    “So how come you got sent to this school?” I ask, like we’re