Jubilee (6 page)

A
fter dinner that night, Gideon scraped back his chair.

“You're the world's best cook,” he told Aunt Cora on his way out. “And you're the best artist, Red.” He tapped the cartoon I'd drawn of her, with a huge flowered apron tied around her waist. Then he went off to captain the ferry to the mainland.

Aunt Cora and I slid bowls into the refrigerator, stacked the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

I swiped the cloth over the table in huge, satisfying swirls and Aunt Cora whistled while she swept the floor. She sounded happy, almost as if she might be a rare bird that had appeared in our kitchen.

When I was in my bedroom, I peered into the mirror and whistled too….

Whistled quietly, but Dog would be able to hear me now.

“It's almost dark,” Aunt Cora said in her soft voice. “Let's take a walk and watch the stars come out over the water.”

I pulled our sweaters off the hook in the back hall, and draped her sweater over her shoulders. I wrapped mine around my waist, and snapped my fingers so Dog would know I wanted him to come too.

Outside, the katydids' song was loud as they rubbed their forewings together from the treetops. “They're telling us fall is coming,” Aunt Cora said.

We passed the wharf and trudged through the sand in our bare feet, cold now without the daytime sun to warm it. “Look up, Jubilee,” Aunt Cora said. “There's a sliver of moon, making friends with one bright planet called Venus.”

I smiled thinking about it. I loved the way she talked; I always knew what she was thinking. If only I could tell her that.

I looked out at the shimmering water, the gentle waves brushing the shore, and the boats tied up against the wharf.

I saw something else. Dog saw it too.

Someone was hiding in one of those boats, a neat little one with a furled red sail and a name painted on the stern in large black and gray letters:
Escape from the Shore.

That boat belonged to a friend of Gideon's, another ferry captain. A friend who was much bigger than the person crouching in the stern!

I kept watching, my hand on Dog's head so he wouldn't bark.

Who could it be?

Ah! It was Mason, hiding in a boat that didn't belong to him.

Was he going to steal it?

Dog gave the tiniest warning, a short gruff sound under his breath.

Someone was running fast along the sand in back of us.

I spun around and Aunt Cora turned.

A barefoot teenager, wearing cutoff jeans, stopped. “I'm looking for my brother, Mason. That kid is such a mess.” He bent over, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. “I told him he could borrow my best sneakers, and now they're green. Covered with seaweed. Wait till I get him.”

My finger was ready to point. But when I glanced at the boat, I couldn't see Mason. All I saw was the boat rocking gently.

Aunt Cora and the boy looked toward the line of boats. But my eyes were better than theirs. I saw Mason's hands curled around the side of the boat. He was in the water, head submerged.

How long could he hold his breath?

I curled my own fingers against my sides.

Aunt Cora shook her head. “I haven't seen anyone. Just the two of us looking at stars.”

The water would be much colder than the sun-warmed pond. I was glad when I saw his head pop up to the surface.

O
n Monday morning, I was out of bed in a flash, starving. Downstairs, I put kibble into Dog's bowl. Aunt Cora poured orange juice into glasses and spooned raspberries on top of my cereal.

“Make a wish, Jubilee.”

I pictured staying home from school forever, wandering around Ivy Cottage and the pond, as Dog and I grew old as redwood trees.

Instead I drew a cartoon of a girl and a dog slurping a dripping ice cream cone. “Yum!” said the balloon over their heads.

“Too early for me,” Aunt Cora said, and we grinned at each other.

I remembered the permission slip then and ran to get it. “Lovely field trip.” She signed her name. She dropped a kiss on my head and was off to work at the church.

I had at least ten minutes before school, a good feeling. I walked out back and helped myself to a plum from a low-hanging branch. Then I walked slowly along the road with Dog.

Sophie was coming out of her house with Travis. I remembered the stone houses we used to build, and felt that pain in my chest.
Nobody wants you.

She saw me and would have kept going, but Travis pulled hard on her hand. “There's my friend, the No-Talk Girl.”

“Shhh.” Sophie gave him a gentle push. “She doesn't talk to us; we don't talk to her.” They walked in front of me, Travis waving over his shoulder.

I made fists, my nails digging into my palms, dropping my papers and Dog's blanket. I picked them up slowly, telling myself I didn't care.

Didn't care!

At the maple tree, I flapped the blanket in the air, then let it settle. Dog settled too.

I headed for the school door and turned to look at Dog, but someone was bending over the blanket.

Mason!

I went back to them, almost running. But Mason had disappeared into the trees.

A thick biscuit lay on the edge of the blanket. Dog scarfed it up in two seconds, his tail waving wildly from right to left. That meant he was happy.

Why had Mason done that?

I hated to leave Dog with Mason still outside somewhere, but the bell would ring soon.

Inside, teachers walked along the hall, calling hello to each other.

My classroom door was still closed, so I backed up, trying to decide whether to go outside again. But Ms. Quirk padded along in sneakers. A canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, and her arms were loaded with books and small notepapers: blues and pinks, plaids and purples.

The folded notes slid onto the floor that was shiny as an ice skating rink, the notes like small birds. “Help,” she said when she saw me.

We scrambled for them, bumping heads. “Sorry.” She smiled. “All my partner papers.”

She threw open the door, and kids piled in behind us.

“It's too beautiful to be stuck in Room Fourteen all day.” She held up her hand. “Drop your permission slips on my desk, and don't forget your homework. And then you'll each get a note with the name of your partner.”

