Be Light Like a Bird Read online

“Yeah, he does,” I said. “He’s just different.”

  “Who are you talking about?” Victoria asked as she joined us, her hair tied into a voluminous ponytail.

  “We’re talking about Theo,” Carrie said. “Poor Wren has to work with him on the report.”

  “Yeah, poor you!” Victoria turned to me, all fake concern. “Where does he get those shirts?”

  “His mother must alter the ones she got from her grandfather,” Victoria said, bursting out in shrill laughter. Carrie laughed too. I did not.

  “And the hair!” Victoria continued. “He probably parts it every morning with a ruler.”

  I moved my facial muscles into what I hoped looked like a smile, but the laughter stuck in my throat. “He’s not that bad,” I said. “He’s really smart. I think he’s just lonely.”

  As if on cue, Carrie and Victoria stopped their laughter and turned to me in mock surprise, eyebrows raised. For a second, I envisioned a miniature version of myself crawling inside one of the lockers next to us and closing the door behind me.

  Carrie said, “Someone likes someone here, Wren?” She stretched my name into one long “nnnnnnn,” lifting her head, as if pulling me up on that one letter.

  I shook my head. “Noooo!” It sounded weak.

  Victoria broke out into a singsong, “Wren likes Theo. Wren likes Theo. Wren likes…” She looked at Carrie to join in the chorus.

  I knew I was supposed to laugh and make some crazy gesture, like covering my ears with my hands, or shaking my head wildly, or throwing my hands up in the air in protest. But my brain switched into slow motion. I couldn’t lift my arms to perform one of the required exaggerated gestures; instead I just waited for them to leave.

  * * *

  In the back room of the health food store, where Mr. Leroy did all of his paperwork, hung a framed postcard with a black-and-white photograph of an old Frenchman holding a pipe. He had slick dark hair and the same kind of horn-rimmed glasses Mr. Leroy wore. Mr. Leroy had told me the man was a famous French philosopher named Jean-Paul Sartre. On the bottom of the card, one of his famous sayings was printed in bold letters: L’enfer c’est les autres.

  When I’d asked about the postcard, Mr. Leroy had given me the translation. I’d copied the quote right into my notebook where I collected all the French words he’d taught me. It meant: Hell is other people.

  I couldn’t agree more.

  16

  For the rest of the afternoon I kept replaying the scene in my head. First I got angry with Victoria and Carrie for teasing me. Then I got angry with myself for not standing up to them. Then I got even angrier with myself for letting this bother me so much. By the end of last period I was in a royally bad mood.

  After school I jumped on my bike and raced over to Pete’s Pond. I hurried through the woods, longing for the moment the water would come into view.

  Only a few steps away from the long grass encircling the pond, I slowed down. Someone was sitting on my boulder. I recognized the jacket — Theo. He was following a crow with his camera as it flew across the water.

  “What are you doing here?” My voice sounded shrill.

  Theo jerked his head around and looked at me, startled. “I’m watching birds and taking pictures of them.”

  “You can’t be here! This is my place!”

  One of Theo’s long pauses hung in the air. Joseph, the crow, landed in the tree next to us.

  “That can’t be true,” Theo said calmly. “We wrote in our report that Pete’s Pond is public land. It doesn’t belong to you.”

  “You know what I mean,” I snapped. “I need to have this place for myself!”

  Why do I sound like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum?

  “But…” Theo began.

  “Don’t you have a dead raccoon to take a picture of?” I glared at him.

  Something in Theo’s face shifted, and he suddenly looked sad.

  I felt the taste of tears welling up in my throat. I looked at Joseph. The bird cocked his head and let out a caw. Then he flew off.

  Theo got up and walked away.

  * * *

  I climbed up on the boulder. I’d had no choice but to do that. It was better that Theo didn’t hang out here. This was my place, and I couldn’t share bird-watching with him. No way.

  I tried concentrating on a pair of black-capped chickadees, but I kept thinking of the way Theo had looked at me before he left. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I’d been mean to him — unnecessarily mean.

