Fiona said she was sorry. “I’m just worried is all.”
Cleo patted Fiona’s arm. “If we see a dog that’s by itself, without an owner, no matter what kind of brown it is, we should probably just get it. You know, to be safe.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Milo. He pointed to the clock on the tower. “It’s six o’clock. Everybody meets back here in an hour. With or without a brown dog.”
• • •
Fiona watched Cleo, Harold, and Milo take off in opposite directions. She was on her own again. After taking a deep breath, she continued looking for Mayflower. There were lots of dogs at the park, but none was the dog she was missing.
As the sun began to set, Fiona found herself by the pond. Tom and Flo’s bench was empty, and Fiona thought that she must have been such a bother that Tom decided to watch the sunset from some other spot just so she wouldn’t find them. She lay down on the bench and stared up at the orange sky.
Tom was right: It was a good view from here. And then Fiona remembered. There was another place where Tom said you could see the sunset. She sat up with a spark and flew off the bench. She followed the path all the way to the other end of the park. The old fountain was three tiers tall and at the topmost tier, a metal fish spouted water from its puckered lips.
And in front of the fountain, a bench. Fiona gasped when she saw who was there. “Mayflower!” She raced to the bench and dove to the ground, where Mayflower was asleep at Tom’s feet. “Where have you been?”
Mayflower yawned and licked Fiona’s face like he was wondering what took her so long to get there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
Fiona cradled Mayflower’s head in her arms, then got to her feet. Flo let out a cluck and then hopped down from Tom’s lap to nestle in beside Mayflower’s front paws. “They’re friends,” said Fiona.
Tom nodded. “Guess so.”
They watched people at the park for a while. Every now and then someone came up to Tom and asked about Flo. When Tom was quiet, Fiona covered for him and explained that Flo walks on a leash because she thinks she’s a dog.
“Maybe Flo knows she’s a chicken but wants to be a dog,” Fiona said to Tom.
“Maybe,” he said.
Right about then a woman came up to them, handed them a flyer, and said, “The Great Ordinary Fair is Ordinary’s biggest event. You don’t want to miss it!”
Fiona looked at the flyer and groaned. “The only thing I’m going to miss is having any fun at the fair when I’m handing out maps to nobody and staring at a bunch of flowers.” She handed the flyer to Tom. “You should enter Flo.”
“I’m working the poultry pavilion,” said Tom. “Can’t enter Flo. That would be against the rules.”
“The poultry pavilion?”
Flo clucked and Tom nodded. “The Ordinary Humane Society; that’s where I volunteer. This year they put me in charge of fowls.”
“At least it’s not maps.”
“I guess,” he said. “I wanted to be in charge of the alpaca center. But since I have a chicken, that’s where they put me. There’s always next year, I suppose.”
“That’s what everybody tells me all the time,” said Fiona. “After they say no.”
Tom leaned back on the bench and sighed.
Flo nested against Mayflower and scratched his belly with her beak. Mayflower pushed at Flo with his paw and then whined. “Who ever heard of a dog being friends with a chicken?”
“Not me,” said Tom.
“Me neither.”
• Chapter 14 •
Fiona led Mayflower through the park to the clock tower, where Milo, Cleo, and Harold were waiting.
“Is that Mayflower?” said Cleo, running over to her. “Where did you find him?”
“He was with Flo,” said Fiona. “I guess he wanted to watch the sunset with them.”
Harold bent down and looked at Mayflower. “You said he was brown! He’s not brown. He’s red!”
Cleo cracked her knuckles. “Oh, Harold.”
Milo took a step toward Fiona. “Okay, where’s the chicken boy?”
Fiona pointed to the other end of the park. “Over there.”
“Let’s go,” said Milo.
“It’s going to be dark soon,” said Fiona. “And I have to get Mayflower back to Mrs. Lordeau’s house.”
“Then we’ll go,” said Milo.
Cleo said, “I have to get to the restaurant. My mom and dad will be wondering where I am.”
“Fine,” said Milo. “Harold and me will go.”
“He won’t be there.” Fiona pointed to the small band of orange left in the sky. “They only stay for the sunset.”
