Feathered

by Deborah Kerbel

  I bite my lip, wondering what to say to that. I feel like maybe I should apologize to her, even though I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t even know anything about India.

  “So why do you like me?” she presses.

  “Well, because you’re nice,” I say simply. “And funny. And … and because you like me back.”

  I know it’s not much of an answer, but I guess maybe it’s enough, because she nods and smiles and pushes a book into my hands before I can say anything more. “I have to go now, but this is for you,” she says. “I was going to leave it in your mailbox, but this is better.”

  “Oh,” I say, examining the cover. There’s a picture of a brown-haired girl smiling and hugging a doll. The title says Little House in the Big Woods.

  “It’s the first Laura Ingalls book,” she explains. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Thanks.” I scan the picture for anything familiar, but from what I can see, there’s no prairie. There are no hair braids. No Nellie Oleson either. I glance sideways at Pinky. “Are you sure this is the same Laura Ingalls?”

  “Of course I’m sure. Read it. You’ll see.”

  “Okay,” I say, putting the book on my lap. “So why weren’t you at school today?”

  Pinky takes a deep breath. She looks at my shoes, at her fingernails, at the brick wall behind me … anywhere but my eyes. “I can’t go back there anymore,” she says in a small voice.

  I stare at her in shock. “What do you mean, you can’t go back? Like, ever?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “Father saw me with you yesterday and he saw the lollipop colors on my mouth and he got upset that I broke the rules. He says I’m to stay at home until he figures out what to do next. He and Mother argued about it for a long time.”

  It suddenly feels like a giant knot is tightening inside me. Pinky’s not coming back to school?

  “But that’s wrong,” I say. “Every kid has to go to school. It’s the law.” I actually know this for a fact because of all those times last year I begged Mom not to make me go. “Can’t you tell your father that?”

  “No, I can’t,” she says. “He believes it’s his job to protect us.”

  The knot pulls tighter, squeezing my stomach painfully. I’m desperate to figure out a way to make this right. “I still don’t get it. Protect you from what?”

  She opens her mouth to answer, but the nearby sound of a slamming car door seems to startle her.

  “I shouldn’t be here. I have to go,” she says, ignoring my question.

  “No, wait —”

  Next thing I know, she’s jumping to her feet. “You’re nice, too, Finch,” she says with a shy smile. “Bye-bye.” And she’s gone before I can ask anything more. I’m left sitting there on the porch, holding the Laura Ingalls book in my lap and trying to make sense out of everything that just happened.

  And wondering if I’ll ever see Pinky Nanda again, even though she lives right next door.

  CHAPTER 12

  Today is Mom’s first day at her job. I know she’s nervous about it because she goes upstairs to change her blouse three times in ten minutes. And she doesn’t say anything at breakfast when Harrison pours practically the whole sugar bowl over his cereal. And she’s clutching on to her coffee mug so hard, her knuckles turn white.

  Harrison leaves for school early to meet up with Matt, so Mom and I walk together, which makes me happy because the last time she walked me to school, I think I was probably in kindergarten. She gives me a quick kiss goodbye before heading into the office.

  “Wish me luck,” she says. The expression on her face reminds me of the way she looked that time two summers ago when Harrison convinced her to ride a giant looping roller coaster at the carnival — like she’s getting ready to puke.

  “You’ll be great, Mom,” I say, hoping I sound convincing enough to help. I know how scary first days can be. Daddy used to have a smart saying about staying brave, even when you’re scared: Sometimes all you can do is face the bad stuff head-on and cut a path straight through the middle.

  Pinky’s not here for recess, so I play hopscotch by myself and think about how I can get her to come back to school. I’m so lost in my thoughts, I don’t even notice Matt standing there. I hear his taunting voice before I actually see him.

  “Hey, Flinch!”

  I freeze mid-hop on the number-six square and look up. He’s standing at the top of the hopscotch grid, sneering at me with his dirty yellow teeth. My heart feels like it’s just flown into my throat.