I put my turtle paper and the signed permission slip on the corner of her desk and saw my partner note. I opened it.

Sophie!

My mouth went dry.

I spun around; she was right behind me. I watched as she picked up her paper. It had to have my name!

She shook her head, her lips tight.

I went back to my seat, holding my head up. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mason come in.

He slid into his seat. “Thanks.”

What did he mean?

“For not telling that I was in the boat.”

I raised one shoulder just a bit.

All the notes were taken now. Everyone had a partner. Ms. Quirk clapped her hands. “You're going to work together for the first time today. But now let's get out of here.”

Chairs were scraped back. Harry and Conor raced to the door.

“Do you want the whole school to hear?” Ms. Quirk asked, finger on her lips.

We stood still as statues.

“We're going to the field near the water,” she said. “Take pencils and paper. We're out to find life.” She grinned. “Wild or otherwise.”

She gave out cardboard boxes. “We'll collect treasures at the dunes. Shells that once housed creatures. We'll wave
safe trip
to the red-winged blackbirds that are ready to fly south. Sad for them to leave this beautiful island.”

She tapped her pencil on a pile of extra paper with a click-click sound, and asked Harry to help her carry the canvas bag to the beach. “Snacks, in case we're hungry.”

We marched down the hall, circling Mrs. Ames, and sped out the door, everyone excited: a school day poor Mrs. Leahy would never have imagined.

Outside, it was windy. Leaves and grit blew across the schoolyard; my hair blew too.

“Whew,” Ms. Quirk said. “Fall is coming.”

I hugged my sweater around me as we walked down the path that led to the dunes.

“Freedom!” Harry yelled.

Conor was yelling too.

I took deep breaths, smelling the damp sand and the sharp scent of the sea.

Dog trotted toward me. He knew he couldn't break into the line, so he fell in behind us, and I edged farther back so we could be together.

Sophie was in the middle of the line, walking fast, as if she wanted to catch up to Ms. Quirk. Mason's seaweed sneakers were moving toward the back. A moment later he was next to me, his hand resting on Dog's head.

Dog gave him a smiling look: his mouth open, his tail high and waving.

I tried not to mind.

“What's his name?” Mason asked.

I pretended I didn't hear.

It was almost as if Mason were talking to himself. “Rebel is a good name for a dog. So is John.”

John? I had to smile.

“But this dog?” Mason went on. “This is a terrific dog. I'd call him Faithful.”

Faithful was exactly right. I couldn't help myself. I turned to take a quick look at Mason. Not a bait man's face. It was a regular face with freckles dotting his nose; his eyes were green-gray. His scribble-scrabble shirt had a ripped sleeve. But his nails were clean, probably from being in the water last night.

Ms. Quirk stood at the edge of the sand. The reeds brushed against each other with a crackling sound.

She slipped off her sneakers. “You can take off yours too. But walk around the reeds. We don't want to disturb them.” She tilted her head. “Besides, they're sharp, and so are the shells.”

We left our sneakers in a jumbled pile, while Mason kept talking. “I never had a dog,” he said as Ms. Quirk called, “Spread out. Stay with your partners. What can you find here?”

She raised the silver whistle that hung around her neck. “I'll let you know when it's time to eat.”

I looked for Sophie, but she was standing next to Ms. Quirk, trying to get her attention. How was she going to tell the teacher that she didn't want to be my partner?

I backed away then, and Dog and I wandered around the reeds, careful not to bend them.

I heard Ms. Quirk tell Conor about a shell she always looked for. “It's called a junonia. It loops around itself with brown square markings. Maybe someday I'll find one.”

My bare toe touched something. I bent over to see a messy ball of twigs with a piece of yellow candy wrapper and a few soft feathers threaded inside.

I picked up the nest carefully. One spotted blue egg lay in the center, cracked and empty.

The mother bird and her baby were long gone. I hoped they were together. Gideon told me once that daughter crows came back to their mothers' nests long after they were grown. But this wasn't a crow's nest.

I edged the nest into my cardboard box, but before I could put on the cover, Mason touched my shoulder. “Look at that.”

I jumped.

The nest fell out of the box, and the wind picked it up. It flew, end over end, and disappeared into the tall reeds.

I ran toward it, the sand and sharp shells slowing down my feet, Dog crashing along next to me. But it was gone.

“It's my fault,” Mason told Ms. Quirk. “I ruined her nest. It even had an empty egg. I never do anything right.”

We walked back, passing Sophie, who was bent over, looking at something with Jenna. Conor was picking up a shell, and Ashton called, “Maybe I found a turtle's egg.”

But then, I'd found a nest with an eggshell; I'd run my fingers over the spiky twigs, the cracked shell. Maybe that was enough.

“There's an encyclopedia of birds in the classroom,” Ms. Quirk told me. “You'll be able to find out what kind of a bird it was.”

But I knew from the blue of its egg it was a robin's nest. It must have blown far, because I didn't think robins nested in the low dunes.

Mason made a sound in his throat. A sad one.

It was a sound I might have made sometimes, if only I could have spoken.

I did something that really surprised me. I took a step toward Mason, who'd never had a dog, who believed he never did anything right.

I went close enough so he'd know I wasn't angry about the nest. And I realized something: Mason would never have tried to hit anyone with a ball. His aim was probably terrible.

Ms. Quirk blew her silver whistle and we gathered around her. She gave out chicken sandwiches she'd made herself, and bottles of cool water.

We sank down in the sand, and she made sure there was a sandwich and water even for Dog.