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A Boy and His Dinosaur

A Boy and His Dinosaur

YA&Teenfiction

8.7

Author : Wayne Kyle Spitzer

Publisher : dreame

Synopsis

When a recently orphaned boy befriends a juvenile T-rex, complications quickly arise--leading to a fateful, impossible decision ...<br /> <br /> He just looked at me, his little fore-claws opening and closing&mdash;a kind of prehistoric hand-wringing, I supposed. And it occurred to me&mdash;not for the first time&mdash;that, at least in the short-term, I might be his only means of survival; that, indeed, if I didn&rsquo;t feed him he might very well starve.<br /> <br /> What did not occur to me, at least until he began sniffing the air between us and slowly moving toward me, is that I myself might be in danger&mdash;that, in lieu of more fish or perhaps even a big dragonfly, he might try kid. Might try lying little turd-wad who was going to start 7th grade next year. Might try Denial Boy who was still convinced his parents were marooned on a desert isle and would turn up any day.<br /> <br /> Which is when, having begun backing away, I tripped over an above-ground root and fell, sprawling, onto my back, at which instant the animal&rsquo;s snout darted for my head and I screamed&mdash;only to find, seconds later, that it had not attacked me at all &hellip; but begun licking me; yes, licking me, sliding its great, pebbly tongue up and down my face, slathering my cold cheeks in gooey spit, breathing into my nostrils&mdash;filling the world with dinosaur. Filling it with heat and musk and stench.<br /> <br /> And filling it, too, with something else, something I&rsquo;d been missing since the last time I&rsquo;d seen my mother; a thing frowned upon in Grandma&rsquo;s house (where the nape of the rugs always lay left to right and the plastic floor runners always gleamed and the books in their glass-faced cabinets always stood so silent, to be viewed and not read).<br /> <br /> Mere touch. Mere contact. Mere things coming into contact with other things. Like what I felt for Jenny or even my favorite T-shirt and wool blanket&mdash;the one with the <i>U.S.S. Enterprise</i> on it&mdash;like what I felt for my plastic model kits and comic books and beat-up fishing pole (even though I never used it).<br /> <br /> Something familiar, something secret. Something, I supposed, like love. Or what a boy could know of it.