chapter one
malsum
When Malian woke up
and looked out her window,
the dog was there.
Just as she had
dreamed it would be.
It was lying on the driveway
halfway between
their small house and the road.
It wasn’t sleeping,
its head was up,
its ears erect,
its paws in front of it
as if on guard.
As Malian watched,
the dog turned its head
to look right at her,
as if it knew her,
as if it had known her
for a long, long time.
“Malsum,” she said.
“Kwai, kwai, nidoba.”
Hello, hello, my friend.
The big dog nodded
and then turned back
to continue watching the road.
Malsum. That was
the old name for a wolf.
It was a good one for that dog.
It was as big as a wolf.
It looked like the videos
of wolves she’d watched
on her phone.
The only things different
about it were the white spots
over each of its eyes.
“Four-eyed dog,”
a soft voice said
from back over her shoulder.
It was Grandma Frances.
Malian had not
heard her come up behind.
She was used to that.
Both her grandparents
could walk so softly
that she never knew
they were there
until they spoke.
Grandma Frances
would tease her about it.
“Be careful, granddaughter,
you don’t want
to let no Indian
sneak up on you.”
Grandma Frances
put her hand
on Malian’s shoulder.
“Looks to me
like he thinks
he belongs here,” she said.
Then she chuckled.
“Or maybe like
he thinks he
owns this place.”
“Would that be okay?”
Malian said.
Grandma Frances
chuckled again.
“It seems to me
it’s not up to us.
When a dog like
that just appears
and chooses you,
it’s not your decision.”
“Can I go outside and see
what he does?” Malian said.
“Let’s ask your grampa.
Roy, get in here.”
But Grampa Roy
was already there.
“I’ve been listening
to every word.
Seems to me
if you step outside
and then move real slow
whilst you watch what he does
you’ll be okay.
But just in case,
I’ll be right behind you.”
Malian shook her head.
“Remember what they said?
You and Grandma
should not go outside.
It’s too dangerous—
you might get that virus.
That’s why I can’t
go home to Mom and Dad.”
“And we’re goldarn lucky
you’re here with us,”
Grampa Roy said.
“That old saying about
how we don’t know
what we’d do without you
sure makes sense these days.
So I’ll stay inside—
but you stay in, too.
Just open the door
and we’ll see what he does.”
Malian cracked open the door.
The dog stood up
and turned her way.
He opened his mouth,
let his tongue hang out
in what she knew
had to be a smile.
She held out her wrist.
“Malsum!” she called,
her voice soft but sure.
The big dog walked over
and sniffed her hand.
“Malsum,” she said again,
dropping down to one knee
as she placed her hand
on his broad head.
The dog looked at her,
straight into her eyes.
As he held her gaze
he seemed to Malian
that she could see
intelligence and
even a hint of humor
and a kind of certainty.
Malsum nodded his head
as if to say, Yes
that can be my name.
I am here for you.
Then he licked her fingers
before turning around
and going back,
heavy muscles rippling
beneath his skin,
to drop himself down
where he had been.
“Guess he is
guarding us, for sure,”
Grampa Roy said.
“Looks like you got
a new friend.”
Provides questions, discussion topics, suggested reading lists, introductions and/or author Q&As, which are intended to enhance reading groups’ experiences.
(Please note: the guide displayed here is the most recently uploaded version; while unlikely, any page citation discrepancies between the guide and book is likely due to pagination differences between a book’s different formats.)
chapter one
malsum
When Malian woke up
and looked out her window,
the dog was there.
Just as she had
dreamed it would be.
It was lying on the driveway
halfway between
their small house and the road.
It wasn’t sleeping,
its head was up,
its ears erect,
its paws in front of it
as if on guard.
As Malian watched,
the dog turned its head
to look right at her,
as if it knew her,
as if it had known her
for a long, long time.
“Malsum,” she said.
“Kwai, kwai, nidoba.”
Hello, hello, my friend.
The big dog nodded
and then turned back
to continue watching the road.
Malsum. That was
the old name for a wolf.
It was a good one for that dog.
It was as big as a wolf.
It looked like the videos
of wolves she’d watched
on her phone.
The only things different
about it were the white spots
over each of its eyes.
“Four-eyed dog,”
a soft voice said
from back over her shoulder.
It was Grandma Frances.
Malian had not
heard her come up behind.
She was used to that.
Both her grandparents
could walk so softly
that she never knew
they were there
until they spoke.
Grandma Frances
would tease her about it.
“Be careful, granddaughter,
you don’t want
to let no Indian
sneak up on you.”
Grandma Frances
put her hand
on Malian’s shoulder.
“Looks to me
like he thinks
he belongs here,” she said.
Then she chuckled.
“Or maybe like
he thinks he
owns this place.”
“Would that be okay?”
Malian said.
Grandma Frances
chuckled again.
“It seems to me
it’s not up to us.
When a dog like
that just appears
and chooses you,
it’s not your decision.”
“Can I go outside and see
what he does?” Malian said.
“Let’s ask your grampa.
Roy, get in here.”
But Grampa Roy
was already there.
“I’ve been listening
to every word.
Seems to me
if you step outside
and then move real slow
whilst you watch what he does
you’ll be okay.
But just in case,
I’ll be right behind you.”
Malian shook her head.
“Remember what they said?
You and Grandma
should not go outside.
It’s too dangerous—
you might get that virus.
That’s why I can’t
go home to Mom and Dad.”
“And we’re goldarn lucky
you’re here with us,”
Grampa Roy said.
“That old saying about
how we don’t know
what we’d do without you
sure makes sense these days.
So I’ll stay inside—
but you stay in, too.
Just open the door
and we’ll see what he does.”
Malian cracked open the door.
The dog stood up
and turned her way.
He opened his mouth,
let his tongue hang out
in what she knew
had to be a smile.
She held out her wrist.
“Malsum!” she called,
her voice soft but sure.
The big dog walked over
and sniffed her hand.
“Malsum,” she said again,
dropping down to one knee
as she placed her hand
on his broad head.
The dog looked at her,
straight into her eyes.
As he held her gaze
he seemed to Malian
that she could see
intelligence and
even a hint of humor
and a kind of certainty.
Malsum nodded his head
as if to say, Yes
that can be my name.
I am here for you.
Then he licked her fingers
before turning around
and going back,
heavy muscles rippling
beneath his skin,
to drop himself down
where he had been.
“Guess he is
guarding us, for sure,”
Grampa Roy said.
“Looks like you got
a new friend.”
Provides questions, discussion topics, suggested reading lists, introductions and/or author Q&As, which are intended to enhance reading groups’ experiences.
(Please note: the guide displayed here is the most recently uploaded version; while unlikely, any page citation discrepancies between the guide and book is likely due to pagination differences between a book’s different formats.)
For National Poetry Month in April, we are sharing poetry collections and books about poetry by authors who have their own stories to tell. These poets delve into history, reimagine the present, examine poetry itself, provide insight on grief and reflection—from traditional poems many know and love to poems and voices that are new and
In honor of Arab American Heritage Month in April, we are sharing books by Arab and Arab American authors that share their culture, history, and personal lives.
