Free Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo Page A

Otis. He was standing there by his jar of pickles, looking down at his feet.
    “Otis,” I hollered at him over the rain, “come on, we’re going inside.”
    When we got in the kitchen, Amanda and Miss Franny were laughing and shaking themselves like dogs.
    “What a downpour,” said Miss Franny. “Wasn’t that something?”
    “That came right out of nowhere,” said the preacher.
    “Whooooeee,” said Gloria.
    “Dog,” squawked Gertrude. I looked at her. She was sitting on the kitchen table. The thunder was really booming and cracking.
    “Oh no,” I said. I looked around the kitchen.
    “Don’t worry,” said Sweetie Pie. “I saved them dog pictures. I got ’em right here.” She waved around her wad of magazine pages.
    “Where’s Winn-Dixie?” I shouted. “I forgot about him. I was just thinking about the party and I forgot about Winn-Dixie. I forgot about protecting him from the thunder.”
    “Now, Opal,” the preacher said, “he’s probably right out in the yard, hiding underneath a chair. Come on, you and I will go look.”
    “Hold on,” said Gloria Dump, “let me get you a flashlight and some umbrellas.”
    But I didn’t want to wait. I went running out into the yard. I looked under all the chairs and around all the bushes and trees. I called his name real loud. I felt like crying. It was my fault. I was supposed to hold on to him. And I forgot.
    “Opal,” I heard the preacher call.
    I looked up. He was standing on the porch with Gloria. And Dunlap and Stevie Dewberry were standing there, too.
    “Your guests are here,” the preacher said.
    “I don’t care,” I hollered.
    “Come on up here,” Gloria Dump said, her voice all hard and serious. She shone her flashlight out at me.
    I walked up onto the porch and she handed me the flashlight. “Tell these boys, ‘hey,’” she said. “Tell them you are glad they came and that you will be right back just as soon as you find your dog.”
    “Hey,” I said. “Thank you for coming. I just got to find Winn-Dixie and then I’ll be right back.”
    Stevie stared at me with his mouth wide open.
    “You want me to help?” Dunlap asked.
    I shook my head. I tried not to cry.
    “Come here, child,” Gloria Dump said. She reached for me and pulled me close to her and whispered in my ear, “There ain’t no way you can hold on to something that wants to go, you understand? You can only love what you got while you got it.”
    She squeezed me hard.
    “Good luck now,” she called, as me and the preacher stepped off the porch and out into the rain.
    “Good luck,” Miss Franny called from the kitchen.
    “That dog ain’t lost,” I heard Sweetie Pie holler to somebody inside. “That dog’s too smart to get lost.”
    I turned around and looked back, and the last thing I saw was the porch light shining on Dunlap Dewberry’s bald head. It made me sad, him standing on Gloria’s porch, his bald head glowing. Dunlap saw me looking, and he raised up his hand and waved to me. I didn’t wave back.

M e and the preacher started walking and calling Winn-Dixie’s name. I was glad it was raining so hard, because it made it easy to cry. I cried and cried and cried, and the whole time I was calling for Winn-Dixie.
    “Winn-Dixie,” I screamed.
    “Winn-Dixie,” the preacher shouted. And then he whistled loud and long. But Winn-Dixie didn’t show up.
    We walked all through downtown. We walked past the Dewberrys’ house and the Herman W. Block Memorial Library and Sweetie Pie’s yellow house and Gertrude’s Pets. We walked out to the Friendly Corners Trailer Park and looked underneath our trailer. We walked all the way out to the Open Arms Baptist Church of Naomi. We walked past the railroad tracks and right on down Highway 50. Cars were rushing past us and their taillights glowed red, like mean eyes staring at us.
    “Daddy,” I said. “Daddy, what if he got run over?”
    “Opal,” the preacher said. “We can’t worry about what might have