by Robin Yardi
When the slam from the trailer door reached the tree where he was hiding, Alfred decided that Mattie’s troubles had somehow—maddeningly—become his as well. Something had to be done.
He opened his eyes all the way, determined not to let the sunlight bother him. For days, he’d been tucked inside a hole in one of the cypress trees above the trailer. Aside from the few times, late at night, when he’d ventured forth to stretch his wings and keep a general eye on things, he had spent these days listening. Moping. Thinking. Alfred squeezed himself through the craggy opening, stretched his stiff talons, and shivered his feathers into place. He swooped down to the trailer’s deck.
Thump.
Mattie needed his help. And since she’d marched straight into his home at their last meeting, he marched across the wooden deck toward her trailer door and tapped, very gently, with his beak.
Tap-tap-tap.
Only silence from the trailer.
Alfred swiveled his head both ways, checking behind him for witnesses, and tapped again.
“Coming, Beanie,” Mattie called.
Alfred fluffed his feathers in preparation. He had anticipated that Mattie would assume he was Beatrice and was determined not to let it bother him.
The deck shimmied gently under his talons.
The door swung open, and Alfred blinked up at Mattie Waters.
She did not immediately notice him. The range of Mattie’s vision ended at least twelve inches above Alfred’s beak. And he did blend in with the splintered pine beams exceptionally well.
“Beanie?” Mattie said, peering down the path.
Alfred, not wanting to startle Mattie, let forth the smallest and most melodic whoooo he could muster.
Mattie did jump. A little. But her look of confusion quickly disappeared.
“You came back!” she said.
Alfred’s wings lifted involuntarily. The feathers around his beak puffed, and his heart swelled with relief at the sight of her. She wasn’t even his own owlet. His inexplicable concern for her—oof, what a nuisance!
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Mattie smiled. Looking straight into the eyes of an owl who has come to knock-knock on your door will do that to you. He seemed so small standing on her deck. Like a silly feathered mushroom. And she forgot about her impossible situation for the tiniest crumb of time.
Then the back door to the donut shop swung shut. The sound echoed across the parking lot. Aunt Molly had been cleaning every inch of the shop, banishing cobwebs and tile grease around the fryer. Taking inventory of the pink donut boxes and napkins. She even cleaned the ceiling. It was all she could do. Mattie watched as her aunt hefted a giant black bag of trash into the dumpster.
Would she turn around?
Was she coming home?
“Quick,” Mattie said, her eyes going as big as the owl’s. “Meet me under the deck.”
The owl blinked, raised its feathery eyebrow thingies, and hopped around the side of the trailer. Crump-crump-crump.
Mattie covered her mouth, trying not to giggle. Owls definitely were better at flying than hopping. The owl approached an opening in the patterned wood that closed off the space beneath the deck. It was almost like a door, but really one of the latticed panels had just fallen down a long time ago. He slipped through without hesitation.
As Mattie ducked under the deck, Aunt Molly’s footsteps thudded above. The trailer door clicked open and closed.
They’d just made it.
Mattie blinked around. Shimmery slides of sunlight came through the diamond-shaped holes in the deck’s wood siding. Two summers ago, Mattie had made a fort under the deck, but she hadn’t been back much lately. A used carpet she’d dragged in from Mrs. Mantooth’s trash pile was still tucked into her favorite corner, beside a stack of water-warped books. Crayons and plastic toys from that old summer still lined the beams, and droopy origami cranes and dragonflies hung from the bottom of the deck, mildewed and dangling from dental floss. Everything was still there, gathering dust, but it all felt smaller. The dark corners didn’t feel as far away. Mattie knew she had gotten bigger since she was eight, but it was easier to imagine that the whole world had just shrunk instead.
The dark underside of the deck took her backward in time, to when she had a mother and was only on vacation. It felt nice. So different from the dark road in her dreams. This was a place she’d been before.
But even there, where everything else was the same, Mattie was not.