  A moment later I gave up. I couldn’t focus on birds anymore and walked back to my bike to ride home.

  On 6 Mile Road I saw a dead squirrel. I got off, put my bike in the grass, and took out my trowel to dig a hole. The hit-and-run must have occurred some time ago. There was already that nauseatingly sweet smell of decomposing flesh, and a car had run over the lower part of the body. It looked like a bird had pulled its innards out, but had been interrupted. Flies buzzed on a mass of dark red tissue attached to what appeared to be a blood vessel or a piece of intestine draped in a perfect crescent around the carcass.

  A ray of sunlight suddenly illuminated the bloody mess, and for a moment it almost looked like a striking piece of art. I thought of Theo and how this would have made an unusual photo. I hated myself for being mean to him.

  After I was done, I sat next to the small grave and waited to see if the burial would bring me some relief, would make me feel less rotten. It didn’t. The cloud pressed down, heavier than ever.

  A car stopped, and a woman asked if I was okay. I put on a smile and lied.

  17

  “I filled out the form for the post office so they can forward our mail to our new address,” I said later that night as I watched Ma make dinner. “All you have to do is sign it.”

  “We don’t really have to do that,” Ma said, still facing the stove. “It’ll just flood our mailbox with ads.”

  “What if they find something from the crash?” I said. “They’ll need to know how to contact us.”

  Ma turned around, and for a second I thought I saw a flicker in her eyes. Then she asked, “How do you like my new hairdo?”

  I studied her a moment. Light streaks were scattered through her hair. It had been cut shorter and blow-dried to a swift roll, framing her chin on both sides. The new hairdo brought out her eyes more, but I didn’t want to tell her that.

  “Seems longer on one side,” I said instead.

  Ma stepped over to the mirror to check. “I don’t think so,” she said, cupping the inward rolls with both hands.

  I frowned. Ma didn’t need to be more attractive. She already had a perfect figure and flawless skin. Even if she threw on her old rain jacket with the ripped sleeve, she couldn’t go to the gas station without several men ogling her. I hadn’t gotten any of her beauty; I looked gangly and plain like Dad.

  Ma finished admiring herself and turned back to the stove, stirring the red contents of a can into a pot.

  “New color and streaks plus cut. That must have been expensive,” I said.

  Ma shrugged. “A hundred dollars including tip. Something wrong with that?”

  “We need money for our down payment,” I said.

  “We aren’t even close to having enough money to buy a house.” Ma let out a sigh and gave the red mass in the pot a stir. “But I’m working extra shifts at the diner. You should be happy; attractive waitresses get better tips.” She winked at me and added, “Call it a return on my investment.”

  I didn’t like the sassy way she said that. There could also be another kind of return. The kind where she attracted another man and started dating again.

  “Have you met someone?” I asked her.

  “No.” Ma frowned at me as if I’d asked something rude, then pulled a baking sheet with fish patties out of the oven. She placed two on each of our plates and pour
ed the red mass next to them — canned spaghetti with fish patties. Seriously.

  I put two glasses of water on the table, and we sat down. “We can put your tips in the savings account for our down payment,” I said.

  “We might need the money for a new car,” Ma said. “The Volvo is losing oil.”

  “Have you had it checked?”

  “Karl at the garage said it’s beyond repair,” she replied. “He looked at it without charge.”

  “I wish Dad were here to repair it. I’d hate to lose his Volvo,” I muttered, staring down at my plate. I really didn’t like eating the tomato sauce with the fish. Together the two tasted like metal.

  Ma picked up her glass and took a sip. I could hear her swallow.

  “You know that I don’t want to talk about your dad,” she said. She gave me a warning look before she got up, rinsed her plate in the sink, and slammed the plate down on the counter.

  “Nothing happens when you say it,” I whispered. “Dad, Dad, Dad.”

