Ugly Dog

Mercy Us Our Sins

Ugly Dog, Ugly Dog, you did this
Ugly Dog, Ugly Dog, discard your bliss

The first week after my blowout with LeFon was taken up by research. NorseSkies, an Alaskan community college centering in vocational training and Stem Cell Research. A relatively small school, only one building, with a residence hall two blocks away. The school was founded in the 1920s, by Dr. Michigan White. White meant for the college to center in psychology, but lack of funds and a very distant location meant that a school for more relative jobs in the area was more efficient than Whites previous plans. Whites son, Dr. Carter White Jr. (Named after his late grandfather), began the schools major Stem Cell research in 1985. The school then became a collage of local training and scientific research. After years of distress over the research going on, Skies supposedly cut its research funds and when back to being a vocational school. However, only three years later in 1993, the schools Stem research fluttered once again. The school issued a statement that they had receded from using human embryos for stem cell collection, which was the easiest form of harvest at the time but extremely controversial. They instead used previously frozen cells from past research and animal embryos for their studies.
I found this all with books, Internet research, and some pestering to the older people of the town. I found myself entranced by stem cells, the fact that they could become anything, that their function wasn't limited. Although my mother and I hadn't much talked since the day she sent me to my room, I knew the unspoken rules. No mountain, no computer unless it was at the library, and limited outside time. I still had use of my phone, but she knew I didn't use it much. I hadn't spoken or seen Julia since we came back down. My problems with Maggie, it seemed to be, had been solved. We rarely ever saw each other, and eventually a time share had been unconsciously set up.
Usually I woke up at 7 AM, and was out of the house by 7:30, doing whatever it was I decided to do that day. I woke up at the same time, but now only left my room at 9 AM. I spent my time before leaving planning what I would do with my free time, then making myself a little list so I wouldn't get distracted. At 1 PM I made my way home for lunch, stayed in until 3, then had three more hours of outside time in town. I would come back, eat dinner, then sneak a snack into my room for breakfast the next morning. I never saw Maggie during these times, and her door was always closed. I assumed she roamed around during my hours of hibernation, but I had no proof of that.
One day, during my morning roaming, I had printed out some notes on stem cells and harvesting them via embryos. I had left my research on the breakfast bar, which is highly unusual for me, but I had been running late and forgot where I put them. After a while I left the house again for lunch, and upon my return Maggie was in the living room. I stopped dead, her back was turned to me, so I closed the door ever so silently hoping that she wouldn't notice I was home. She was leaning over the breakfast bar, reading my research so intently that she didn't even notice me slipping into my room. When I came back out a few hours later, both Maggie and my research were gone. Later that night I found shredded pieces of my lost papers in the sink, soaked in water as if LeFon had tried to chemically destroy them. I collected the scraps and dropped them in the garbage, hoping my mother wouldn't notice them. With the amount of stress she had, I didn't want her to be angry with me or Maggie. Better to hide the drama from her, and not have another incident.
Novice had been quiet. Although I had seen him in the living room and kitchen a few times, he was mostly in his room with his door just slightly cracked open. I would peak in without his knowledge sometimes, he was always sketching or painting. We hadn't had a direct conversation since the LeFon blowout.
I decided to take him out.
At twelve o'clock I swung his door open, finding him at his desk as usual. He turned, startled, and practically knocked his pencil case off of his desk. He was still in his pajamas, a grey T-shirt and flannel pants. His hair was a wreck, and I wondered when he last brushed his teeth.
"Let's go, kid." I said. "I'm taking you out."
Novice was about to protest, but before he could I was out of his room. I plopped myself down on the couch, listening to the sounds of him readying himself. To my pleasure, I heard the sound of running water and the clink of a toothbrush being picked up from a jar.
Minutes later, Novice stood before me in a black button up and sleek grey jeans. My brother, the fanciest twelve year old to walk Wendell. His outfit was paired with his omnipresent red converse, which made me crack a smile. No matter how smart he thought he was, he was still twelve.
I jumped up, swung on my green jacket, and pulled Novice back into the land of the living. His eyes fluttered, unused to the daylight. He looked to me, squinting.
"Where are we going?"
I locked the house door behind us and skipped ahead of him. I had a carefully mapped out plan, as usual, but there was no reason to let him know that.
"Somewhere, I don't know."
Novice scoffed, catching up to me as we walked down the road. "You know, of course you know, you always know. Where are we going?"
I grinned, good to know my brother was perceptive. But as a good journalist, I still gave nothing away. "Can I have no surprises in my life?" I asked.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Novice shake his head. "No." He said. "You don't like surprises."
"You don't like surprises, either."
"Exactly. So tell me where we're going."
Snarky, I laughed. Novice perked up, expecting to finally receive an answer, but instead I guided him to town in silence. We reached the mid town crosswalk, and I could see the youth center diagonal from us. It was a big, tan building about four stories tall, surrounded by green grass that somehow stayed perky through the cold weather. The sky was dull and cloudy, a sure sign of rain to come later in the day. With a pause in traffic, Novice and I bolted across the street.
With the back of the building facing the road, we walked around to the parking lot to find the entrance.
Over the two glass doors was a long white sign with dark and light blue handprints surrounding the words "Welcome Winter!". Judging by the size of the hands, it had probably been done by the second grade camp. I opened the door for Novice, letting the smell of crayons and paint wash over me. The entrance hall was wide and grey, with freshly painted red trim around the doors and windows. On bulletin boards were winter themed paintings, with class grades written in neat script at the top. I didn't spend much time here, but Novice had. He took to the halls like they were home, and as I looked to each different bulletin he guided me to the front desk.
"Valentine Alice Cooper?" Asked the old woman at the desk. I flinched, forgetting I had used my full name in the phone call.
"Yes." I answered, with a small cringe still on my face. Novice tugged on my arm, giving me a questioning look. The woman got up and guided us a ways down the hall, where a rough green tarp had been set up on the floor. Next to it was an open brown box full of paints and paintbrushes.
"I loved the sketch, by the way." Said the woman. "Ellie showed it to me, very pretty."
"Val, what sketch?" Novice asked. I thanked the desk woman sincerely, and she walked off. Then I turned back to Novice and took a crumpled piece of paper out of my bag.
It was a sketch of his, one of my favorites. He kept it in his desk drawer, and I snuck it out of his room when he went to the bathroom the other day. It was a weeping willow, roots and branches bare and exaggerated. As the branches spread out from the tree they turned into birds, some still half attached as sticks while others flying free. The roots, when they got too far from the tree, turned into snarling wolves with gorgeous grey eyes that lit up the black sketch. On the body of the tree, upon closer inspection, were writhing snakes with a multitude of different colors. Novice looked to me for explanation.
"I found the Youth Center Art Director in the library and showed her the sketch." I told him. "She loved it, and you now have permission to make it a mural."
Novices face was wide with shock. He took the sketch delicately in his hands, staring at it for a few moments before looking back to me.
"But every four years the murals get painted over, so new ones can be made." He said, disappointment creeping into his voice.
"Not yours." I said. From my pocket I pulled a small, laminated piece of yellow  paper.