The owl stood aside, hopping backwards to give her more room. She settled onto the musty Persian carpet, perched on her knees, not sure how to begin. She wished they had a donut to nibble. Something big enough to share between them, like one of Aunt Molly’s maple bars. That might have made things easier. There was so much to explain. So much to ask. But Mattie decided she needed to know one thing first.
“What’s your name?” Mattie asked.
Mattie saw instantly that she had asked the correct question. No matter what came after, this had been the place to begin. The owl fluffed his feathers in a shivery ripple.
“Hmmm,” Mattie said, giving the owl a careful look. “Is it . . . Zeus? You could be a Zeus.”
The owl pressed his feathery crests down.
Not even close.
She stared into the owl’s golden eyes. Dust motes glowed around him. But what if the owl wasn’t a him at all? She needed to start at the beginning. Mattie scrunched her mouth, thinking of a great name for a girl owl.
“What about . . . Athena?”
The owl didn’t blink. But it winked.
That sure seemed like a no . . . but also a yes. “So your name’s not Athena.”
The owl blinked. Correct.
“But, you are a girl?”
The owl pressed its ear tufts all the way down. Nope.
“So maybe it’s a name like Athena. One that starts with the same letter?”
He blinked. Yes.
Mattie spouted a list of names while watching the owl carefully. “Abraham. Abel. Adonis. Albus. Ash. Andy. Alexander.” She took a breath. “Alfred.”
At the mention of that name, the owl’s ear tufts rose in surprise. He blinked once. That was a yes!
“Alfred!” Mattie said, smiling. “I love it.”
And that’s when things really began. Mattie finally felt ready to ask all her questions. She pulled out her notebook and opened it to her list of suspects.
“Alfred, do you know what the gloopers look like?”
Alfred blinked yes.
“Okay,” Mattie mumbled. “I’m going to read what I wrote about my suspects, and I want you to keep doing the blinky thing.”
Mattie read each description and paused, waiting for Alfred’s response. She went through all the strangers from the campground and every donut shop customer on the list. Each time, Alfred pressed his ear tufts flat against his head. No. No. No. Mattie even read the descriptions for Hermit Harriet and Mrs. Mantooth twice, asking Alfred if he was sure. And it certainly seemed like he was. Mattie slumped across the rug.
“They can’t all be a no,” Mattie said.
Alfred clicked his beak.
Mattie flipped through the notebook too quickly, tearing one of the pages. Maybe Alfred was wrong. Her list was great. Maybe owls weren’t good at remembering faces or outfits. Not as good as she’d hoped, anyway.
Mattie definitely didn’t feel like crossing Mantooth or Harriet off the list of suspects. But maybe she was missing someone. And maybe Mrs. Mantooth would’ve been a yes but her accomplice wasn’t on the list, and that’s why Alfred said no. It was easy to have a misunderstanding, talking with an owl.
And she didn’t know how to fix it.
She didn’t know what to ask next.
“Alfred, this doesn’t help,” Mattie said, plunking onto her butt. With her elbows on her knees and her bunched-up fists under her chin, two little tears fell onto her notebook.
Alfred shivered from top to bottom.
It was a question, Mattie was sure of it.
His shiver said, what do you mean?
So Mattie explained.
About everything. And it was so nice to be able to do that without being interrupted.
She explained about the disposable camera maybe having a picture on it. She explained about the real estate agent who was trying to get Aunt Molly to sell the shop. She explained about the fines and about how a donut baker like Aunt Molly would no way be able to pay them, so maybe she would have to sell it.
And then she explained about cars and her mom.
About not wanting to get in anything that could go so fast. How even the bus to school or Monterey felt impossible. Dangerous. But it was more than that too. She wanted to stay put. She was scared to get off that bus and not have her mom there waiting. Mattie wanted to wait in Big Sur forever.
“Sasha says if I’m brave enough to climb a hundred-foot tree, going up the highway to Monterey should be no big deal. She called me a chicken, Alfred.”
Alfred clacked his beak.