  But it was too late. Ma had already disappeared into her bedroom. I was left at the table, feeling sick to my stomach. I scraped the rest of my dinner into the garbage and drank more water to get the taste out of my mouth.

  I looked out the window, feeling the cloud pressing down on me with its familiar loneliness and pain. I didn’t even want to go out to bury roadkill. I wanted to talk to someone who cared. I needed to apologize to Theo.

  18

  I rehearsed what I was going to say to Theo on my way to school the next day, but when I arrived, he wasn’t there. Sitting next to his empty chair made me feel even worse, and I wished I could go to his house right after school. But it was Thursday, and I was supposed to go with Carrie to the animal shelter.

  We had arranged to meet at the shelter at four-thirty. I was on time, but Carrie looked annoyed when she got there five minutes late.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  She just shrugged and mumbled, “Yeah,” and I remembered that she’d really wanted to come here with Victoria.

  When we rang the shelter’s bell, a lanky young woman with a nose ring opened the gate. Her T-shirt had the words LOVE A DOG — ADOPT printed in black letters around the outline of a dog’s head. I liked her immediately, but Carrie got that arrogant look on her face that she used on people she found unattractive.

  “Hey,” the woman said. “I’m Spring. Which one of you is Wren?”

  “That’s me,” I said.

  “What an awesome name,” Spring said. “I should have named myself after a bird.”

  “My dad called you and —” Carrie said.

  “I know,” Spring interrupted. “You’re here to walk Kimbra and Kyle.” She motioned for us to follow her, and we trailed along as she strode toward a flat-roofed building.

  “What kind of a hippie is she?” Carrie asked in a snotty whisper. I didn’t answer.

  We passed through a narrow corridor with metal cages on both sides. Dogs of different sizes and colors greeted us with frantic barks. I stopped to take a closer look at a puppy that hadn’t joined the crazy chorus.

  “Why does he look so sad?” I asked.

  “His mother died recently, and all his siblings have been adopted,” Spring replied.

  “Why didn’t anyone take him?”

  “Beats me,” Spring said with a shrug. “Maybe because he’s just not as pretty as his siblings.”

  “I think he’s cute,” I said, sticking my hand through the bars to pet him. “You should adopt him, Carrie.”

  “Are you looking for a dog?” Spring asked. “Your dad just said you wanted to volunteer to get some experience with dogs.”

  “I’m looking for a dog, but I want a pedigree dog, not some mutt,” Carrie said with a huff.

  “You should take one of ours,” Spring said. “They’ll love you forever.”

  “I don’t like him,” Carrie said, crossing her arms. “Look how his one ear is smaller than the other.”

  “You know what they say — beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Spring said.

  I was embarrassed for Carrie and could tell that Spring found her annoying. “Where are these two dogs you want us to walk?” I asked.

  “Right here,” Spring said, leading us to a cage at the end of the corridor. “Meet Kimbra and Kyle.”

  A heavy black Labrador mix and a short-legged brownish dog with a pug nose squeezed their muzzles through the cage door.

  “They look funny,” I said.

  “I can’t believe my dad made me do this,” Carrie muttered. “They’re so ugly.”

  “I don’t think they’re ugly,” I said. “I think they’re kind of cute.”

  “Look, the big one has a scar on his forehead. It’s gross,” Carrie said.

  “What’s so bad about a scar? Maybe someone abused the poor doggie,” I said. “Look how happy it makes them that we’re here.”

  We took the dogs outside, but as we walked, my mind wandered back to Ma’s new hairdo. I had to get it off my chest. “I’m worried that my mother is seeing someone.”

  “What makes you think that?” Carrie asked.

  “She got her hair done,” I said.

  Carrie shook her head. “My mother does that every week. What’s the problem?”

  “Just what I said — she might have met a new man,” I said. “In the past two months, whenever my mom has started dating a guy, it’s only lasted a few weeks. Then they break up, and we have to move.”

  “That’s too bad,” Carrie said. But I could tell that she didn’t really care. She quickly changed the subject. “My mom asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday party.”

