Once Upon a Time a Sparrow

by Mary Avery Kabrich

  “What’d she look like?”

  “Very big and ugly, like all spiders. But her web was more beautiful than anything you can imagine. And she sort of spoke like Grandma O’Leary during the time she was sick. Her voice was growly with lots of clearing her throat.”

  Mom walks in and looks around. “It’s so nice to see you two getting started right away and getting along so well.”

  Danny and I smile at each other. I wait a few moments for Mom to leave. She might interrupt.

  “Gwendolyn reminded her that dream catchers are important. You see—Mary now has to grow back her reading skills. They left her—but not really.”

  “How can that be?”

  “Danny, if you really believe something’s not possible, it won’t be. Mary can read, but the hope snatchers made it so she no longer believed this.”

  Danny squints his eyes and tilts his head. He’s getting ready to argue about this, so I continue.

  “But she knew how important Ethan’s dream catcher was, so she wanted to learn how to make one. Gwendolyn told her she first had to practice.”

  “Practice making dream catchers?”

  “No. Remember how Yram tricked Ethan into practice running and how it worked?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, Gwendolyn told Mary she also has to practice so that she can start believing again. So, Mary finally asks Ethan for help, and he tells her about a special teacher, one who believes in fairies and is fun and very good at teaching reading.”

  “But you said she was afraid to tell Ethan about her not reading.”

  “Oh . . . that’s true. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t smart. But after talking to Gwendolyn, she knew she needed help. But what she really wanted was to find Yram because she hoped that Yram would do some quick magic.” I pause to look at Danny, wondering if he remembers that Yram didn’t do magic to help Ethan run. I can’t tell. “Mary begs Ethan, ‘Please, can’t you tell me where Yram is?’ And Ethan says, ‘I don’t know. I just know she is hiding, and she’s busy making her magnum opus.’”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your teacher hasn’t read you Charlotte’s Web?”

  “No.”

  “Well, Charlotte is the wisest spider around, except for Gwendolyn. Magnum opus is the word she uses to mean her masterpiece. This’s what Yram told Ethan that she was doing in hiding—making her magnum opus. So anyway, Ethan then tells her about this special teacher who is good friends with Yram. He tells her how to go and see her. What Mary really needs is the teaching. But her hope was that this teacher would tell her where Yram was.

  “The teacher’s name is . . . uh. . . Teacher Elly. She is shorter than I am and has a big smile, red cheeks, and ears that look like they are elf ears.”

  “Elf ears? You mean she’s really an elf?”

  “Let’s just say she’s not like the teachers at our school. She is really different. And yeah, she is an elf.”

  Danny smiles at this. “Neato. That’s why she’s short, right?”

  “Yep. When Mary shows up, all she wants to do is find Yram. She starts off by saying, ‘I was sent here by Ethan, and I’m supposed to meet with Yram. Please let her know I’m here.’ Well, this teacher is a good teacher. She’s fun, but she’s also serious about her lessons, so she says, ‘Not until my lesson is over. You may have a seat.’ Mary wasn’t expecting this.”

  “I wouldn’t either if my teacher looked like an elf.”

  I giggle and try to imagine elf ears on Mrs. Zinc. “Mary didn’t pay attention to the funny elf ears. She was mad because she wanted to meet Yram right away. So she didn’t even try to learn.”

  “But she should have.”

  “Yep. She should have, but do you ever . . . I’m thinking of how Mom says it. She sometimes says you get stubborn and cut off your nose to spite your face.”

  “I don’t remember her saying that, and I don’t know what it means.”

  “It’s when you really want to go to town, but since Jack grabs the front seat before you do, you get stubborn and say you’re not going after all.”

  “But that has nothing to do with my nose.”

  “I know. It’s kind of weird. But even though Mary knows she needs to get back to learning to read, she had her hopes up about seeing Yram right away. So, at first she tried not to pay attention. But this teacher is so fun and exciting, she couldn’t help but learn!”

  Danny claps and yells out, “That’s because her teacher is really an elf!”

  I grin at him.

