Roo

Today was the day. She finally was going to do it. Time was up. There were no other alternatives. She was ready.

________

The final bell rang to end another miserable day of high school. Rose Blanchard looked up from her book and began to pack up her things. Study Hall was the last “class” of the day for the sophomore and it was also her favorite. It was in the cafeteria, so she could spread out and stay away from her classmates. Rose was shy and couldn’t quite fit in with anyone or any group. Sports were nothing but an afterthought. Band was fun, but she couldn’t afford to buy an instrument, and the mathletes…well they were too boring.

The one thing Rose loved to do was read. When the school library was open, she’d spend lunch, study hall, before school, and after school all in the library sitting in her favorite beanbag chair tucked in the corner under the air vent. This allowed her to stay cool in the warmer months before summer vacation and warm enough in the chilling winter. Mr. Thompson, the school librarian, helped her find new stories to read anytime she was in between novels. He was someone she looked up to. A man with a vast amount of knowledge, yet so down to earth and kind.

Rose placed her book, CD player, and Twilight Movie soundtrack CD case in her backpack and began to stand up. A jock and cheerleader walked past the table she had been sitting at.

“Hey Rose, nice CD player, ever heard of an IPod,” the jock said in a mocking tone.

“I remember when I was 8 and had one,” the cheerleader chimed in.

They both laughed and the jock shoved the table into Rose. The corner hit her stomach so bad she soon started to tear up. The teacher was gone and everyone else that saw what happened just kept going along with their day. Rose held back the tears and continued out of the cafeteria.

She walked past the library to see that it was closed for its monthly book reset, so she was stuck going home. Her home life was something to be desired. Rose’s mother was a recovering drug addict who worked two jobs to make ends meet. Her father abandoned her when she was six to go party in Las Vegas and get high every night. The house itself was a shoebox and barley fix two people comfortably. Moss was growing on the roof, its white siding slowly was falling off the house, and the landlord frankly didn’t give two shits. So, going home was never easy.

Rose grabbed her binders and books needed for the nights’ homework, shut her locker, and headed out the front entrance of the school. The two mile walk home gave her time to think. Think about all the times spent inside the school library. Think about how her mom was trying her best, but some days Rose wished she would leave and never come back. Think about how it was time to leave this earth.

Suicide had started to become a constant thought in Rose’s mind after her classmates found out her mom had a drug problem. Before she started to sober up, Mrs. Blanchard relapsed and got arrested for carrying a baggie of heroin in her bra staggering home from the local bar down the street. Her face was plastered over the newspapers and local TV stations and soon rumors spread around saying Rose was a heroin baby (which wasn’t true).

Students would walk past her shouting “Drug Baby! Drug Baby! Drug Baby!”. They’d also knock the books she’d be carrying out of her arms onto the floor. A teacher or two would intervene, but it kept happening. Then as time moved on, the bullying got worse and that’s when the thought of suicide became apparent.

As Rose passed “Pete’s Pastries”, which indicated one mile to go, she began to talk herself into committing suicide. She had it all planed; sit in the bathtub full of water and put in her mother’s curling iron. Electrocution: kind of quick, but also painful. There’ d be no suicide note because in her mind, no one would really care anyway.

Suddenly a whimpering noise came from the alleyway she was passing. Rose snapped back into reality and stopped. It began again, this time getting a little louder. She slowly began to walk into the dim, unmaintained piece of pavement, toward the noise. There was one dumpster up against the wall. As Rose approached the enlarged trash bin, the whimpering stopped. She paused and it began again. Finally getting close enough, Rose could make out a small, battered face with a black nose and white fur surrounding it. She pushed the dumpster aside and sitting in front of her was a Beagle.

It stared at her with its glossy eyes and cried. The dog was shaking and body was skinny. Rose froze and just stared. Tears began to form as she inched closer and closer to the homeless animal. The Beagle didn’t move, but instead started wagging its tail. She sat down next and slowly began petting the dog’s head. Soon she had it in her arms and began to cry. This was the first time something or someone wanted her attention.

Rose looked at the dog and said, “I’m going to call you Roo.”

As she stood, so did Roo. The Beagle stared at her, wagging its tail so fast one could hardly see it.

“Let’s go home,” Rose said smiling.

Roo quickly became the one friend she was looking for. The excitement and joy this dog showed Rose was something even her mother neglected to do. The suicidal thoughts escaped her mind and vanished into the crisp evening air. She had found purpose and hope; all through this lonely animal seeking shelter and compassion. There was reason to live, breathe, and take on a new day.

For Rose and Roo, it was the beginning of the rest of their lives.