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Tweak says, "I'M CHARGIN MAH LAZER"

Artemis (

shaftsofgold) wrote in

nevermore_logs,
@ 2023-10-21 22:01:00

WHO Artemis
WHEN June
WHERE Harlem
WHAT Chicks dig dogs
WARNINGS Briefly implied child abuse; implied fatal consequences

When Artemis returns from Colorado, it’s with two dogs trotting at her heels.

The kids at the community centre descend on the three of them in a swarm, jostling and pushing past one another, reaching out with questing hands. Are they your dogs? Can we pet them? What’re their names?

Aello, shameless glutton for attention, flops to her back immediately, tail thumping the floor, tongue lolling out of an upside-down grin. Aristo keeps to Artemis’ side, but when small palms are extended for inspection he licks them graciously and arches his neck for scritches.

This is something Artemis likes about kids: They don’t complicate things that don’t need to be complicated. They see two dogs, telling them with relaxed stances and soft tail-sweeps that everybody’s cool here, and they respond in kind. They don’t all rush forward, but even the nervous ones trail over to watch after a minute or so.

Not so the adults. They see not dogs but a collection of problems: claws that could break delicate skin and teeth that could crush tiny bones and no collar or leash or muzzle to prevent it. They see lawsuits and OSHA violations and news articles about gross negligence. The parents who’ve lingered cluster in with the children, reining them back with admonishments: don’t crowd, animals need space space; always ask before you pet a strange dog; be gentle; alright, two at a time, no more.

One mother, hovering anxiously, asks, “They don’t… I mean, you’re sure they won’t bite?”

Artemis answers with the simple truth: “Only if I tell them to.”

Weirdly, this doesn’t seem to reassure anybody.

The reaction from the centre’s management is predictable. Or at least, it is predictable to to any who care to spend time thinking about such things, a population that does not include Artemis. It hasn’t been all that long since Artemis thought OSHA was the name of an overly officious woman at City Council.

The dogs are fussed over, praised, then unceremoniously banned from all future classes.

Fortunately, Artemis has discovered a foolproof hack for dealing with being told ‘no’.

Across town, at the kind of art gallery opening where the clothing on the patrons’ backs carries a collective value almost as high as that of what’s hanging on the walls, Athena’s phone buzzes.

Athena, shining-eyed goddess of wisdom, contriver of devices, protectress of cities and deliverer of victories, reads the message and sighs.

Hey I need you to fix me up with another one of those I can do what I want certificates

The following week, the dogs return to the community centre sporting brightly-coloured jackets and accreditation certifying them as licensed therapy dogs.

Artemis thinks the jackets look stupid. Athena overrules her with a dagger-flash look.

Early morning is when Artemis likes to take her runs, when the sky’s still dark and the moon’s still high. The dogs run with her, Aristo sleek and phantom-pale at her left heel, shaggy Aello a storm cloud at her right. She pushes herself hard, chasing the pounding of her own pulse till her breath burns sweetly in her lungs and her curls are plastered with sweat, knowing it’ll never be enough, will never match the pure wild thrill of the hunt, knowing she’ll hit the shower unspent and unsatisfied.

Still, she’s missed running with a pack.

Artemis is less excited by the dog park. She still takes them there, because dogs are social creatures, and because it’s the only place in the city some rules lawyer won’t feel impelled to lecture her about putting her animals on a leash, but she’s not interested in swapping small talk with dog owners who dress their pets in cutesy sweaters and give them names like Xavier and Jefferson.

What she’s failed to take into account is this: Chicks dig dogs.

“Oh my god, your dog is beautiful!” A dark-eyed girl with wire-rimmed glasses and feathery-short hair, radiating soft butch energy. She’s reaching down to pet Aello, who leans full-bodied into the attention, eyes narrowing to blissful slits when the girl ruffles her ears. “What is she, a wolfhound?”

Artemis tips a shoulder in a loose half-shrug. Her eyes linger on the girl, the tickle of hair against cheekbones, the full swell of her lower lip. “Maybe a little. Deerhound, mostly.”

“Like, hunting deer?”

“Sure,” Artemis smiles languidly. “You ever been on a hunt?”

Skylar is one of the quiet ones. She shows up sporadically and hangs at the back of the class, mumbling answers through the curtain of her bangs when forced to speak. Shy kid— and maybe that’s all it is. But Artemis has noticed the way she tenses up like a rabbit poised to flee when the double doors bang open with a latecomer’s arrival. Noticed the way she wears long sleeves even in summer, and the way she’ll sometimes favour her right arm.

But that day the dogs arrive, something inside Skylar comes alight. She doesn’t rush in with the other kids, lingering as she always does on the fringe of the crowd, but she drinks the sight of them in, craning to see over shoulders and around heads. That day, she doesn’t shoot out the door at the end of class, but stays back, waiting till the kids have thinned out before edging up to Aristo. Artemis, with her hands full with gym mats, pretends not to see. She’s watching, though, when the girl extends a hand for the dog to sniff and the sleeve hitches up, revealing for an instant a flash of skin, stippled with round burn marks like angry pink suns.

Artemis takes her time packing up while Skylar ruffles Aristo’s ears and traces her fingers along the curl of his tail. Harper and Valeria are occupying Aello, who’s subjecting their hands to a thorough licking, to squeaks of delighted disgust.

“She’s chewing on me!”

“She is not chewing.”

“She is! Look! Diane, does she bite?”

The question is Valeria’s, but it’s Skylar’s downcast face that pulls Artemis’ gaze. Her bangs have slipped over her eyes again and she smooths the fur between Aristo’s ears like they’re the only two beings in the world, but Artemis remembers the burns. She says, “Only if I tell her to.”

That night, Artemis takes the dogs hunting.

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