Sparrow, Always, page 5
Miss Eileen laughed. “Too bad for Mr. Lazybones, but it’s time for his walk.” She took down the leash and the blue FUTURE GUIDE DOG vest from a hook where they were hanging.
Sparrow scrambled up from the floor. “Ready, lovebug?”
“Oh, Sparrow, I’m sorry,” said Miss Eileen. “Didn’t your mom tell you what I said?”
Sparrow shook her head. “I didn’t see her.”
“Oh dear. I said it was fine for you to bring a friend over to pat Toby inside the house. But when you’re outside walking, you need to be a hundred percent focused on Toby. So no friends on the walk. I’ll take him out now, and if you want, you can take him again after Paloma goes home.”
“Oh!” said Sparrow, feeling the prickling of tears behind her eyes. Quickly she scrunched her face so they wouldn’t come out.
“Wait!” said Paloma. “I have an idea.”
Five minutes later Sparrow set off down the street, scanning ahead for possible problems. The coast was clear. So was the pale blue, cloudless sky. Sparrow walked down Hartley Street, counting houses as she went.
One…
She couldn’t believe what a mixed-up day this was. On the one hand, Paloma had come over and they had snuggled with Toby on the braided rug. And then Paloma had volunteered to hang back and play with Gracie so Sparrow could walk Toby! That was the best-friendiest thing your best friend could ever do.
Two…
On the other hand, the stickers.
Three…
After this walk was over, and after Paloma went home, Sparrow would find out what Mrs. K. had said to her mom. And what if her mom said that Sparrow wasn’t being a cooperator?
Four…
And what if that meant she couldn’t walk Toby anymore? What if her very first all-by-herself walk with Toby was her last one?
Five…
They had come to the place where they always turned around—a gray house with wind chimes hanging from the porch, jingling in the soft breeze. She stopped and asked Toby to sit, and he sat. “Good job, lovebug!”
Except… if this was their last walk, Sparrow didn’t want it to be over so soon. She looked down at the crack between the sidewalk squares. What if she put her foot over the line? What if she went a little farther?
Sparrow stood on the sidewalk, trying to decide. Go farther or go back? The wind chimes were tinkling, and the air smelled like fresh-cut grass. She was taking so long before giving Toby the next command that he turned his head and looked up at her with his deep brown eyes. Eyes that trusted her. What are we doing?
The wind chimes rang again, softly, and Sparrow knew the answer.
If anyone found out she had gone too far, then this would definitely, positively, absolutely be the last walk. Which could not happen. Toby was on his way to being a guide dog, and she was definitely, positively, absolutely going to keep helping. Which meant going back.
She gave Toby the command and they turned around. And straight and tall, they headed for home.
20
Sparrow sat on the sofa with Gracie on her lap and her mom holding Asher beside her. She was glad they were sitting side by side, instead of facing each other. She didn’t like her mom looking right at her. Especially when she knew what was coming next: talking about what had happened at school.
“I heard you had a rough day, Little Bird. Want to tell me about it?”
“Not really,” said Sparrow as she stroked Gracie. There was only one thing she wanted to talk about. “But what about Toby?”
“Toby?” asked her mom. “What does he have to do with this?”
“I thought you’d say I couldn’t walk him anymore.”
“Sparrow, we love that you’re getting to walk Toby. That’s a great experience for you! Why would we say that?”
Sometimes Sparrow’s parents didn’t make sense. First they said she could help walk Toby if she was a cooperator in friendship group. Now she was in trouble, so why wouldn’t they say she couldn’t walk him anymore?
“I thought you’d be mad because I got in trouble.”
“Sparrow, nobody’s mad at you, and you’re not in trouble.”
This was another thing that made no sense. Mrs. K. might have tried to make the stickers seem like something positive—follow the rules and get stickers!—but Sparrow wasn’t stupid. The opposite was just as true. If she didn’t follow the rules, then she wouldn’t get stickers. And she would get in trouble.
And she had a whole list of people who were mad. Mrs. K. Mrs. Foxworthy. Anton. All the other kids in Weather.
