A Stolen Life_ A Memoir - Jaycee Dugard [2]
I abandon my search and decide to wear the ring my mom gave me four years ago for my seventh birthday, before she met Carl. My eleven-year-old finger is getting too big for it now, so I don’t wear it often. It is made of silver, very tiny and delicate, in the shape of a butterfly to match the birthmark on my right forearm that’s almost level with my elbow on the inside of my arm. The ring also has a teeny tiny diamond in the center of the butterfly. I try to slip it on, but it feels tight on the finger I used to wear it on, so I try it on my pinkie and it feels better. I finish dressing. I decide to wear my pink stretch pants and my favorite kitty shirt. It looks cold outside, so I throw on my pink windbreaker. Then I go across the hall to peek in to my baby sister’s room. Last night my mom was folding laundry in the baby’s room and I was sort of helping as I laid on the bed. I used the time to try to convince my mom how much I needed a dog; I guess I was a little annoying. Because she just kept repeating the word “No” over and over again. It’s just I really, really want my own dog. There are puppies down the street from us, and every chance I get I go down there and pet them through the fence. I don’t know why I can’t have one. The other day I had to write a paper in school about “If I had one wish.” I wished for my own dog. I would name it Buddy, and he would follow me everywhere and do tricks and love me the most. I really hope my mom will let me have a dog one day.
I showed my eighteen-month-old sister a new trick last night, too. I showed her how to jump up and down in her crib really high. It made her laugh so hard. I love making her laugh. She is almost ready to start climbing out of her crib, I think. I peek in and I see she is still sleeping, so I creep out quietly.
I feel a little queasy this morning and briefly consider telling Carl, my stepdad, that I feel sick and can’t go to school today but change my mind to avoid an argument. The truth is I really don’t want to stay home all day with him anyway. I look forward to going to school most days because it gives me time away from all of his criticism. Maybe eating some breakfast will make my tummy feel better. I go to the kitchen to make my lunch and breakfast. I decide on instant oatmeal, peaches and cream flavor. The microwave clock reads 6:30. I know I must start up the hill soon in order to catch the bus. I eat my oatmeal quickly. I’m glad Carl isn’t in here watching me scarf down my oatmeal. He already thinks my table manners are atrocious and takes every opportunity to let me know what he thinks.
One time he didn’t like the way I was eating my dinner, so he made me go sit in the bathroom in front of the mirror and watch myself eat. I don’t think I’d ever make my kid do that if it was me. I just don’t understand why he doesn’t like me. I make a PB&J for my lunch, throw in an apple and juice box, and check one more time to see if Shayna is awake yet, but she is not, so I must leave without telling her good-bye. I haven’t seen Carl all morning. I think he must be outside because he is not inside like he usually is, watching TV. I see my cat, Monkey, outside on the deck. My grandma Ninny gave him to me before we left for Tahoe. Monkey is a black Manx, which means he has no tail. When we got him I wanted to name him Sapphire because he had the bluest eyes, but Carl thought it was a stupid name and just started to call him Monkey. At first it really made me mad, and I called him Sapphire every chance I got, but as Monkey has grown, the name Sapphire really doesn’t suit him, and now I call him Monkey, too. It’s funny how you can get used to things. Monkey mostly stays outside, but I let him in at night and he sleeps with me. I don’t like to leave him outside at night because my mom’s cat Bridget was eaten by a wild animal after we moved up