  ~CHAPTER 40~

  1967

  I’M WRAPPED in a dark mossy-smelling green thickness. I want to snuggle in deep, bury myself, but where is the edge of the blanket to pull up? I stumble forward, searching. I’m dizzy and stumble upon a log. I tumble to the soft dark ground. Looking up, I see light and color. I reach for the log, move toward it, pulling myself onto it. I gaze at the light and see threads of a gigantic quilt, colorful, and like the moon, shining in the darkness. My chest grows heavy. I’m missing Grandma.

  “Grandma. Grandma, I need you!”

  “My sweet potato, no need to worry.” It’s Grandma’s voice, but all I see is a huge web of threads.

  “Grandma, where are you?” I want to feel the tightness of her arms around me. I want to bury my face in her softness. I wrap my arms around my knees.

  “Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m part of this web. And so are you.”

  “No, I’m not. Yram and Ethan need my help, and I can’t help because I can’t read.” I squeeze myself tighter and press my forehead to my knees.

  “My sweet potato, you forget who you are.”

  I shake my head and then try to bury it between my knees.

  “The stories. The stories you tell are beautiful.”

  I close my eyes, remembering Uncle Joe sharing with Danny why he calls me Sister Bard. He always likes my stories.

  “But Grandma, why can’t I read?”

  “But sweet potato, you can. Remember, believe anything is possible through a special secret.”

  “I read those words.”

  “You sure did, and you also read ‘change form.’ We all change form.”

  My alarm rings. I slam it off and then lie in bed trying to hold on to my dream. I squirm around and look up at my dream catcher, then out my window at the leaves on the oak tree that are now double in size. I think of the dragonfly. We all change form. I miss her. I miss Grandma O’Leary more than anything. I bury my face into my pillow and weep until I hear Father’s knock and then voice at my door.

  “Madelyn, are you up? It’s time to get going.”

  The bell ending our last recess of the day has just rung. I hang back and look for a stray ball, and I find one. Instead of lining up, I volunteer to take it to Mr. Griffin’s ball bin, right next to the closet with Mrs. Ellen. I pass her closet, but the door is closed. I plop the ball into Mr. Griffin’s bin and return to Mrs. Ellen’s space, but the door is still shut. I really want it to be open. I planned for her to be waiting for me. But now I need to get back to class before Mrs. Zinc notices. I stand, not knowing what to do. And then I decide to knock. I knock, and it opens.

  “Madelyn, what a surprise.”

  “Mrs. Ellen, I was just returning one of Mr. Griffin’s balls, and I wanted to tell you something.”

  “What is it, dear?”

  “Mrs. Ellen, can I see you every day? I think it’s working.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’d love that, but I see kids from all the different grades, and there just isn’t enough time to pull you out any more than twice a week.”

  “What if I come in during recess time?” I can see that she’s alone in the closet, so she does have time for me.

  “Now that’s an idea. But would you want to miss your recess?”

  “I don’t mind.” I’d rather miss recess than do third grade all over again.

  Mrs. Zinc usually puts on an excited face just before she begins to read to us—even if it’s a boring
story about a girl named Laura living on the banks of Plum Creek and what it used to be like living in Minnesota way before my parents were even born. Today, Mrs. Zinc looks like she has swallowed a handful of sour grapes. It means we’re in trouble. After everyone settles into sitting as still as statues, she begins, not with the story, but by saying, “Class, I have a concern to share with you. Mrs. Smith in Room Twelve has asked to borrow The Fairy Angel’s Gift.”

  My heart flips in my chest and thumps so hard I’m sure Paulette will hear it. Then I remember her messy pile of papers has been cleared away. But still . . .

  “When I went to get it for her, I discovered it’s no longer where I placed it.”

  I gasp. Paulette whips around and stares at me. I cover my mouth pretending to stop the hiccups.

  “I believe someone took it. In fact, I think I might know who took it.” She stands quiet and looks at all of us. “But I’ll wait to see if this student chooses to do the right thing and return it.”