She gave Gracie another pat, from the top of her head to the tip of her tail. At least she wasn’t mad at Sparrow. Unless…
Sparrow felt a pinprick of guilt. What if Gracie’s feelings were hurt because every day after school Sparrow ran over to walk Toby? What if Gracie felt left out, the same as Sparrow did when she saw Paloma playing with other kids at recess? Quickly she gave the kitten another pat, and Gracie began purring a deep, rumbling purr that made Sparrow feel better. Black splotches on white, or white splotches on black (she still couldn’t decide), Gracie wasn’t mad at her and never could be. Gracie knew Sparrow loved her.
“I’m not mad,” repeated Sparrow’s mom, “but you do know you need to apologize to Anton, right?”
“I know!” She wished her mom wouldn’t tell her things she already knew. “I’m going to!”
“Good. And you know you’re not in trouble, right? Your dad and I are concerned that you’re having a difficult time, that’s all. So is Mrs. K.” Her mom paused and reached over to give Gracie a pat in Sparrow’s lap. “So, how’s friendship group going?”
Was this a trick question? Mrs. K. had called her mom to tell her what happened today. They probably talked about friendship group too.
“Okay, I guess,” said Sparrow. “I still don’t get why I have to go, though. Am I supposed to be friends with those kids?”
“You might get to be friends with them,” said her mom. “That would be a bonus. But the reason you’re there is to learn about some things that are… well, not what Mrs. Foxworthy is teaching in the classroom.”
“Like what?”
“Like feelings,” said her mom. She went on, talking all about feelings. How sometimes it was hard to understand your feelings. And sometimes it was hard to talk about them. Or express them in a safe way.
Sparrow got it. What her mom really meant was that Sparrow’s feelings were… too much. They made Sparrow get carried away, so she stood on the furniture and walked away from the teacher and stomped on her friend’s foot. And ended up having to do a sticker chart like a baby!
Suddenly Sparrow felt Gracie’s paw tap-tap-tapping her cheek. You stopped patting me. Sparrow always felt better when she patted Gracie, but right now she felt so stuck that even her fingers felt stuck together. And Sparrow hated that feeling! She hated feeling sticky and she hated feeling stuck. And this was like the worst melted-marshmallow-on-your-fingers, squeezed-in-the-middle-of-the-back-seat-on-a-long-car-ride, sticky-stuck feeling she had ever felt.
“I hate the stickers!” she blurted.
“What’s wrong with stickers? We’ve used them before. We had a star chart for setting the table, remember?”
“Star charts are for babies,” said Sparrow bitterly.
“Not necessarily,” said her mom. “Dad has a star chart.”
“No he doesn’t!” cried Sparrow, twisting around so she could look straight at her mom.
“Yes he does,” said her mom. She was smiling, but it was a tired smile, and actually, everything about her seemed tired. Her ponytail drooped. Her shirt was saggy, baggy, faded flannel. “It’s not a paper chart you can put on the fridge,” she explained. “It’s an app on his phone.”
Sparrow felt like when you did too many cartwheels. Even after you got back to right side up, your brain still felt a little upside down. Why would her let’s-get-things-straight, stickler-for-good-grammar dad need a star chart? She kind of couldn’t believe her mom. Except her mom wouldn’t tell a lie.
“What’s it for?”
“You can ask him yourself,” said her mom. “Tomorrow morning.”
21
Birdsongs came floating through the open kitchen window, like they were catching a ride on the soft May breeze. Through the monitor on the kitchen counter came Asher-waking-up noises.
“Breakfast for you,” said Sparrow’s mom as she set a plate of cinnamon toast on the table.
“Cinnamon toast, toast, toast,” sang Sparrow. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said her mom with a smile, “and now somebody else will get breakfast upstairs.” She disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone with her dad.
Sparrow’s mom had cut her toast exactly the way she liked it: crisscross into four triangles. Sparrow picked up a triangle. She always started with the crust because she liked to save the best part for last. “Dad,” she said between nibbles. “Is it true you have a star chart?”
Her dad sat with his hands wrapped around his cup of coffee. “It’s true,” he said. “Ask me anything.”
“What’s it for?”
“There’s something I try to do every day, so I give myself a star if I do it.”
Sparrow nibbled while she listened. Some people would call it meditating, he said. Or praying. He thought of it as taking a moment to sit quietly and be grateful. And the reason he did it was because it helped him be more like he wanted to be for the rest of the day.
