Kathryn Erskine - Mockingbird

Do you mean me? I ask her.

Yes! And don’t talk with your mouth full! she says.

Shane snorts.

I’m serious! Brianna says.

Caitlin, Emma says after she swallows a bite of her hot dog, can you do some drawings for the yearbook?

I don’t know, I say. What kind of drawings?

Her forehead wrinkles. I think drawings in the margins would be good. They could be of things around school.

I think of what’s around school. The grass?

No. Not just grass.

The street?

No. I mean things you see in the classroom or out on the playground. Books. Computers. Desks. Monkey bars. School stuff.

I nod slowly. I could do that.

High five, Emma says. She puts her hand in the air.

I look at it and think about how Michael and Josh high-five.

I put my hand up and Emma slaps it.

It feels weird but in a good way.

You should join the art club in middle school, she says.

There’s an art club?

Sure! Mr. Walters runs it. He’s the art teacher.

I know Mr. Walters.

He’s cool, Emma says.

I nod. I need to draw his eyes.

She shrugs and grins. Okay.

At home our chest is almost done.

I draw what I want to carve into the top part of it. The bird is gray and black and white and has a long tail. Her head is tilted up and her beak is open like she’s singing. She is beautiful. I’m happy because I get my drawing just right. I run to the living room to show it to Dad.

He takes it with one hand and rubs his chin with the other. He sits down on the sofa with an oof. He stares at it. It’s not… It doesn’t look as… detailed as that eagle you drew that won first prize.

It’s not an eagle, I tell him. It’s a mockingbird.

He tilts his head to the side and stares at me. I thought it was an eagle because this is Devon’s Eagle Scout project.

It’s a mockingbird, I explain, like in the movie. Remember? Because Devon was like Jem. And I’m like Scout. And you Dad — you’re like Atticus.

Dad’s eyes fill with water and he blinks a lot and I think maybe he needs to get those funny glasses Atticus wears.

I’M PROUD WHEN I TELL MRS. Brook the chest is done. I also tell her that I have one really good friend which is Michael and one sort of maybe future friend which is Emma. And maybe Mr. Walters.

Mrs. Brook smiles. Do you think you’re coming to Closure?

I think so.

How about your dad?

I think working on the chest helped him too.

I’m very glad you came up with that idea, she says.

I smile because I’m glad too. But then I frown.

What’s wrong?

I don’t think I’ve gotten Closure for Michael.

She sighs. A lot of people still need to find Closure.

Who else?

The whole community Caitlin — especially the students and teachers at Virginia Dare Middle School. Oh! Did you hear? The school board voted to change the school name over the summer.

Why?

There are a lot of bad memories associated with that name. I think they’re trying to find Closure too.

I’m not sure I Get It but I try to figure it out. It doesn’t work. I don’t see how changing the name is going to bring Closure.

No. But it’s a step. Maybe you can come up with something else.

Me? Why me?

Because you’re going there next year. It’s part of your community.

Suddenly I don’t feel so proud anymore. I still need to find Closure for Michael AND I have to find Closure for a whole entire school. And now the community too? How am I going to do all that?

CLOSURE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO feel sad like this.

That night after Dad goes to bed I stay up and stare at the finished chest. Even though it’s finished there’s still something missing and I have to Work At It to figure out what it is. I think Dad is mostly happy that it’s completed and beautiful. I’m mostly happy too. But the chest isn’t helping Michael or the people of the middle school that’s getting a new name this summer or the rest of the whole entire community. I have to figure that out because that’s part of empathy. Even though I didn’t think I’d like empathy it kind of creeps up on you and makes you feel all warm and glowy inside. I don’t think I want to go back to life without empathy.

I put my head under the sofa cushion and stare at the chest so I can think of an answer but instead I think of Devon and I wish he were here so he could tell me the answer and I think about how he can never tell me anything or do anything again — not ride his bike or play baseball or watch To Kill a Mockingbird or be an Eagle Scout.

I hear the crying and then I see Dad’s hand reaching under the sofa cushion and pushing the wet hair out of my eyes. But I can’t stop crying. For Devon. Because of what happened to Devon. Because his life got taken away and he can’t do anything and he can’t be happy or proud or live or love — and all of a sudden my gulp-crying turns into gulp-laughing because I realize something.

Dad-oh! Dad! Oh Dad! I cry.

What is it Caitlin?

Devon, I cry, Devon.

I know. It hurts. You miss him. I miss him.

No, I say, Devon!

I know, he says.

But I’m not crying for ME! I pull my head out from under the sofa cushion and Look At The Person. I’m crying for Devon! I’m crying because I feel bad for HIM! Isn’t that empathy? I’m feeling for HIM instead of me!

Dad smiles even though he has crying eyes. Yes, he says, yes. Now you know what it’s like to feel for other people.

He hugs me and we sit together for a long time on the sofa. Empathy isn’t as hard as it sounds because people have a lot of the same feelings. And it helps to understand other people because then you can actually care about them sometimes. And help them. And have a friend. Like Michael. And do something for them and make them feel as good as you’re feeling.

I look over at Devon’s chest and it makes me feel good. We did a great job on it, I say, didn’t we Dad?

Yes we did.

We made something good and strong and beautiful.

He nods. We sure did. Devon would be very proud.

I nod too. I think about Devon and how he would show it to all the Scouts and tell everyone how we made it and how we used it to find Closure. And when I’m staring at the Mockingbird and seeing her mouth looking up like she’s telling the whole world something THAT’S when I feel my mouth turn into a grin and my hands start shaking so hard I have to leap off the sofa and jump around the room because just shaking my hands isn’t enough for all the excitement because I finally Get It! I Get It! I GET IT!

I DON’T LIKE THE BRIGHT LIGHTS of the middle school auditorium or the loud whispering all around us or having to wear these itchy clothes and I especially don’t like being in the front row with everyone staring at me. Dad said the smiling bald man onstage is the principal but I don’t like him either because he keeps pressing buttons on the microphone making it crackle LOUD and I wish he would stop it. The noise keeps making me want to jump out of my seat and I can’t hold myself down because Dad is sitting next to me grabbing both armrests already so I can’t use the one near me. I put both my hands on the armrest on the other side and try hard not to moan very loud. It must be working because Dad is not telling me to stop. He just sits there with his lips squeezed tight and his fists on the armrests and he stares at the stage.