Picture Book Draft
Jacqueline Wong 806
Page #1
I watched silently from where I sat on the bench with eyes full of sympathy. The sight was terrible to see, but what could I do? No one ever listened to me. I was always the outsider of a group of people, forced to cope with everything. Who really wanted to listen to me anyway? Certainly, no one would listen if I tattled, telling how perfect Calley was bullying a weak, frightened version of the proud Duchess. Besides, cats got away with everything and anything. Everyone believed they were superior to dogs- which made all I had to say even less meaningful.
Calley stood over her with a terrifying scowl. She gripped a doll by the hand, holding it out of Duchess’ reach. The doll had curly, dark locks framing her fair-skinned face. Its eyes were a pair of shiny, green pools of sea. The doll’s dress was a deep blue with sparkling, silver stars. It was the kind of doll most female dogs could only press their pathetic faces with longing to the glass window of a toy shop. I remembered Duchess bragging during class about how her doting mother bought the best and most expensive doll for her beloved daughter. “Do you want it back or not?” demanded Calley.
Page #2
Duchess shook her perfect, pink head, too frightened to think up a better answer. Even from my distance, the salty tears in her anxious eyes were visible. Of course, no one could tell Calley “no.” Maybe I was wrong. “I’ll give it to you….” said Calley, hesitating purposely and feigning a thoughtful look. I saw Duchess’ dark eyes brighten with innocent excitement and naïve hope. “If you do whatever I say.”
Duchess’ expression became genuinely thoughtful, trying to decide whether or not she wanted the doll back enough to put herself in Calley’s hands. “Hurry up and decide!” barked Calley, lifting the beautiful doll high in order to smash it to the ground.
I bit my bottom lip. I could not bear to see this once proud dog face her doom. I hurriedly stood from my bench, beginning to walk away from the scene. My retreat was not fast enough, because I could still hear Duchess desperately plea, “No, please! I’ll do whatever you say!”
Page #3
I started walking home from school when I came across a young dog. She was sitting on the ground with her face buried in her paws. Her badly cut coat was covered in dirt and a red liquid I knew only too well. The wounded dog’s body shook with sobs and sniffles. I heard her whisper into her clawing paws, clearly ashamed. I turned away, knowing this was a private moment.
Page #4
Before I could take a step, I heard a trembling voice softly whisper my name. “Bucket?” I looked over my shoulder to see the dog. With shock, I realized who it was. “Duchess?” I gasped. With all the blood and dirt on her once perfect coat, I did not recognize her. The broken nails on her paws were filled with grime. From her nose, a steady stream of blood ran its course down to her scraped chin, and black and blue bruises covered her soft cheeks.
Page #5
“Bucket?” she said in a voice even more violent with trembling tears. “Did you…. Did you see what happened?” I felt my face burn with shame. Her eyes were shiny with insistent tears. I could not look at her. She always seemed proud and spoiled to me- traits I found the worst in any animal. I always had to put up with her because her kind mother was close friends with my own and since my oblivious parents completely adored her. Somehow, her tears and pain washed away all her bad traits, leaving her as a scared, innocent pup.
I felt her gaze on my face, waiting desperately for my answer. “Yes,” I confessed at last. I did not want to see her outraged reaction, but I also just needed to see it. Tears flowed from her eyes like rivers- always abundant with water. I could read so many emotions in those pits of darkness; anger, pain, disbelief….
Page #6
I started to wonder if Duchess would fall into a violent crying fit again. Just as I was sure she would run off sobbing, angry words I could barely understand bubbled from her once proud tongue. “You…. You saw all of it and d-did n-nothing? You saw her t-torment and b-beat m-m-me! Y-you saw her m-make a f-fool out of m-me! W-what kind of f-friend are you?”
If there was not as much blubbering, I would have yelled back at her. I might have even considered slapping those irrational emotions off her face. Her outraged words seemed so full of weakness. The word “friend” stopped me short. Duchess thought I was her friend? How could that be? “I’m sorry,” I whispered- for once sincerely feeling that way toward her. I can tell you I said many apologies to her, but never one was as sincere as this one.
“Sorry isn’t enough!” exclaimed Duchess. With that, she turned away and ran off. I watched with pity as she grew smaller in the distance until she had vanished from sight.
Page #7
That night, my mother came to tuck me into bed. A silent look of concern and anxiety was on her face. “What’s wrong, Mom?” I asked as she pulled the covers up to my chin.
