train, it would be impossible.
David finishes his song, and the others sit up and clap. I clap, too. He was really, really good. I could only tell he was nervous occasionally.
“Aw, it was nothing,” David says, waving away the applause. “Anything to help the trees.”
The hawks rustle their feathers, almost like they’re clapping, too.
“Look,” Amanda says, pointing at the birds. “It’s not only nature you can charm. It’s also the animal kingdom. Max and Flo love your singing, too.”
I look around in surprise. “You guys know those birds?”
They all nod. “They’ve been in Willow Falls for decades,” Leo says. “My parents remember them from when they were teenagers. Some kids named them Max and Flo. The names just stuck.”
“I think it’s very romantic,” Rory says wistfully. “They’re like lovebirds. Except, you know, they’re hawks. You never see one without the other.”
Well, that decides it. It was bad enough having one bird facing me down in my backyard, I’d have noticed if there were two.
While the others are tending to a tree that has started falling over, I gravitate to the fountain and watch the hawks for a minute. The smaller one is using its beak to clean the feathers on the larger, who then rustles them contentedly. Some unseen signal must have passed through them, because they both lift off with a mutual
garunk
. But as they fly overhead, something about the bright yellow feet on the larger one seems awfully familiar.
“Look out!” David yells. I look down from the sky in time to see him running right at me. He places his hands on both of my shoulders and shoves. I stumble back, unable to catch my balance before falling onto my butt. I watch in horror as a stream of bird droppings hits David squarely on top of his head.
David falls dramatically to his knees. “Hamburglar down,” he calls out weakly. “Hamburglar down.”
“Wow!” Rory says, suddenly appearing at my side. “He took a bullet for you! Well, a bullet of bird poop!”
I scramble to my feet, ignoring the ache in my butt from the hard ground. I stare at David, unsure of what to say, or even think. No one has ever done anything like
that
for me before.
“I’m pretty sure this means you’re indebted to him for life,” Leo says.
Some bird poop slides from David’s hair onto his glasses. He takes them off and wipes them on the bottom of his shirt.
“I … I don’t know what to say,” I manage to squeak out. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, putting his glasses back on and blinking. “Purely selfish on my part. A bird pooping on your head is supposed to be good luck. So since you’re the reason it happened, that means
you
must be good luck. That’s why you came to Willow Falls this summer, right?” He grins. “To bring me luck for my bar mitzvah.”
My stomach twists. I’m absolutely positive my parents weren’t thinking of David when they sent me here. I point to the side of his glasses. “Um, there’s still a little …”
He quickly wipes them off again. “No one happens to have a tissue in their pocket, do they?” He’s still holding on to his button-down shirt, and I bet he’s wondering if he should just take it off and use it to wipe his hair. But if he felt comfortable doing that he would have done it already.
“Hang on,” Rory says, “I’ve got something.” She unwraps a thick strip of canvas from the bottom of one of the unplanted trees, then repacks the dirt firmly around it. I never would have thought of that.
“This is why we keep her around,” Amanda tells me, smiling proudly at Rory. “She’s resourceful.”
David lowers his head, and Rory does as good a job as she can to clean him up with the rag. Good thing his hair is so short. Prior experience has taught me it’s much worse with long hair. And if it weren’t for David, I’d be finding that out all over again.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not good luck for anyone,”
David finishes his song, and the others sit up and clap. I clap, too. He was really, really good. I could only tell he was nervous occasionally.
“Aw, it was nothing,” David says, waving away the applause. “Anything to help the trees.”
The hawks rustle their feathers, almost like they’re clapping, too.
“Look,” Amanda says, pointing at the birds. “It’s not only nature you can charm. It’s also the animal kingdom. Max and Flo love your singing, too.”
I look around in surprise. “You guys know those birds?”
They all nod. “They’ve been in Willow Falls for decades,” Leo says. “My parents remember them from when they were teenagers. Some kids named them Max and Flo. The names just stuck.”
“I think it’s very romantic,” Rory says wistfully. “They’re like lovebirds. Except, you know, they’re hawks. You never see one without the other.”
Well, that decides it. It was bad enough having one bird facing me down in my backyard, I’d have noticed if there were two.
While the others are tending to a tree that has started falling over, I gravitate to the fountain and watch the hawks for a minute. The smaller one is using its beak to clean the feathers on the larger, who then rustles them contentedly. Some unseen signal must have passed through them, because they both lift off with a mutual
garunk
. But as they fly overhead, something about the bright yellow feet on the larger one seems awfully familiar.
“Look out!” David yells. I look down from the sky in time to see him running right at me. He places his hands on both of my shoulders and shoves. I stumble back, unable to catch my balance before falling onto my butt. I watch in horror as a stream of bird droppings hits David squarely on top of his head.
David falls dramatically to his knees. “Hamburglar down,” he calls out weakly. “Hamburglar down.”
“Wow!” Rory says, suddenly appearing at my side. “He took a bullet for you! Well, a bullet of bird poop!”
I scramble to my feet, ignoring the ache in my butt from the hard ground. I stare at David, unsure of what to say, or even think. No one has ever done anything like
that
for me before.
“I’m pretty sure this means you’re indebted to him for life,” Leo says.
Some bird poop slides from David’s hair onto his glasses. He takes them off and wipes them on the bottom of his shirt.
“I … I don’t know what to say,” I manage to squeak out. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, putting his glasses back on and blinking. “Purely selfish on my part. A bird pooping on your head is supposed to be good luck. So since you’re the reason it happened, that means
you
must be good luck. That’s why you came to Willow Falls this summer, right?” He grins. “To bring me luck for my bar mitzvah.”
My stomach twists. I’m absolutely positive my parents weren’t thinking of David when they sent me here. I point to the side of his glasses. “Um, there’s still a little …”
He quickly wipes them off again. “No one happens to have a tissue in their pocket, do they?” He’s still holding on to his button-down shirt, and I bet he’s wondering if he should just take it off and use it to wipe his hair. But if he felt comfortable doing that he would have done it already.
“Hang on,” Rory says, “I’ve got something.” She unwraps a thick strip of canvas from the bottom of one of the unplanted trees, then repacks the dirt firmly around it. I never would have thought of that.
“This is why we keep her around,” Amanda tells me, smiling proudly at Rory. “She’s resourceful.”
David lowers his head, and Rory does as good a job as she can to clean him up with the rag. Good thing his hair is so short. Prior experience has taught me it’s much worse with long hair. And if it weren’t for David, I’d be finding that out all over again.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not good luck for anyone,”
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