Sparrow had nibbled off the crusts of all four triangles. All that was left on her plate were four cinnamony quarter moons. She popped one in her mouth. She loved the way the cinnamon sugar crunched between her teeth and then melted in her mouth.
“Like how?” she asked.
“Like not being critical even when it’s my job to correct somebody’s mistake. And also—you know—being really nice to you and Mom.”
“And Asher,” pointed out Sparrow.
“And Asher,” he agreed. “Now. Can I ask you some questions?”
“You can,” she said, “and you may.”
“Ooh, you got me! Grammar mistake,” he said, grinning. “Okay, my turn. Mom filled me in a little. You want to fill me in some more?”
“It’s so unfair!” she began.
Sparrow told her dad how Anton had started the whole thing but she was the one who’d ended up being in trouble. She told him all about the chips and the stickers, and there was a pass card too. That was like a free pass for if there was a time when Sparrow felt she couldn’t be a Busy Bee because she needed to step away and get some distance. But it had to be practically an emergency.
Her dad sat with his cup of coffee between his hands. Nodding. Not interrupting. Waiting until she was done to say, “That sounds really hard.”
“I thought you were going to say that Mrs. Foxworthy’s the teacher, so she’s right and I’m wrong.”
Now her dad took a sip of coffee. Buying time. The only sounds were the birdcalls breezing through the open window.
“I think Mrs. Foxworthy is trying to be as clear as possible about what she needs from you. So, yes—I think she’s right to do that. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong to feel that this is difficult. And I get that Anton was…” He paused, like he was searching for the right word.
Sparrow was still mad at Anton, and she knew the exact right word. “A total poop!”
A smile flickered beneath her dad’s mustache. “I wouldn’t say that myself,” he said. “But I’ll allow it. Now, about those stickers. Mrs. K. wanted me and Mom to talk with you about having a goal and a reward. How about if you get a bumblebee sticker every day for a week, then we do something fun?”
“Do you do that?” she asked. “Give yourself a reward if you get enough stars?”
Her dad shook his head. “My reward is that when I’m doing my thing, I feel better.”
She doubted that meeting the Busy Bee expectations was going to make her feel better. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t like a reward. She put the last triangle of toast in her mouth. Chewing. Thinking. What would be good? Then an idea came to her, sweet as cinnamon sugar.
22
Family meetings were not Sparrow’s favorite. Usually, her parents called them to talk about chores. But this one was to talk about Sparrow’s idea, so she was all in. She’d been all in the second she thought of it—which was yesterday—but her dad had said it was time for her to go to school. He would ask Miss Eileen if she could join them for a quick meeting tomorrow morning. Which was today!
Waiting, Sparrow raced around the grass, leaping over dandelions. Half were still sunshine yellow, and half had turned to white puffballs. Finally her mom and dad came outside—her mom holding a cup of coffee, and her dad holding Asher—and Miss Eileen joined them on the porch steps.
“Where’s Toby?” asked Sparrow.
“Inside. Practicing waiting.”
“Love that concept!” said Sparrow’s mom.
“Uh-oh,” said Sparrow’s dad, jiggling Asher. “Somebody’s fussy. Maybe this isn’t a good time.”
“Let’s see if he settles,” said her mom.
Sparrow didn’t have much time. Soon one of her parents would say it was time for school. “Try swooping him,” she suggested. “Uncle Marko said when I was a baby, Uncle Chris would take me outside and swoop me around to make me happy.”
“That’s true!” said Sparrow’s mom. “You always loved make-believe flying.”
“And being outside,” added her dad, “which is not working for this little guy today.”
Asher wasn’t all-the-way crying. He was off-and-on crying. Sparrow needed him to be not crying at all.
She darted off the steps and picked one of the white dandelions. Standing in front of her baby brother, she made chipmunk cheeks, then blew the air from her cheeks. Asher’s eyes popped wide open as dandelion fluff floated through the sky.
Sparrow did another, and another. Picking dandelions and making them burst apart. A hundred seeds flying off each one like tiny comets in a blue sky. Asher wasn’t fussing anymore. In a little while his head sagged and his eyes drooped shut. Sparrow’s dad carried him inside.