She sighed a gust of air, taking a seat on the edge of my bed. “Your friend Duchess was beaten by one of those cats at your school.“ My tired body forgot all about its large amount of exhaustion and tensed at Duchess’s name. Did she tell my mother about me- about how I did nothing? Naturally, she would. Duchess loved tattling on me. Why should this time be different? The major problem was my mother always believed her.
“What happened?” I asked, studying her. I tried desperately to decode her quiet expression. I had to know what she was thinking.
Page #8
My mother shook her head, not meeting my eyes.” The cat took the new doll Amber-“ Duchess’ mother “-gave her and used the beautiful thing to manipulate Duchess. She promised to give it back if Duchess did as she said, and Duchess complied. She did some actions as ‘favors’- some of which offended other cats- including your teacher. You know how dangerous that is; they beat her. At last, the cat cut off tuffs of her coat and gave her a final beating, leaving her on the street with the destroyed doll.” She lifted her paw to wipe away a tear from her eye. “She immediately ran away in tears.”
The story made my eyes sting with tears of my own. I could never have prevented Calley from inflicting such pain on Duchess. Even if I tried, it would never make the difference for Duchess. We would only both be beaten! What was the point of that?! I would never- could never make a difference. How could I make the difference? Dogs like me never were heard.
The pain of my helplessness was too much then and too much now. I always had the need to break down in tears and cry like an infant. The whole world was against me- my parents, my siblings, my school- and I was no match for it all.
Page #9
The next morning, I sat at the noisy table with my family. My mother walked about the kitchen in her busy way. Her white coat fresh and clean as always. My father sat at the table with his nose in the newspaper. He had his left paw around a mug of coffee. Every other minute, he lifted the mug to his mouth, taking a sip. My older brother Wendell wolfed down his sausages and pancakes, and my little sister Fluffy….
She was the only one not in place. Fluffy stared at me with innocent eyes. Even as my mother placed a plate of breakfast in front of her, she continued to watch me. Her breakfast was a ghost, unseen. It made me wonder if she knew what really happened. I shook the ridiculous thought from my head. How could she know? She was not even there!
“Morning, Bucket,” she said, pleasantly. I gave her a smile which I hoped did not look uneasy. Little pups could smell fear, as they say.
Page #10
“How was yesterday?” Fluffy inquired. She always asked about my day. I always found it weird. Why did she want to hear about my day? At the same time, I was always grateful for her great amount of curiosity about how I was. Usually, no one besides her even bothered asking. Each day was the same as the next to outsiders- which included the entire planet except me.
“Fine,” I said flatly. For once, I wished she would stop asking. I turned away to let her know I did not desire having a conversation. My gaze fell to the pieces of pancake I had cut. I held the fork in my paw- a piece of pancake on the edge. My paw let my fork wander about the plate as if it had a mind of its own; I was not interested in eating.
“How was Duchess?” Fluffy asked. I could feel her dark gaze on my face, burning a hole in it.
“Not very well,” I replied. I have to say I was never a good liar. I could not get away with anything. There really was no point in lying.
Page #11
I listened to the silence between us. She was waiting for me to elaborate. At last I gave in, not wanting the silence to go on for all eternity. “She was beaten by a cat at school.”
I looked up at Fluffy. Naturally, I would expect her to be wide-eyed and all, but my words had no effect on her besides the eruption of more curiosity. “Did you see it?” she asked. She always knew the right questions. I offered her a tentative nod. Again, Fluffy patiently waited for me to say more than I wished to say.
I sighed. “I didn’t help her,” I said, half-expecting my parents to start scolding me. My father looked up from his engaging newspaper and started talking to my mother about Wendell’s terrible eating habits. Somehow, I wished they would scold me, so I would at least know I was not always unheard.
The agitating Fluffy gave me a small smile. “What are you going to do?” There was no trace of laughter in her quiet smile. I always found it strange how she was one of those very few kids that never laughed. Then again, I never laughed that much either.
Page #12
“I can’t do anything to help her,” I said hysterically. “No one cares about what I say.” With these words, I looked down at my plate, feeling hot tears fill my eyes, clouding my vision. “I have no voice in anything. Why should it matter what I have to say if I don’t have a voice anyone will care to listen to.”
“Make them listen,” Fluffy insisted. Her smile grew and tears filled her own dark eyes. There was so much gentle patience on her face- too much for a child of seven years. “They will listen if you show you care.”
I smiled a smile which was banished so long ago. I did have a voice! The person I least expected helped me to find it. It was strange: I would follow my little sister’s example, but look at her…. She was always heard, always listened to. She spoke up for what she thought was right. She was heard because of it and I could do the same too.
