Kathryn Erskine - Mockingbird

No. I mean I don’t Get how that makes Closure.

We’re bringing the project to Closure. We’re finishing the chest. That’s Closure.

Oh. But his eyes are still fuzzy. Will I feel better when it’s done?

I think about it for a minute. I’m pretty sure I’ll feel better. Much better than seeing it covered by a gray sheet in the corner. And I think Dad will feel better too. I know Devon would want it finished. I look at Michael with his fuzzy Bambi eyes and I’m not so sure how finishing the chest will help him. And it’s giving me a recess feeling in my stomach.

He shrugs. That’s okay.

But it doesn’t sound okay. And my stomach doesn’t feel okay.

You’re still my friend, he says softly.

I am? Why?

You’re nice to me and you don’t have to be ’cause you’re a fifth grader and you can do stuff like Closure and I’m only a first grader so I can only do stuff like be a pear.

A pair of what?

No. A pear. Like an apple.

Oh. Can I see you be a pear?

He Looks At The Person. You really want to see me be a pear?

Yes.

He starts to smile. You want to come to my play?

What play?

My class is doing a play about the food pyramid. I’m the pear. It’s my favorite fruit. Do you want to come watch?

When is it?

Tonight. At school. Can you come?

I don’t like going back to school once I’m already home. It’s like having school twice in one day. But Michael is finally looking happy so I decide the answer should be, Okay.

My teacher said you have to be here with your costume by six thirty sharp. Oh. Except you don’t have to get here until seven because you’re one of the watchers.

Audience, I say.

Michael gives me a high five and he’s smiling so much that I feel like a good friend again. I’m happy because of Michael. He’s the only friend I have and maybe the only friend I’ll ever have.

THAT NIGHT WHEN WE’RE WORKING on the chest I tell Dad, I have to go to school tonight.

Tonight? What for?

Michael is in a play.

Who’s Michael?

My friend.

Your friend? Do I know him?

I shrug and wonder how I’m supposed to know that. He’s in first grade, I tell him.

And he’s your friend?

Yes. So I HAVE to go to his play. It’s important. It’s at seven o’clock.

Dad looks at his watch. It’s almost quarter to seven already.

I stand up fast . Then we have to go NOW because it takes almost nine minutes to get to school.

Caitlin —

I don’t want to be LATE.

You should’ve told me before —

It is before. But we have to MOVE!

I wasn’t planning on going out tonight.

You don’t have to plan! It’s already planned!

I run to the door and open it. I’ll be IN THE CAR! I run across the grass and pull on the car door but it won’t open. I run around to all four doors. They are all locked. IT’S LOCKED IT’S LOCKED IT’S LOCKED IT’S LOCKED!

I hear the front door slam and Dad’s shoes clomping fast. I’M COMING!

HURRY! HURRY!

The car beeps. The lights turn on and I open the door and throw myself inside.

Dad gets in the front seat and turns on the engine.

DRIVE! DRIVE!

He makes the engine go LOUD and whips around to me. I’m glad there is a seat back between us because he is trying to get into my Personal Space.

Caitlin! I’m not happy about this. Next time I need some warning —

I’M WARNING YOU! I say in my warning voice.

CAITLIN!

DRIVE! DRIVE! FAST! NOW!

He lurches out of the driveway and I’m thrown off the backseat.

PUT ON YOUR SEAT BELT! he yells.

DON’T YELL! I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE YELL!

Dad mutters a lot of things but I can’t hear them and I don’t care because at least he’s not yelling.

What time is it NOW Dad?

We have plenty of time.

WHAT TIME IS IT?

IT’S — he stops and takes a breath — it’s six forty-eight.

We’ll get there at six fifty-seven. Unless you HURRY then maybe we can get there at six fifty-six. Then we have to park and walk inside.

Where is the play?

I TOLD YOU! At SCHOOL!

I know, he hisses, but where in the school?

I freeze. Cafeteria? Gym? Classroom? I DON’T KNOW! OH NOOOOO!

Dad switches to his Nice Voice fast. We’ll find it. It’s okay. It’s okay. And we’ll get there in plenty of time. No problem. You’ll see Michael. And Michael will be happy to see you. It’s great to have a friend. Isn’t it? I’m really proud of you.

He keeps talking but I don’t listen. I just moan and chew and suck my sleeve until we pull into the school and he says, Ahh the lights are on in the cafeteria and lots of people and little kids are there so that’s where it is. You see? Everything is okay.

Dad pulls into a Handicapped Spot right by the cafeteria door and I tell him, You can’t park here, but he turns off the engine and opens his door and says, This counts.

He opens my door and says, Come on. We made it.

There is no place left to sit where I can actually see Michael who is dressed in a smashed cardboard box that’s painted yellow to look like a pear. Sort of. I have to stand against the wall by the OUT door. I hate standing up. It makes my feet hurt. And I can smell the wet cafeteria smell and the lights are too bright.

At least I’m farther away from the noisy people. They are all talking LOUD about anything. I hear security system and school board and babysitter and nightmares and ulcer and high fiber. Not one person says food pyramid or dairy product or candy or anything about why they are here. They are worse than my class because most of the time we at least know what the subject is. They might as well go home if they don’t want to be here. That’s what Mrs. Johnson says.

Finally Mrs. Hanratty the kindergarten teacher gets up and tells everyone about healthy eating and the play begins and the people finally focus — their cameras at least.

Michael looks around the room and I know he is looking for me so I raise my hand high and close and open it three times and then six before he notices and waves back with a big grin on his face.

Afterward I tell Michael he looks like a pear even though he looks more like a kid in a squished cardboard box. The part about the squished box I just think in my head.

I think that makes him happy because he smiles. And he says, You’re like my big sister.

It makes me feel kind of warm and glowy on the inside.

Wait here! he says, and is back a moment later dragging a man. This is my dad.

You must be Caitlin. It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you, Michael’s dad says.

I don’t like football, I tell him.

Oh, he says.

But it’s okay if you do. I remember to smile.

Thank you! He smiles at me too and so does Michael.

Then Dad and Michael’s dad talk for a long time while Michael and I try to make the food pyramid out of all the snacks. It’s really hard to get brownies to balance on top of carrot sticks though.

On the drive home I think about Michael being dressed up as a pear and how that’s better than having to dress up as a ham like Scout did in To Kill a Mockingbird.