Close to the end. Just two more to go. Read the other chapters first Photo credit: ArtStation
“Thank you, mushers, for participating in the race. We’re starting with the awards. We have, for our Rookie of the Year award, Madison DiPlaza!” Madison stands up, bows, and sits back down. Everyone claps. They go through the Humanitarian, Sportsmanship, and Red Lantern. All the winners are people I’ve never heard of before, except for Humanitarian, which was the kid whose dogs were in a fight with mine at the beginning. That feels like ages ago. It feels like it wasn’t even me who separated dogs in that fight. Like I’ve changed since then. “Now, what everyone is excited for... our winners!” Baylee grabs my hand and squeezes. I smile at her. “In third place, we have... Peyton Giovanni! Come on up, Peyton!” “In second place, and they were very close to the first place runner, Della Bluff! Come up, Della!” Baylee squeezes my hand again. I look at her, then walk to the stage, feeling like a bride on her wedding day. I stand on the 2 made of tape on the stage. The announcer gives me a thumbs up, signaling that I’m in the right place, then announces Baylee as first. She grins widely at me as she stands between me and Peyton. The announcer lady hands the prizes to us. I don’t focus on what Peyton gets, but I get a shiny wooden picture frame with Shimmer Creek Sled Dog Race carved on it. I run my hand over the smooth wood. I’m cherishing this. Baylee takes the purse. I gaze at it in awe. It’s not a real purse, of course. A purse is just a fancy metaphor for the grand prize. It’s a giant cardboard check. The announcer holds the check with her. They wait a minute for pictures, then Baylee holds the check herself. It’s comically large in front of her. She stands there, cheesing madly. “Will all mushers come on to the stage to hand over your mailbags,” the announcer says. I jump off the stage and get my mailbag from the seat. The bag is safe and dry. It’s seen some stuff. The mail lady from the beginning walks down the line, collecting the mailbags on a wheely cart. “Here you go,” I say proudly, holding the bag out. “Safe and sound.” After the event, Baylee comes over to my dog truck, Novva in tow. “Here’s the muzzle back.” I pass her the sled bag. “Thanks for everything. Come over here later. We need to exchange numbers.” She nods, the runs off with Novva. I put the muzzle back in the Tupperware. I allow myself a moment to think with nobody around besides my awesome dogs. I see Baylee coming back over now. So is Mr. Howard, with a very special Golden Retriever. They get to me at the same time. I take Moxxie’s leash. She jumps on me. Baylee looks at me in surprise. I laugh. “There’s still a lot you don’t know about me. This is Moxxie.”