  Now I grip the sides of the chair. Yes, I’m still sitting. My heart’s behaving as if I just galloped faster than ever to upper field.

  The class is dead quiet except for my pounding heart and Bobby fiddling with something inside his desk. I shoot him a quick look. Had he seen me and did he tattle? I try to breathe normally. I can’t return the book. Not now. Mrs. Zinc had tossed it in a pile of junk. How can she remember where she had put it? Saint Rita, I didn’t sin, did I? I was saving the book.

  A finger pokes into my ribs. Mrs. Zinc’s now reading the boring story, and usually I’d be making up my own with Ethan and Yram. I turn to Paulette, who motions me with her hand to lean over.

  She whispers hotly in my ear, “Don’t tell anyone: Bobby took it. I saw him. I’m going to tell on him tomorrow if he doesn’t return it on his own.”

  When I look at her, she gives that I-know-everything smirk, and it sends a shiver down my spine. She must have seen him sneaking back into the classroom.

  Please, Saint Rita, don’t let Bobby get in trouble. He’ll kill me when he finds out.

  “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit . . .” Father’s deep voice leads us in prayer while the smell of Pillsbury biscuits makes our stomachs rumble. As soon as Jack has piled his plate with tuna casserole, he begins to brag about his new reading group. I try to shut him out and think about how exciting it was to read the words special web and then discover the most amazing web ever. The thunderous roar of Uncle Joe’s truck brings me back to dinner. Now I wish I hadn’t asked for a second helping; I no longer feel hungry.

  “Hiya, all,” Uncle Joe calls in his usual cheerful voice.

  Danny and Jack yell out “Hi.” I keep my eyes on my plate of food.

  “Whatcha got cooking? Whatever it is, it sure smells wonderful.”

  “Tuna casserole and biscuits,” Jack yells.

  “It’s my favorite,” Danny says.

  “Uncle Joe, I found some more pieces for the go-cart,” Rob says.

  “Great. We’ll be in good shape for Saturday afternoon.”

  “Uncle Joe, are you going to be living with us forever?” Danny asks. He holds a forkful of food midway between his plate and mouth.

  “Danny, my jester, I’d love to live in this beautiful palace forever. Especially with you entertaining me all the time.”

  “Will you? Stay forever?” Danny is serious.

  “I can’t. Consider this an extra-long visit. I have a place of my own that I need to get back to. But I sure enjoy being part of this wonderful kingdom.”

  Now everyone’s focused on dinner, and I begin to take small bites of my second helping. I’m thinking of how Ethan kept getting better and better at walking and how exciting it was for him to fly with Yram.

  “Madelyn, how was school for you today?” Mom asks.

  “Okay,” I say, hoping to not talk about it anymore.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you. How’s it going with your new teacher?”

  “You have a new teacher?” Jack asks. Everyone stops eating and looks surprised, as if I’ve been keeping a big secret.

  “No,” I say, “not really.” Mrs. Ellen isn’t a new teacher, just a helper, and I’m about to say this when Father fills in the empty space.

  “Madelyn’s lucky. A special teacher is working with her to help her get caught up with reading.”

  Before I can stop myself, I talk back. “But I don’t really need a special teacher.” It comes out so fast and sure, I hardly recognize my own voice. No one else seems to either. For a brief moment, it’s dead quiet. What I want to share are all the big words I’ve figured out by myself and that I’m also reading a chapter book all on my own, but looking up and meeting Father’s eyes, I know he won’t believe me.

  “Madelyn, you do need help, and I don’t want to hear another thing about it,” Father says. My eyes pretend to look at my food, and still I feel Uncle Joe staring at me. I start to take another small bite, but I’m too full to eat any more.

  Uncle Joe stands leaning against the entryway to the kitchen while I go from the table to the sink bringing the dishes in. I know he wants to say something, but I don’t feel like talking. I don’t even look at him.

  “Madelyn,” he says. I try to figure out what voice he’s using: the fun one or the angry one. Maybe in between. “Hey, if you have some sort of special teacher, I think that’s great.”