“I mean she didn’t actually. She said I wasn’t a chicken. But that’s how it felt. I thought maybe it would be easier to ride on that highway again once I stopped missing Mom, but I’m not sure I’m ever going to stop.”
Alfred hopped closer until he was almost touching her knee with the puffiest feathers on his chest.
“Do you think I’m a chicken, Alfred?” Mattie asked.
Alfred spun his head all the way to the left and then all the way to the right, which was the silliest way to say no that Mattie had ever seen.
Mattie swiped at her cheeks and laughed. “Well, at least that’s one of us. So . . . you think I should go?”
Alfred blinked, pulled his ear tufts down, and blinked again. Which Mattie took to mean: Yes, if you can. And she thought she could. Maybe.
“But what if it doesn’t work? What if there’s nothing in that camera?”
Alfred hopped onto the notebook and hooted a single deep note.
Whooo.
Mattie felt it tickle against her ears.
It made something hopeful hum inside her.
It made her believe that somehow things could get fixed and that she could do that fixing. She just needed to be brave enough to try.
“Okay,” Mattie said, nodding. “Let’s make a plan.”
Half an hour later, a new plan was neatly arranged. Alfred had approved every detail. Mattie ducked back out from under the deck, hurrying beneath the cypress trees, swiping spider webs from her hair. She knew what she had to say to Aunt Molly, to Sasha and Beanie, and to Mr. and Mrs. Little. The truth. Small bits of it to each of them. Well, she could tell Sasha everything, but Mattie wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. Or that Sasha wanted her to do that.
Alfred followed Mattie out, hopping through the dry leaves. Crump. Crump-crump-crump. Outside, he spread his wings, flapped, and retreated into the limbs of a sycamore. He was not altogether inconspicuous, but no one was watching.
No one but Mattie.
Once Alfred had settled onto a good perch, Mattie waved. Alfred returned the gesture, in his way, before closing his golden eyes.
“Sasha first,” Mattie said quietly, marching down to the river.
She looked upstream once, to the rusty pipe that dumped into the river just where Sycamore Creek started. She wondered which way the gloop would go if rain came before the county could get it all scooped up: down the creek or down the river? Maybe both.
She splunked downstream faster but didn’t slip on any rocks or get sploshes of water on her shorts. Sasha was in the first place Mattie looked for her. The blanket fort in her family’s messy living room. She always liked to hide out after a big party. Mostly so she didn’t have to help clean up.
Sasha peeked over the edge of her book as Mattie came into the room.
“Okay,” Mattie said. “Let’s do it.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let the donut shop get fried,” Sasha said, making a tiny creased triangle at the top of the page she’d stopped on.
Flup.
The book closed.
“So what’s our excuse for going?” Sasha said. “My mom’s not going to say yes if we tell her we’re figuring out who’s behind a criminal conspiracy.”
“I already thought of that,” Mattie told her. “We’ll say we’re going to the aquarium up in Monterey. I have a free four-person pass and everything. I won it in a raffle at my old school. And we’ve got to say it’s like practice for me. You know, riding in a bus before school starts. Plus,” Mattie paused, “the free pass is about to expire, so we have to use it.”
Sasha’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, that is good. No way is my mom going to say no to a coupon.”
Now Mattie was really smiling, because it was absolutely true. Free anything was Mrs. Little’s secret weakness . . . or greatest strength. Mattie wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter.
“I’ll go convince Aunt Molly. You go talk to your mom. Have her call Owl’s in like fifteen minutes.”
“Got it,” Sasha said, already hustling down the hall shouting, “Beanieeeeeee!”
The line that Mattie and Sasha both agreed to use, and that Alfred had so enthusiastically endorsed, was that grown-ups would ruin the whole point of riding the bus. How could Mattie get ready to ride to school all by herself (sure, with Sasha and Beanie too) if Mr. Little or Aunt Molly tagged along? It would be too embarrassing if Mattie chickened out on the first day in front of everybody—so she had to practice. Plus she’d already done it a bazillion times, plus the coupon, so please-please-please could they go?
