My name is Brendan, and I am five years old. I go to kindergarten, but I don’t have very many friends. Most of the other kids think I’m weird because I talk to myself, they just can’t see my imaginary friends. I have so many that I’ve lost track. But they never leave me. They never drink so much that they give mommy bruises, they never leave me alone to go out and party, they’re always there. I’m safe with them, protected. And that’s what those kids just don’t understand.
I play outside a lot, mostly just to get away from the screaming of daddy, and mommy’s tears. I should be used to it by now, but I’m not. We live in a run down part of New York City. It’s not really ideal, but it has to do. There are no other kids in my neighborhood. Not since Celina went to look for the puppy with that old man in the blue van. Or when Jason’s mommy left with him, and never came back. It’s always just me. Just me, just alone. Just me and my imagination.
One day while I was walking home from school, because daddy forgot me, again, I saw a dog. And guess what! He was all alone, just like me! He looked scared, and sad, I knew the feeling. “Come here little puppy!” I said slapping both hands against my thighs. He ducked his head and lifted his front right paw in submission. I got down and crawled towards him. “I’m not going to hurt you little one, come on.” I said reaching for his head. As I placed my fingertips on his head, I ran my fingers down his back. I could feel every curve on his spine, he was ragged, and dirty, and terrified. ” It’s ok little dog.” I said reaching for the sandwich I had left in my backpack. “I’ll be your friend.” As I offered him the rest of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I saw a slight twinkle in his eye. A sign of hope, a signal of trust, and a glance of love. I called him Barter, just because. We became best friends.
I remember once, I wrapped my orange sweatshirt around my head and I swear we were flying. Flying to the sky and the stars. As we lay on the ground, me on his back, it was the closest I’d ever come to feeling like I truly belonged. I loved that dog.
Then one day, while I was walking home from school with Barter, a man came out from behind the alley way with a knife. He told me to get in the alley, and not to even think about screaming. As I started crying, the man pushed me to the ground. Barter saw my distress and jumped up and attacked the man. After an intense struggle, I heard Barter scream, and the man ran away. “ Barter!” I cried as he fell to the ground. Barter was breathing heavily as I looked down and saw his bleeding stab wounds, my heart sank into my stomach. I knew what was happening. Barter reached up and licked my face, his breathing went from weak, to shallow gasps, and then stopped. Barter had died.
I cried and cried in the alley way, hugging my only friend I had ever had, who had given everything to me. He showed me about loyalty. That dog gave me everything. I still think about barter everyday. I still live in a run down neighborhood. I still don’t have very many friends. Mommy still cries, and daddy still drinks. But I still, and always will, love that dog.
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