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Dear Deer, I wish I could pat you. You look so beautiful, standing there at the edge of the woods. Only your ears are twitching. The rest of you is still. But I can’t go into the woods, because it’s still hunting season. I have to make sure Tofu doesn’t either, even with his bright orange collar. Colby’s out there right now, with his dad and uncles. They almost always get their deer. My mom says we prefer to shoot our deer with a camera, but it’s true we eat meat. So it’s complicated.

For right now, I just stand in a clump of birches, holding my breath. Looking at a deer.

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My name is India McAllister and these are my true, random, sort of secret thoughts.

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