  “Saw you and your little friend coming out of the store last week.” He yells this really loud even though I’m only a couple of feet away from him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see faces turn our way, curious to see what the commotion is about.

  “Go away, Matt,” I say, bringing my raised foot down with a stomp. My game of hopscotch is officially over.

  “Who’s going to make me?”

  It doesn’t take long for all the kids around us to stop what they’re doing and gather to watch. The hopscotch grid has suddenly become a stage. And Matt and I are the stars of the show.

  “I saw you holding hands. Are you two in love?” he asks with a laugh.

  “Stop it!” I’m yelling now, too. And there’s a hot, angry rash spreading up my chest.

  He walks toward me, crossing over the number-ten square. Then the eight and nine squares. I glance around the crowd, hoping to find a teacher who can help before this gets any worse. I spot Harrison hanging back by the basketball net. I try to catch his attention, but his eyes are glued to the ground.

  “You gonna start wearing one of those stupid dots on your forehead now?” Matt says, still walking forward. He stops when he gets to the number-seven square. He’s right in front of me now, his hands clenched into fists like he’s ready for a fight. I know he’s waiting for me to run. Just like the time he chased me when Harrison was out swimming. And the time with the dead mouse when I jumped out the window. I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s because I’m so angry, but for some reason I feel braver than I probably ought to. This time, I’m not going to let Matt see how scared I am.

  “You shut up!” I shout, hoping he doesn’t notice the quaver in my voice.

  A look of surprise passes over his face. “What did you say, Flinch?”

  The playground is deadly quiet. This is my last chance to run. I know this for a fact. But I also know that if I run away again, Matt’s just going to keep on chasing me forever. No way around this one, Finch, Daddy’s voice tells me. Head-on and straight through the middle.

  I take two steps forward and rise up on my tiptoes so I’m looking him almost straight in the eye. “I said shut up! Go pick on someone your own size!”

  The words are barely out of my mouth before Matt’s hands fly out and push me hard. I go tumbling backward and fall flat on the ground, the back of my head grazing the concrete. My heart is drumming in my chest and I feel a bit dizzy, but I manage to get back on my feet. My blue cotton jacket is torn at the elbows, and under the holes I can see blood where my skin has scraped off. It takes a few seconds for my head to clear before I’m able to realize what’s happening in front of me.

  My brother’s face is right up in Matt’s and he’s yelling so hard, his cheeks have gone red. “Lay off! She’s half your size!”

  Matt gives Harrison a hard shove. But unlike me, Harrison stays steady on his feet.

  “You’ve changed, Harr,” Matt sneers. A second later, Harrison pulls his shoulder back and throws his fist into Matt’s face. Matt staggers back a couple of steps, then runs full force at Harrison and knocks him to the ground. I see bright red drops spatter on the concrete. One of them is bleeding, or maybe it’s both of them, but everything’s happening so fast, I can’t tell. I hear someone screaming nearby and find out later that the someone was me. The kids in the school yard have f
ormed a wide circle around them. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” they yell with perfect timing, almost as if they rehearsed this in advance. I close my eyes because it’s all too awful to watch. I run my fingertips over my scar and silently pray for the rest of my feathers to grow in fast. Right here. Right now. I don’t even care who sees. I’m ready. I’m ready to fly away, I think. In the middle of all the confusion, somebody must have gone to get help, because the next thing I know, Miss Rein is grabbing both boys by their collars and steering them into the school. I run along behind, worried about Harrison. I’m happy when I see it’s Matt who’s got the bloody nose.

  “It’s not my fault!” Matt hollers, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. He points at Harrison. “He hit me first!”

  “Only because you pushed my little sister!” Harrison yells back.

  “We’ll have to let the principal straighten all this out,” Miss Rein says. Her eyes flicker over to me and my torn-up elbows. “It’s probably a good idea if you come along, too, Finch,” she says softly. “I think Mrs. Fiorini will want to hear your side of the story.”