Mattie was at the donut shop, finishing up with her speech, when the old black phone on the wall started to ring. Aunt Molly ignored it. She didn’t look convinced yet that the girls riding the bus together all alone was a stellar idea.
Her face had sprouted extra wrinkles overnight.
She was wearing her apron, but the donut case was empty. The phone stopped its rattling ring.
“Please,” Mattie said. “I’ll only take the girls to the aquarium. I won’t let Beanie get lost. Me and Sasha . . .”
“Oh, Mattie. I know you would take care of Beanie. Nobody’s worried about that. Why don’t you let me take you girls? The shop’s closed—”
“Aunt Molly, I have to figure out how to do this by myself. School starts on Tuesday. I want to be ready. I need to be ready.”
It was easy to say because it wasn’t a lie.
Owl’s old black phone rang again, and this time Aunt Molly reached over and answered. “Hi Betz . . . Yep, I’m getting the same treatment here.” Then Aunt Molly laughed and turned away. Her shoulders eased down from around her ears.
That was it.
They had permission!
Mattie smiled a sneaky half smile, imagining all the convincing that Sasha had done on her end. Mrs. Little’s yes was maybe more important than anyone’s.
“I’ll pack them a lunch, and we can get them on the noon bus tomorrow with Janelle . . . Yep. She’ll take care of them . . . great. Okay, bye Betz.” Aunt Molly clunked the phone back onto the wall.
She looked straight into Mattie’s eyes, and Mattie stood up on her tiptoes, grinning.
“We want you three wearing long pants, and you’ll have to put on some real shoes for once. That should help you get ready for school too. We’ll meet the Littles up at the bus stop tomorrow at noon. If you change your mind, nobody . . .”
“I’m never changing my mind, Aunt Molly. Not about this.”
“Then scoot, kiddo—go find that pass!” Molly swatted her with a yellow dishtowel and smiled.
The worried creases on her aunt’s face disappeared, creases that had been there since the donut shop closed down. Mattie hoped she’d be able to make them stay away forever.
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On Sunday, promptly at noon, Sasha and Beanie and Mrs. Little and Mattie and Aunt Molly all met at the bus stop along Highway One. The three girls were wearing stretchy leggings and zippy jackets with pockets and for-real shoes with socks and everything. Mattie’s turquoise backpack was heavy with the lunch that Aunt Molly had packed. It clinked and clunked and gurgled with good things. Mattie showed the free aquarium pass off to Sasha and Beanie, and their eyes sparkled at each other with their secret hope of saving everything.
Mrs. Little gave Sasha Mr. Little’s shiny new phone, which she’d commandeered for the day. She also gave Sasha strict instructions to text her three times: when they arrived in Monterey, once they were in the aquarium, and when they were on their way back. Sasha zipped it into the pocket of her jacket with a very satisfied expression.
When the county bus came bobbing around the bend, Mattie sucked in her breath. You get a little older and some things end up feeling small, like her fort under the deck, but some things just keep getting bigger. Scarier. Harder. Sasha reached for Mattie’s hand but looked the other way, like they always held hands and it was no big deal. Then Sasha bumped Beanie with her hip, and Beanie quickly grabbed Mattie’s other hand.
Sasha really was a great person to have on your side.
Mattie watched the bus easing closer and tried not to think about how it would feel to go so fast, tried not to think about the driverless car from her old dream. She tried to focus on the cracked disposable camera instead. She didn’t know what would be waiting inside it, but she wanted to believe that whatever the camera was hiding would help her catch those gloopers and help Aunt Molly. Which would make getting on that bus worth being so scared.
As the bus got closer, Mattie didn’t turn around, but she knew Aunt Molly and Mrs. Little were exchanging looks. Waiting to see if she really could do it.
Hissssss.
The bus stopped in front of them.
Pssst-clap!
The folding doors opened.
There was Janelle. Her hair was different, in braids now and twisted up into what looked like a crown. But she smiled just the same as she had all those other times, and her shiny brown cheeks made Mattie want to smile too.
