“Yo, Dylan!”

Dylan sprang up out of bed. Where was he? What time was it? Why was he so tired? He looked around and breathed a sigh of relief. He was in his room in the attic, surrounded by all of his stuff. Some might call his stuff junk, but him, he called them treasures. Piles of old toys he had never used, old homework papers he’d forgotten to hand in, and dog toys crowded the floor. He swung his legs over and looked at the clock. 11:24 AM. He adjusted his jeans and slipped into his old sneakers. He tied them in a simple knot that he wouldn’t trip over and made his way over his treasures. He almost tripped over his dog, Tyrone, who had fallen asleep in the middle of the floor.

Tyrone was a large German Shepard who the family had since before the kids were born. Dylan had since claimed him as his own. He loved Tyrone, even with all of his strange habits. He always fell asleep in the worst places, and many times family members had stumbled over him. But despite all of this, Tyrone was his favorite member of the family, and sometimes he was the only thing he looked forward to at the end of a long day.

Dylan stumbled down the stairs, still groggy from his sleep. He greeted his dad, who was working on the family’s computer.

“Mornin’ Dad.” He said.

His dad didn’t reply, he only kind of shifted one of his hands in a waving motion. Never discouraged, Dylan said “How’s the story coming?”

His father stopped abruptly and turned “It was going great until you came along!” he exclaimed, “Now get out.”

“Ok! Bye Dad!”

Dylan shuffled his way into the kitchen, where his older sister Paige was working on writing a story. They both grunted to each other, to indicate that one knew the other was there. Paige was a senior in high school, and was looking to major in creative writing. It was just the beginning of the school year, but since everyone was already talking about college, she had to start writing something. She was never really motivated to do anything but eat, sleep, and talk with her friends about boys. She was your typical teenage girl. They didn’t really like each other, but they had understanding because of their ages and could talk about some things that they couldn’t discuss with their parents.

Dylan toasted a bagel and ate it quickly. He licked the bits of jam off of his fingers and left the house. As he left he yelled at Paige “Don’t forget to let Tyrone out!” Today he was going to hang out with his friend, Flynn. Flynn was a pretty nice guy, and they’d known each other since kindergarten. He had blond hair and was about 5 ½ feet tall. He was very smart, but sometimes didn’t apply himself.

Flynn and Dylan were going to play a few games of basketball and then bike around the neighborhood. Flynn did live just down the street, so they hung out all the time. Dylan grabbed his old rusty bike from the garage and lifted it up over all of the clutter. He set the bike down and pedaled towards Flynn’s house. Flynn was waiting outside with a basketball under one arm. As Dylan pulled up Flynn shouted “Hey!”

Dylan jumped off of his bike as it swerved and crashed in Flynn’s yard. He jested “You ready to lose?”

“You wish!” retorted Flynn.

They played an hour of 1 on 1 basketball until they were too tired to keep playing. “Ok…I think….you should….give up.” Panted Flynn.

“You…look ready…to give up…too.” Puffed Dylan.

They both flopped down onto Flynn’s lawn, laughing. They just laid there and got their breath back until Flynn said “You wanna go around the neighborhood?”

“Yeah sure,” replied Dylan, “That is if you’re up to it.”

Flynn and Dylan had always been competing, ever since they were little. They always wanted to know who had the better test grade, who had more goals in sports, or who had a better high score in video games. They grabbed their bikes and sped away around the neighborhood. Their neighborhood wasn’t particularly large, but many cars passed through on the way to the highway. Flynn and Dylan rode around for about half an hour until they finally looped back to Dylan’s house.

When they got to his house, Dylan saw his family gathered around in the middle of the road. This was very strange, because most of his family never went outside (except to go places). As him and Flynn got closer, they could see that something was definitely wrong. When Dylan came over, they all just looked at him blankly.

“What’s wrong guys?” asked Dylan, starting to feel a little bit worried.

“Well…” started his dad, “It’s Tyrone.”

“What’s wrong, is he sick?”

His dad sighed and moved aside, revealing something out of a nightmare. There was Tyrone, lying on the ground, dead. He looked like an oddly shaped pancake, one that had too much liquid in it and had slid to the edges of the pan. He obviously wasn’t alive anymore, but Dylan felt a pang of hope.

“We have to call a veterinarian!” shouted Dylan.

His family just looked at him. His father shook his head and sighed. “We’ll wait until your mother gets home, and then we’ll bury him.”

“But what if he’s still alive!” screamed Dylan through tears “What if we can help him!”

Everyone looked down. Flynn said quietly “I have to get home…my mom’s probably looking for me…” Flynn got on his bike and rode away, and Dylan fell to the ground.

His father dragged Tyrone out of the road and covered him with a sheet. It was like a horrible secret that he didn’t want anyone to know, where everyone knew he had it, but nobody knew what it was. When his mother got home from her shift, the dug a hole and buried him.

That night, Dylan had a dream. He was small, smaller than his usual height. He didn’t know where he was. It looked like his neighborhood, but it was hard to tell from this far down. He saw his house and looked at it. His sister Paige was in the front yard, texting on her phone. Suddenly a noise pierced the air. A fire truck was coming, and from his height it looked like a monster truck. Its horn pierced the air, and he wanted to move. Why couldn’t he move? Move stupid! The truck was inches away from him and he tried one final time to move. He finally accepted that he could not move and was frozen in that one moment of time. Like a tableau, he could see the truck right next to him. He could see Paige looking from the lawn, mouth agape. He looked back to the truck and it looked as if this moment would last forever. But it didn’t. Right when he looked back, the truck started moving, Paige started screaming, and he was jolted awake.

He sat up in bed for the rest of the night then. He didn’t want to risk another nightmare like that.

It was Christmas of the same year. It had been 3 months since Tyrone had died, and Dylan still felt sadness when he thought about his lost friend. His sadness reflected in his grades and sports, which suffered because of that. He barely ever asked Flynn what he got on tests anymore, and there was a little bit of a tension between them.

It was Christmas, and Dylan ran downstairs. Nothing could ever ruin Christmas, not even bad memories. He got downstairs and opened all of his presents. Nothing too special, and he got some of the things that he asked for. Finally, after all of the presents had been unwrapped, his parents told him to come to the kitchen. He hadn’t actually been in the kitchen yet, so he wondered what his mom might have baked.

He walked in and saw a new puppy. It was a young fluffy white puppy, who wagged its tail when it saw him. It jumped into his arms, and his parents said that they had gotten it for him to make up for Tyrone.

Dylan looked up and said “Thank you,” but as he smiled about the new puppy, he knew that his smiling mask hid a face of sadness.