First Came the Owl by Judith Benét Richardson Page B

no Thailand report appeared in the jumble.
    â€œI can’t find my Thailand report,” said Nita. She searched in her school bag and knocked over the jam.
    â€œYour report’s in the fruit bowl under the bananas, of course,” said Petrova. “Hey, we glued your coffin together again yesterday. I hear you wrecked it the first time, so could you please be more careful?”
    Mrs. S. looked at Nita. “Your coffin?”
    â€œFor the play,” muttered Nita. She found her report in the fruit bowl and headed out of there before anyone could ask another question.
    All week, she’d managed to forget the last act of the play when she had to get in that damned, yes damned, coffin. Just calling it that made her feel a little bit better, but at the rehearsal, when David and the dwarfs carried it in from the back porch of the school, Nita shivered. An actual cold shudder ran up her spine.
    â€œThree of us on each side and one for her head,” said the dwarf Pokey.
    â€œI don’t think I can,” said Nita, and her heart thumped.
    â€œYes, get in,” said Sleepy. “I’d love to get in there and snore.”
    â€œBut drop it very carefully, guys,” said Amy.
    â€œ Very carefully,” said David, “or the sides will fall off, and that will look ridiculous.”
    â€œI really don’t want to,” said Nita.
    â€œYou have to. And you have to be dropped. Otherwise, how will the poison apple get unstuck from your throat? Trust us, Nita,” said Amy. Her brown eyes were serious.
    It was hard to say no to Amy.
    Nita couldn’t believe she was doing it, but once more she got into the plastic box and let them close the lid. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. And like a vision, the snowy owl, soaring over the beach, sprang into her waiting mind. Her breathing slowed down and she rested.
    A loud whisper made her eyes fly open. Henry knelt by the coffin and practically spit his words through the air holes. “Oh, Princess S. W.,” he slobbered, “I cannot live without you.”
    No one heard him but Nita.
    â€œSpeak up, Henry,” said Amy. “Throw your voice to the back of the room.”
    Henry stood up and stomped off the stage. This time he galloped in, as if he were on a prancing horse. He waved his sword toward the coffin. “I must have her,” he shouted. “Get going, dwarfs, and carry her to my castle.”
    Nita lay in the plastic coffin. Through the plastic she could see Henry waving his sword. It looked like a crazy world out there with Henrys in it. Right now, I don’t mind it in here. At least I’m protected from the spit.
    â€œTime out,” called Amy. Her words came faintly to Nita.
    Saved! David opened the coffin and Nita sat up to see what had called a halt to the action. Sounds got louder and there was a bustle around the door.
    â€œMa!” said Henry. He tripped over his sword as he headed toward a large pile of clothes that was moving into the room on two little legs. “Is that you, Ma?”
    â€œIn here,” said a muffled voice from the pile of clothes. The clothes landed on a desk, and Mrs. Sporoni rubbed her back. “There now. Costumes. Dwarf jackets and a fabulous skirt for you, Anita, if I do say so myself.” Mrs. Sporoni beamed at Nita, even if she didn’t get her name right, and brought the fabulous skirt over to her. It was embroidered with white flowers that had embroidered holes. You could see the pale pink underskirt through the cutwork.
    Nita fingered the fabric shyly. “Did you do all that fancy sewing?” she asked.
    â€œLord, no,” said Mrs. Sporoni. “It’s my old tablecloth. Doesn’t it look great? Get out of your coffin, lovey, and I’ll slip it over your head.”
    The waist fit perfectly and the silk underskirt rustled when Nita walked. Maybe being in the play wouldn’t be so bad, wearing this dress. On the other