Harold gripped his camera and moaned. “Grandma is going to be really disappointed. Now I’ll have to let her win at Scrabble so I won’t feel so guilty.”
“Sorry,” said Fiona. “I guess you’ll have to meet him another time.”
“If there really is a chicken boy,” said Milo.
Fiona smiled and shrugged.
• • •
After school the next day, the Bingo Broads were waiting for Fiona in the parking lot. Mrs. O’Brien was in the driver’s seat, and Mrs. Miltenberger, Mrs. Huff, and Mrs. Lordeau were in the back.
“How’s my girl?” said Mrs. Miltenberger.
“Fine and dandy,” said Fiona. But then she saw Mrs. Lordeau’s foot. “Where’s the boot?”
“Gone for good,” said Mrs. Lordeau. “We just came from the doctor’s. She said that my leg is healing up lovely. So lovely that I don’t need that ugly old boot any longer.” She looked at her bare foot stuffed into a flip-flop. “Toes, oh, how I’ve missed seeing you.”
Fiona smiled as Mrs. Lordeau wiggled her toes.
“So,” said Mrs. Miltenberger quietly. She put her hand on Fiona’s knee. “Mrs. Lordeau will be able to walk Mayflower from now on.”
“Oh,” said Fiona when she understood what that meant: that she wouldn’t be walking Mayflower from now on.
“I’m sorry, lovey,” said Mrs. Lordeau. “But the doctor wants me to get as much exercise as I can now. To get back my strength. And you knew this was only temporary, right?”
Fiona nodded. It was hard not to feel like she fell right on her face.
“Maybe this afternoon you could show me where you take Mayflower,” said Mrs. Lordeau. “How does that sound?”
Fiona swallowed hard. “Sounds fine.” Only it flat-out didn’t.
• • •
“You handled that very well,” said Mrs. Miltenberger to Fiona when they got home. “I know you’re disappointed that you don’t have your dog-walking job anymore, so it was good of you to be so nice about it when Mrs. Lordeau told you.”
Fiona checked on Mr. Funbucket. He was as much of a fish as ever. She sighed. “Even though I wouldn’t want this to happen, do you think one day she might slip and hurt her other leg and I’ll get to walk Mayflower again?”
“Fiona!”
“I said that I wouldn’t want it to happen.” If there was the slightest chance that someday, sometime in the future, she might be able to get her job back, then it would make her feel a little bit less awful. And that eventually, someday, she would be closer to being a grown-up.
Mrs. Miltenberger smiled. “I suppose there is a chance. Considering how clumsy she is. But don’t tell her I said that.”
“Okay,” said Fiona.
“Does that help?”
Fiona nodded. “A little.”
“Tell you what,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “I’ll drive you over to Mrs. Lordeau’s. And maybe we’ll swing by the creamery for a milk shake.”
• Chapter 15 •
The day before the grand opening of the Great Ordinary Fair, Mr. Bland’s class took a school bus to the fairgrounds. They unloaded at the front gate. Fiona got off the bus and stared at the giant O of the Ferris wheel at the center of the fair. Cars poured through the gate and people rushed about setting up food stands, arts-and-crafts booths, and gam
es.
“Cheer up,” said Cleo. “We’re out of school and at the fair.”
Fiona couldn’t help it. She felt lousy about having to give out maps to nobody and about not having a job anymore. And she really missed seeing Mayflower and Flo and Tom.
Cleo took a deep breath. “Do you smell that?”
“What?” said Harold.
“Fair food,” said Cleo. “Like funnel cakes and corn dogs. Yum.”
“Where are all the animals?” said Milo.
Cleo pointed to the other end of the fairgrounds, beyond the Ferris wheel. “All the way over there.”
“There’s even a birthing station over there, where you can see animals get born,” said Fiona. “That’s where I wanted my map station to be.”
“Whoa,” said Milo. “Cool.”
Harold shook his head. “That’s what I thought last year, until I saw a cow have a cow. And I almost lost my corn dog.”
Mr. Bland said, “Gather around, people. Gather around.”