  What with Matt’s bloody nose, Harrison’s red face and my scraped elbows, I figure we must make a pretty sorry sight as we pile into the office. Mom’s sitting behind the desk, rolling a fresh sheet of paper into the typewriter when she sees us. Her face goes sickly white … as pale as the piece of paper she’s holding in her hands. “Hi, Mom,” I say sheepishly. I’m guessing this isn’t doing much to help her first day on the job go smoothly.

  “Playground battle,” Miss Rein explains, although I’m pretty sure Mom already had that part figured out. “Once I get these injuries taken care of, will Mrs. Fiorini be available to speak to these students?”

  Mom nods and waves us through. She’s totally and utterly speechless. I don’t know if I should be relieved by her silence or scared out of my wits.

  We huddle into the principal’s small office. Matt (with an ice pack on his nose) stands on one side of Harrison and me on the other. Mrs. Fiorini drops her pen when she sees us. “For heaven’s sake! What happened here?”

  “There’s been a fight. However, I’m needed back on the playground, so I’ll have to leave the students to explain themselves to you,” Miss Rein says, excusing herself from the room. As soon as she’s gone, I don’t waste any time jumping in with my side of the story.

  “Matt was making fun of me and my friend and saying bad things about her and then he pushed me onto the ground and tore my jacket.” I pause here to point out my scraped elbows as evidence. “Please don’t be mad at Harrison … He was just defending me. Matt pushed him, too.” I’ve never been a tattletale before in my life. But it feels so good to tell on awful Matt.

  Mrs. Fiorini turns to look at him. “Is this true?”

  Of course Matt pretends to be innocent. As if he’d ever confess.

  “You’re going to believe her?” he scoffs, pointing a finger at me. “When I’m the one standing here with the ice pack on my nose?”

  “Don’t lie, Matt,” I cut in. “You said mean things about Pinky. And everyone in the school yard heard you!”

  Mrs. Fiorini sighs so loud, the papers on her desk flutter from the breeze. “All right, so where is this friend right now? I’d like to hear from her as well.”

  I freeze like someone’s just thrown a bucket of ice water at me. I wasn’t expecting that. Is Mrs. Fiorini going to phone Mrs. Nanda? Because the last thing I want is for Pinky to get called into the principal’s office. Imagine how upset her parents would be if that happened!

  “No, you can’t talk to her,” I say, scrambling for a way to keep Pinky out of this. “She … she doesn’t even go to school anymore.”

  Mrs. Fiorini’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean? How old is this girl?”

  “She’s eleven. Like me.”

  “And how do you know she doesn’t go to school?”

  I suddenly have a bad feeling I’ve said something I shouldn’t have. The room goes uncomfortably quiet while everyone waits for my answer. “Because she told me so,” I reply. My voice is so small, you’d think it was coming out of an ant instead of a girl.

  Mrs. Fiorini takes out a fresh piece of paper and picks up her dropped pen. “All right, what’s her name?” she asks.

  My armpits break out in a nervous sweat. Is Pinky in trouble? What should I do now? What should I say? I don’t want to make this any worse than it is.

  “Finch? Can you at least tell me where she lives so I can contact her family?”

  I look around for Mom, hoping she might be able to help. But the door to the office is closed.

  “Answer me, Finch,” says Mrs. Fiorini.

  I glance over at Harrison. He’s shaking his head at me like a warning. What does that mean? Answer the question? Don’t answer the question? Now he’s mouthing a silent message at me. What does he think I am — a lip reader? Because I don’t know what else to do, I shove my hands into my jacket pockets — as if the answer might miraculously be hiding in there. It’s not, of course. But my fingers close over the little ribbon Pinky tied to that perfect green apple she left on my front porch last week. And all I can think is that this must be a sign everything’s going to turn out okay. I turn back to Mrs. Fiorini and open my mouth, certain the right words will somehow magically find their way out of me.