“That was awesome, Sparrow!” said Miss Eileen.
A minute later her dad came back outside with a cup of coffee and the baby monitor. He gave Sparrow a big smile. “He’s asleep. Good job, lovebug.”
“All right, let’s begin,” said Sparrow’s mom, “because Sparrow is chomping at the bit.”
“Funny thing,” said Sparrow’s dad, “most people say ‘chomping,’ but it’s actually ‘champing at the bit.’ ”
“Is chomping wrong?”
“It’s not exactly wrong,” he said, “but it’s technically less correct.”
Sparrow’s mom made a face that was half amused and half annoyed. She shook her head and raised her eyebrows, giving Sparrow a Can you believe this guy? look.
“Dad, I don’t think you should get a star today. Mom looks mad!”
Sparrow’s parents laughed, and her dad said, “Lucky for me, your mom is a very understanding person. But speaking of stars, yes, let’s begin.”
He explained to Miss Eileen that Sparrow had a sort of star chart she was working on. And an idea for a reward if she met her goal, her mom added. Then they turned to Sparrow. They expected her to ask. And to be okay if the answer was no.
“I really want Toby to pass his test,” she began, “even though when he goes away, I’m going to miss him. So I was wondering… you know how you said he loves to snooze? And we were snug as two bugs in a rug? I was wondering if before he leaves, could we ever have a sleepover? Me and Toby?”
A big blue jay swooped across the sky while Sparrow held her breath, waiting for the answer. Luckily, she didn’t have to hold it for long.
“I love that idea!” said Miss Eileen. “And he would love it too. Let’s do this.”
Sparrow jumped up to grab her backpack. Get a bumblebee sticker every day for a week? No problem!
23
Half an hour later Mrs. Foxworthy handed Sparrow three red checker chips. That day she didn’t take any back, so Sparrow got a bumblebee sticker.
And she had already gotten one yesterday, which was Tuesday. And Mrs. K. had put a sticker in the booklet on Monday, when she was explaining everything, and her parents said that could count. That just left Thursday and Friday. Two days to go.
On Thursday, Sparrow lost one chip, but at the end of the day she still had two left, so she got the sticker. One day to go.
On Friday, Sparrow lost the first chip because of the pencil sharpener. You were only supposed to go sharpen your pencil if nobody else was using the sharpener. Orion was sharpening his pencil, but it looked like he was all done, so Sparrow got up and went over. But then Orion didn’t leave. He kept sharpening. And sharpening and sharpening. Sparrow stood and waited, which was not a good use of her time, said Mrs. Foxworthy.
After recess she still had two chips, though, and only a couple of hours to go. She was going to make it! She was so happy, she stopped by Anton’s desk as kids were getting settled back in their seats.
“Hey. So you know how I stomped on your foot?”
“You call that a stomp?” asked Anton with a grin. “It was more like a squish.”
“Or a smush,” said Sparrow, grinning too. “Anyway, I came to say sorry. For real.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “It didn’t even hurt.”
“Tell that to my mom.”
Anton laughed. “My mom says I’m supposed to say sorry too. So, you know. Sorry. For real.”
They were both laughing when Mrs. Foxworthy appeared and told Sparrow she should have been in her seat by now, and that would be a chip.
And when Sparrow tried to explain, she lost a third one for arguing.
That was week one of the Busy Bee sticker system.
24
Week two of the sticker system began, and Sparrow began noticing something. Orion.
He was over at the pencil sharpener again—the one you had to crank by hand. Crank-crank-crank-crank-crank. Then he sat down. A minute later he got up and went over to the electric sharpener. Whir-whir-whir-whir-whir. A few minutes later he was back at it—crank-crank-crank-crank-crank. Then whir-whir-whir-whir-whir. Then over to the pencil jar for a new pencil, probably because he’d sharpened the old one down to a little stub. Back to the sharpener to sharpen the new pencil. Over to the trash to empty out the sharpener, which was probably full of pencil shavings. And spilling them all over the place. Which was when Mrs. Foxworthy went up to Orion and held up a single finger. Which was the same thing she did to signal to Sparrow that she needed to collect a checker chip.