  “When’s your birthday?” I asked.

  “In two weeks,” Carrie said.

  “You know,” I started to say, “I would really like to stay here in Pyramid, but I’m worried —”

  “I want her to take all the girls to her beauty salon,” Carrie interrupted as if I hadn’t spoken. “Hair, nails, makeup… I think that would be fun.”

  I didn’t say anything. Carrie clearly didn’t want to listen.

  Just then, Kyle stopped to lift his leg, and Kimbra found a place to do her big business.

  “Do I have to pick this up?” Carrie asked, her face scrunched up.

  “I guess that’s why Spring gave us these bags,” I said, pulling one out of my pocket. “I’ll hold her leash for you.”

  With obvious disgust, Carrie bent down to scoop up the poop and hurried to drop the bag in a trash can. We continued walking, and Carrie continued talking about her birthday party.

  “When we go to the salon, you can get highlights,” she said. “Like your mom.”

  “I just told you, I don’t like her highlights,” I said. “I’m worried she’s wasting money to look good for a new guy she just met.”

  “You wouldn’t have to pay for yours,” Carrie said. “You’d get a free haircut, too.”

  I was hurt but tried not to show it. “Let’s head back to the shelter and drop off the dogs,” I suggested.

  “Good idea,” Carrie agreed. “I’m over this.”

  As we walked back, Carrie continued to talk about her birthday party. She didn’t even seem to notice that I didn’t respond.

  19

  I was in no hurry to get to school the next morning. I didn’t really want to share my homework with Carrie, but I knew she would expect it. Sure enough, she saw me entering the main hall and waved at me. I pretended not to see her and walked quickly toward the stairs. Maybe she should get her homework from somebody else today.

  No such luck — Carrie followed me. “Did you do the math word problems?” she asked.

  I stopped. “Yes.”

  “Could I get them from you?”

  I should have said no, but I didn’t. Instead, I nodded and took out my noteboo
k. She took it and squatted down on the stairs to write down my answers.

  “Can you believe my dad?” Carrie asked as she turned the page of her notebook. “Now he’s making me help out at the landfill office on Saturday to file papers.” She looked up at me, and I could tell she was waiting for some reaction.

  “That’s too bad,” I said.

  “This is all about my birthday,” Carrie continued. “He wants to show my mom and me that he’s in charge. My mom thinks it’s crazy too. She wants me to have a dog.” She handed me back my notebook. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

  I started to reply, but Carrie was already headed down the hallway. She stopped suddenly and turned around. “Oh, we have to go to the shelter again on Tuesday,” she called before she quickened her steps to catch up with Victoria.

  I knew Carrie didn’t want to go back to the shelter. And, of course, she didn’t even ask if I had time to go with her again. Or if I even wanted to.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, we had gym. I usually looked forward to it, even though the girls’ changing room smelled like old socks and chewing gum. I quickly changed into my shorts and T-shirt and headed back to the gym.

  A few minutes later Theo came out of the changing room, wearing these hideous sports glasses tied around his head with a thick black elastic band. Callum nudged Tim and said, “Uhh, the four-eyed monster is coming. Beware!”

  It only got worse when we learned that our P.E. teacher was out sick, and a substitute teacher would be instructing the class instead. While the substitute took attendance, Callum crawled behind Theo and hissed in his ear, “Hey, cross-eyed monster. Which planet are you from?”

  When Theo didn’t respond, Callum pinched him until Theo turned around, staring at Callum through his outlandish goggles. I could tell the teasing was starting to get to him. There were some giggles, and then Carrie said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Theo looks like a freakish monster.”

  “A shortsighted one,” Victoria added, making everyone laugh.

  I got angry. I had seen the other kids tease him before, but today it bothered me as much as if it was happening to me instead of him. They should have left him alone. It wasn’t Theo’s fault that he had to wear those glasses. The others didn’t know anything about his mother or the way his father had changed since her death.