  But the next words I hear end up coming from Matt.

  “She lives right next door to them,” he tells the principal. He looks at me and smiles his hideous smile. Then he leans in close and hisses in my ear, “Right, Flinch?”

  CHAPTER 13

  So Matt and Harrison are both suspended from school for three days. It doesn’t matter that Harrison was defending me. Mrs. Fiorini says fighting in the school yard is absolutely against the rules, so she has no choice but to give both of them the same punishment. She looks a bit guilty about having to suspend my brother, though, and I get the feeling she only does it because the principal rule book is telling her to.

  After Mrs. Fiorini calls his house, Matt’s mother comes to pick him up and (from what Mom told me later) she was none too happy about it because she grabbed him by the ear and dragged him out that office door before he had a chance to try to con her with that fake innocent act of his.

  Good.

  Harrison had to sit in the office until Mom could take him home at the end of the school day. He tells me later that she sneaked over to give him a hug and say she’s proud of him for sticking up for his sister. I hope that made Harrison feel a bit better about the whole suspension thing. It makes me feel better, at least. I tell myself to thank him later. And to ask if this fight means him and Matt aren’t going to be friends anymore. My fingers are crossed on that one.

  Mom walks us home at the end of the day. I have so many questions I want to ask her. I want to know what she thought of her job and if she had any trouble figuring out the electric typewriter and which kids needed late slips and which kids got detentions. I want to know if I made a mistake telling Mrs. Fiorini about Pinky and why she wanted to know her address and if she’s going to get in trouble. But I zip my lips and don’t ask any of it. I’m thinking she’s too rattled for questions right now. Even though the whole thing was Matt’s fault, I have to admit that we pretty much wrecked her first day on the job. None of us say a word the entire way home. When we get there, Harrison trudges off to his room and slams the door. Mom sinks into her figuring-out chair and lights a cigarette. I hover in front of the living-room window, watching her eyes closely and hoping they don’t turn into empty swimming pools again. But she waves her hand at me and says, “Go on, Finch. I’m fine,” like she knows exactly what I’m worried about. And she does look sort of fine, all things considered. So I grab a Fudgee-O and the book Pinky gave me and head outside.

  I settle into the shady spot at the side of the house and open the book. Unlike writing, reading is something I actuall
y like. And it turns out Pinky was right — the book is about the same Laura Ingalls. Only she’s a lot younger than she is in the TV show. So young, she hasn’t even moved to the prairie yet. But Ma and Pa and Mary and Carrie are all there and even Jack the dog. I read for a long time and even forget to go inside for TV. In fact, I get so caught up in this other side of Laura’s life, nothing else matters. The only thing that pulls my nose out of the book is when I hear the loud thunk of a car door slamming and notice the bright white police cruiser that’s pulled up on the street in front of my house. A big, burly policeman with heavy black boots and a gun on his hip gets out and walks slowly around the back of his car, and for one awful minute I’m positive he’s come to arrest me and Harrison for causing a disturbance at school today. But he doesn’t come to our house, after all.

  Instead, he walks across the lawn to the Nandas’ front door.

  And it feels like all the blood in my body is suddenly rushing to my face.

  Oh, boy, this is really, really, really bad. Has he come to arrest Pinky? I shut the book with a slap and run over to the front lawn so I can see what’s going on. Crouching down, I hide behind one of the prickly evergreen bushes that separate our two properties and peek through the branches at Pinky’s front door. The policeman is knocking on it for what seems like a long time. Finally it opens and Mrs. Nanda steps out. She closes the door behind her, and I see that she’s speaking to the policeman. Are those handcuffs hanging from his pocket? I wish I could hear what they’re saying, but my heart is hammering so loud in my ears, I can’t hear anything else. I hope he’s not going to put Pinky in jail. I cross my fingers and wish really hard that it’s going to be okay. I wanted Pinky to come back to school with me. But you can bet I never wanted her or her family to get in trouble.