Cleo grabbed Fiona’s hand, and they huddled around Mr. Bland.
He pulled a rubber band off a stack of paper and then handed the pages to Harold. “Take one and pass them along. These are your map stations, in case you’ve forgotten where you’ve been assigned. You and your partners are to go to your station and get familiar with what’s nearby. We’re doing this so that there won’t be any confusion tomorrow when the fair is open to the public. There will be enough going on here, so I want everybody to know exactly where they are supposed to be. Got it?”
“Got it,” everybody said.
“Stay with your partner.” Mr. Bland looked at his watch. “I want you all back here in fifteen minutes.”
Cleo squeezed Fiona’s hand.
“On your mark, get set, go,” said Mr. Bland. And everybody took off in different directions.
“Let’s go,” said Fiona, pulling on Cleo’s arm. “This way.” They made their way past the games, past the carnival rides, past the tractors and flower sellers, and all the way to no-man’s-land. Fiona pointed to their station when it came into view. “There’s Bridget’s Mums,” she said.
“I’m hungry,” said Cleo. “There’s a pretzel stand over there. Want to split one?”
Fiona nodded and dug in her pocket for some change. Cleo went off to the pretzel stand, and then Fiona remembered. “No mustard,” she called to her. And then Fiona’s feet stopped. Down at the other end of the food vendors, she spotted a chicken in a crowd of people. Not a chicken turning on a skewer all cooked and barbecued, but one with feathers, alive, and walking around on a leash. “Flo!”
Fiona ran toward her. She raced past the food stands, dodging workers putting up tents and firing outdoor ovens. She kept her eyes on Flo. The crowd parted as Fiona got closer, and there was Tom. His back was to Fiona as he started to lead Flo away.
Fiona shouted, “Wait!” as she ran. Tom and Flo seemed to turn around at the same time, and as soon as Tom saw who was shouting, he picked up Flo and braced her with his arm.
“Saw you coming,” said Tom.
Fiona gently smoothed her fingers over Flo’s back and wings. Flo tucked her head under her wing. “What’s the matter, girl? Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Tom cupped his hand over Flo’s head. “I’m worried about her. She’s not eating. Won’t even take food out of my hand.” He shook his head and chewed on his lip. “Something’s wrong, I just know it.”
“She’s sick?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Something’s not right.” He hugged Flo tight to him and nuzzled her feathers with his nose. “I’ve got to get back.”
Fiona watched as they disappeared into the crowd.
• Chapter 16 •
I wish I could go to the fair today,” said Max, after gargling his orange juice and spitting it back into his glass.
“Don’t do that again,” said Mrs. Miltenberger. “And you’ll get to go next year when you’re in second grade.”
“It’s not as fun as you think when you have to work there,” said Fiona, poking at her scrambled eggs.
“You mean like having a job?” said Mrs. Miltenberger, smirking. “I thought someone wanted a job.”
“Who?” said Max. “Who wanted a job?”
“Beats me,” said Fiona. “I don’t know who that was.”
• • •
In the first hour of the Great Ordinary Fair, Fiona and Cleo handed out only one map. Nobody came to that end of the fairgrounds. Why would they? Except to haul a mum all over the place, and nobody wanted to do that.
“This is terrible,” said Fiona.
Cleo cracked her knuckles. “At least we’re not in school.”
Fiona knew Cleo had a point. But still. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Let’s make paper airplanes and see whose flies the farthest.”
She and Cleo each folded a map into a paper airplane. Cleo made tiny tears on the wings and held hers above her head when she finished. “My plane’s got special wings.”
“You go first,” said Fiona.
Cleo spit on her fingers and then worked the nose of the airplane into a sharp point. “Okay. Here goes.” She cocked her arm and then sprang the plane forward. The plane sailed through the air, catching some wind, and then did a nosedive into the side of a trash can.
“Good one.” Fiona readied her plane and blew on it for good luck. Then she brought her arm back and launched the plane forward. Her plane took off and soared. Right into the stomach of Mr. Bland.
Mr. Bland picked up the plane, turned it over, and handed it back to Fiona. “This belongs to you?”
