Because of Winn-Dixie - Kate DiCamillo [9]
“Yes,” I told her.
“I seen it,” she said. She nodded her head and put her knuckle back in her mouth. Then she took it out again real quick. “I seen that dog in church, too. He was catching a mouse. I want a dog just like it, but my mama won’t let me get no dog. She says if I’m real good, I might get to buy me a goldfish or one of them gerbils. That’s what she says. Can I pet your dog?”
“Sure,” I told her.
Sweetie Pie stroked Winn-Dixie’s head so long and serious that his eyes drooped half closed and drool came out of the side of his mouth. “I’m going to be six years old in September. I got to stop sucking on my knuckle once I’m six,” said Sweetie Pie. “I’m having a party. Do you want to come to my party? The theme is pink.”
“Sure,” I told her.
“Can this dog come?” she asked.
“You bet,” I told her.
And all of a sudden, I felt happy. I had a dog. I had a job. I had Miss Franny Block for a friend. And I had my first invitation to a party in Naomi. It didn’t matter that it came from a five-year-old and the party wasn’t until September. I didn’t feel so lonely anymore.
Just about everything that happened to me that summer happened because of Winn-Dixie. For instance, without him, I would never have met Gloria Dump. He was the one who introduced us.
What happened was this: I was riding my bike home from Gertrude’s Pets and Winn-Dixie was running along beside me. We went past Dunlap and Stevie Dewberry’s house, and when Dunlap and Stevie saw me, they got on their bikes and started following me. They wouldn’t ride with me; they just rode behind me and whispered things that I couldn’t hear. Neither one of them had any hair on his head, because their mama shaved their heads every week during the summer because of the one time Dunlap got fleas in his hair from their cat, Sadie. And now they looked like two identical bald-headed babies, even though they weren’t twins. Dunlap was ten years old, like me, and Stevie was nine and tall for his age.
“I can hear you,” I hollered back at them. “I can hear what you’re saying.” But I couldn’t.
Winn-Dixie started to race way ahead of me.
“You better watch out,” Dunlap hollered. “That dog is headed right for the witch’s house.”
“Winn-Dixie,” I called. But he kept on going faster and hopped a gate and went into the most overgrown jungle of a yard that I had ever seen.
“You better go get your dog out of there,” Dunlap said.
“The witch will eat that dog,” Stevie said.
“Shut up,” I told them.
I got off my bike and went up to the gate and hollered, “Winn-Dixie, you better come on out of there.”
But he didn’t.
“She’s probably eating him right now,” Stevie said. He and Dunlap were standing behind me. “She eats dogs all the time.”
“Get lost, you bald-headed babies,” I said.
“Hey,” said Dunlap, “that ain’t a very nice way for a preacher’s daughter to talk.” He and Stevie backed up a little.
I stood there and thought for a minute. I finally decided that I was more afraid of losing Winn-Dixie than I was of having to deal with a dog-eating witch, so I went through the gate and into the yard.
“That witch is going to eat the dog for dinner and you for dessert,” Stevie said.
“We’ll tell the preacher what happened to you,” Dunlap shouted after me.
By then, I was deep in the jungle. There was every kind of thing growing everywhere. There were flowers and vegetables and trees and vines.
“Winn-Dixie?” I said.
“Heh-heh-heh.” I heard: “This dog sure likes to eat.”
I went around a really big tree all covered in moss, and there was Winn-Dixie. He was eating something right out of the witch’s hand. She looked up at me. “This dog sure likes peanut butter,” she said. “You can always trust a dog that likes peanut butter.”
She was old with crinkly brown skin. She had on a big floppy hat with flowers all over it, and she didn’t have any teeth, but she didn’t look like a witch. She looked nice. And Winn-Dixie liked her, I could tell.
“I’m sorry he got in your garden,” I said.
“You ain’t got