  So what. I walk past him, looking straight ahead at the dinner table, stack up the plates, and walk by again without looking.

  “Your father’s right. You’re lucky to have a special teacher. It’s a good thing.”

  I grab the dishpan and start filling it with water. Uncle Joe sounds more like Father than like my favorite uncle. He stands watching me quietly and then walks out of the kitchen. I turn off the water and wish I had at least said Mrs. Ellen is nice.

  “Mom told me I need to help you,” Danny says, arriving late like usual. “I’ll dry the silverware when you get them washed.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I know,” he proclaims, as if he has come up with an answer to some unspoken question. “You can tell me how the story ends. You never did.”

  “I need more time to think about it. But I’m remembering some parts Mrs. Zinc read that I never shared. Do you want to hear?”

  “Okay,” he says.

  I put some silverware in the drying rack, and I motion to him to get started. “Remember how I told you that Ethan really did have something wrong with his heart and that’s why his parents were always worried?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, ever since he met Yram, he started getting out of bed more. Sometimes at night, he’d chase after her and go on adventures. Those were the times he wasn’t so sure it was real. But during the day, he was also getting up more often to see if he could. He kept trying to do more.”

  “I know. You told me that. So, what happens?”

  “Well, I was remembering something I didn’t tell you, and it’s important. When he went to his doctor for a checkup, they said he still had a bad heart, but it had gotten stronger. It’s like . . . he kept growing it or something. He made it get better little by little.”

  “Then what?”

  “That’s what I was remembering. That he kept working on getting stronger, and he did. Yram helped, but Ethan was also helping himself.”

  ~CHAPTER 41~

  2005

  THE DOOR CREAKS, and Wilma looks up from her desk with a pair of readers perched precariously upon the end of her nose, and a pile of second-grade papers stacked in front of her.

  “Good morning,” I say, glancing at the plate-sized clock on the opposite wall. It’s ten after eight; we have another five minutes before Chase’s parents arrive.

  “I was just trying to find his unit math test. He got one of the best scores.” She resumes her search, punctuating each passing page with an audible click of her tongue. I snag a couple more chairs from surrounding desks and move them over to the table in the back of th
e room.

  “You’re quite right about Chase’s artistic abilities,” Wilma says. “Look.” She points to a colorful poster illustrating planet Earth surrounded by a ring of animals drawn in detail . The words DON’T LITTER IT’S BAD FOR THE EARTH are printed across the top—all in capitals. He’s clever. Write in caps and you don’t have to deal with the confusion between d’s and b’s. “Other than help with spelling the words, this was his idea and design.”

  I walk over and take a closer look.

  It has been three weeks since I apologized to Wilma for insulting her during my observation of Chase. His freckled face, erupting into red blotches as he tried to read the words, continued to haunt me. A talk with last year’s teacher convinced me to take what I saw in Wilma’s room seriously. Upon suggesting I evaluate Chase, everything changed between Wilma and me.

  Wilma’s phone rings. I head for the office to meet Mr. and Mrs. Babcock. I recognize Mr. Babcock at once: Chase’s red hair, green eyes. I imagine freckles on a younger face. Dressed in cargo pants and a plaid shirt, he hangs back under a cloud of discomfort. Mrs. Babcock immediately reaches to shake my hand. She’s wearing a tight skirt and jacket, costume jewelry, and a frosted lipstick smile that seems out of place.

  We walk down the gleaming yellow-and gray-tiled hall toward Wilma’s class. Mrs. Babcock’s heels click half a step behind me. Mr. Babcock’s soles don’t make a sound. My gut tells me it’s best to start with the conclusion and gloss over the gloomy details surrounding the severe discrepancy. I can’t help but feel strongly sentimental toward Burt Babcock—a visage of Uncle Joe. I wonder if I should start this meeting by sharing that I used to teach students who struggled with reading and then move on to some success stories. I glance out the window at the playground and notice a girl hanging upside down on the bars, a zipped-up black jacket bunched around her upper body. My stomach knots as the image of Maddie doing what she loved the most in third grade wells up inside me.