“Sorry,” said Fiona. “It wasn’t supposed to hit you in the stomach.”
“Where was it supposed to hit me, then?” said Mr. Bland. But before he let Fiona answer, he said, “Never mind. Girls, when I said our class was going to hand out maps, I did not mean by throwing them at people.”
“Sorry,” Fiona said again.
“Yeah, sorry,” said Cleo.
“I came to tell you that you can take a break for lunch,” he said. “You’ve got an hour.”
“But nobody comes back here,” said Fiona. “We’ve only given away one map!”
“Then you might just have to try harder,” he said as he walked away.
“Lunchtime,” said Cleo.
Fiona’s stomach grumbled. “Just in time.”
“What do you want?” said Cleo. She pointed to a food stand at the end of their path. “I think that’s a hot dog stand over there.”
Fiona shook her head. “Chicken.”
“What?”
“I want to go see how Flo is doing.” Fiona looked at her map and quickly found the Poultry Pavilion. She took off at a run and weaved in and out of the crowds. She ran past the Ordinary Ferris wheel, past the games, past the tractors, and past the birthing center. The Poultry Pavilion was easy to spot. It had a giant metal chicken sitting on the roof. The door was propped open with a brick. She ducked inside.
The Poultry Pavilion was packed full of birds—hens, roosters, and turkeys, all in metal cages. Fiona had never seen so many birds in one place before. Some were all white, some were all black, and some looked just like Flo—brown with a red comb on top of their heads.
Tom was perched on a wooden stool in the corner. In a room full of chickens, Fiona thought he would be in chicken heaven, but something was wrong. She looked around. “Where’s Flo?”
Tom shook his head. “I had to leave her at home.”
“You left her at home?”
He put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong. She’s never been like this before. Never before.”
Fiona tried to cheer him up. “She’ll be okay. Last month I had the stomach flu and didn’t want to eat anything for an entire day. And then when I felt better, I ate a whole pizza all by myself.”
“I shouldn’t have left her alone. I’ve never left her alone before. She won’t know what’s going on. She’s got to be wondering where I am.” T
om stood up. “Fiona, I need you to do me a big favor. I need you to watch over these birds while I go home and check on Flo.”
It was the Mayflower incident all over again. “But I can’t!”
“Then I’ll just have to go.”
“But won’t you get in trouble?” said Fiona. “You’re supposed to be in charge of the Poultry Pavilion.”
“I’ve got to go see about Flo.” Tom headed for the door.
“Okay,” said Fiona. “I’ll do it. I’ll watch them. But you’re coming back, right?”
“I’ll be right back.” Tom looked at the big clock on the wall above the door. “The birds are being judged in an hour, but I’ll be back way before then. I just need to check to make sure Flo’s okay.”
“I have to be back at my map station in an hour,” she told him.
“Then we’re good,” he said. “Look, all you have to do is just watch them.”
“Easy peasy,” Fiona said.
• Chapter 17 •
Only five minutes had passed since Tom left, but when all there was to do was stare at chickens in cages, five minutes seemed like a gazillion years. Especially when all of the chickens started looking at Fiona in a way that made Fiona think they wanted something.
Hundreds of tiny black beady eyes wouldn’t stop staring at her. Fiona figured that the birds didn’t understand why they were stuck in these cages, all cooped up with no room to run or explore. It wasn’t their fault they were chickens, after all.
The more they stared at her, the more Fiona got to thinking. The chickens probably felt like everybody was against them. What they needed was for someone to be on their side. They just wanted to be able to do something on their own, like go to California, or not even that so much. They just wanted people to stop saying no all the time just because they were chickens. All they wanted was to hear a yes once in a while. That’s all!
Fiona knelt beside the chicken closest to her. The hen’s short body was covered in long white feathers, and she had a tuft of white feathers that stood straight up on her head like a hat. The chicken rested its head against the side of the cage and was nearly eye-to-eye with Fiona. “I know. It’s no fun being in a cage.” She scratched its head, and the chicken clucked. Fiona looked at the tag tied around the chicken’s ankle: PP072539. The number matched the tag clipped to the top of the cage. “Don’t you have a name?”
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