Coo

by Kaela Noel

  “Help me, you,” she said. “Need to check on my flock, me.”

  The pigeon made a shocked gurgle and flapped backward.

  “Mean no harm, me!” Coo cried.

  Two more pigeons, bolder ones, swooped down and landed near Coo.

  “Speak, you!” said the larger one, a male with speckled white-and-black feathers like cookies and cream. “How?”

  “Strange!” said the other, who was all shades of purple and gray. “Humans, speak? Never!”

  “Speak, me,” Coo said.

  In the mysterious way pigeon flocks always seemed able to communicate, all at once the others were around them, streaming from every part of the playground in a rush of wings.

  “Coo?” said Aggie, wide-eyed and sitting very still on her swing as the birds zoomed around her. “Um . . . what is happening?”

  “How!” an older gray bird said, landing on Coo’s outstretched hand. “Explain, you!”

  “Learned from my flock, me,” said Coo. Nervously she looked over at the bench where Tully sat and was relieved to see she was hunched over, scowling at her knitting. Coo recognized the look. Tully had dropped another stitch. That always took a while to fix.

  “Coo?” Aggie left the swing and crouched down beside her. “Are you talking to them?”

  “Um. Sort of,” said Coo.

  “Speak more, you!” the bird on her hand demanded. “From where, you?”

  “That strange flock,” said the bird who was very purple. “Heard about them. Living with a human, them.”

  “Didn’t think you were real, me,” said a ragged-looking bird the color of sidewalk concrete, who was peering at Coo carefully. “Special, you. Very special.”

  Just like the time she helped the injured pigeon outside Goodwill so long ago, it turned out that some of the pigeons were dimly aware of her.

  “Know my flock, you?” Coo asked each bird. “Fly to them, you? Speak to them, you?”

  Coo tried to describe where her flock lived, and the suspicious visitors from the city, and why she couldn’t visit on her own. She asked if anyone could go check on them.

  But none of the pigeons knew exactly where her flock or her roof was.

  “Many flocks, here,” said the concrete-colored bird. “Many roofs.”

  “Sick flocks, heard of those,” piped up a very tiny pigeon. “Many dead. Not here.”

  Coo’s heart began to pound. She slowly stood up and began to walk back toward the swing. The pigeons flapped and scurried around her, pelting her with random questions she was too overwhelmed to answer.

  “Coo, how did you learn pigeon?” asked Aggie, following her. “Wait, are you okay?”

  “No,” Coo murmured. She felt tears burning at her eyelids again and pressed her rough wool mittens against them. Then she took a ragged breath and looked at Aggie. “Something to tell you. Secret, okay?”

  “Wow,” Aggie said when Coo had finished telling her everything, from her life with the flock and Milton Burr on the roof, to how she came to live with Tully and why she wasn’t in school.

  They were sitting on the swings again, whispering quietly, shielded from Tully’s view by a big oak. Sharing with Aggie made Coo feel relieved, like drinking a huge gulp of a puddle after a long time with no rain.

  “You believe me?” Coo asked.

  “Of course I do!” said Aggie, rattling her swing’s chains for emphasis. “It makes everything about you make sense. The way you talk, and the wild way you can talk to birds.” She shook her head. “It’s totally nuts! But I believe you. You believe me, right?”

  Coo nodded, relieved.

  “Do you know how famous you’d be if you told people about your life?” Aggie peered at Coo. “I guess it would be bad, too. I don’t think you’d get to be a normal kid.” She bit her lip. “Also, where is Dovecotia? Are your real parents there?”

  “No. Tully made it up. I lived in a dovecote. A house for pigeons. On my roof. We didn’t call it a dovecote.” Coo made the soft, whooshing sound of the pigeon word for dovecote. Aggie tried and failed to copy it.

  “Pigeon is a hard language,” said Aggie. “But why can’t you go to school?”

  “Because of rules.” Coo felt another wave of relief as the human words flowed out of her mind and mouth. At least some things were getting much easier. “No one knows I live with Tully.”

  “And Tully’s freaked out?”

  “Yes. Someone could take me away. It’s a secret.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I’ll pinky swear.”

  “Pinky swear?”

  “I bet you’ve never pinky sworn about anything, have you? Being from Dovecotia and all.” Aggie giggled. “Or do pigeons pinky swear with their toes? They’re so much smarter than I even thought.” She looked thoughtful. “Anyway, you aren’t allowed to break a pinky swear. Here.”

  Aggie showed her how to hook their pinky fingers together.

  “I promise not to tell anyone your secrets, Coo.” Aggie looked her in the eye and shook her pinky. “There! Now you don’t have to worry.”

  Walking back from the park, something strange happened.

  While they waited for a light to change on the busy road, Tully looked up at a bus stopped beside them and gasped.

  “Behind me, Coo,” she snapped, pushing Coo to one side.

  “Why?” Coo asked.

  “What’s going on, Tully?” Aggie asked.

  Tully didn’t reply. Her whole face was a mask of worry. The light changed and she hurried them home, refusing to explain. Coo stared back at the bus as it disappeared down the boulevard.

  What had Tully seen?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lucia

  Once they were back in Tully’s kitchen, it was easy to forget about the strange incident with the bus. Tully made a pot of mint tea and opened a box of half-priced strawberry donuts from Food Bazaar.

  “Mmm. These were my favorite kind of donut when I lived in Dovecotia,” said Coo.

  Tully looked up, confused.

  Coo caught Aggie’s eye, and they exchanged tiny smiles. Coo only just managed to keep herself from laughing.

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Aggie, that must be Octavia,” said Tully. “Will you get it? See if she wants a snack, too.”

  Aggie tugged open the door.

  A tall, frowning woman with sharp cheekbones and frizzy red hair stood there. She wore a long purple coat and purple snow boots, and from her ears bobbed two itty-bitty avocado halves. Coo stared. Where did she get such tiny fruit? And why would anyone hang food from their earlobes? Lucia was baffling.

  “You’re not Octavia,” said Aggie. She pushed her glasses up her nose and frowned.

  “No, dear. I’m Lucia. Who are you?” Lucia’s gaze flickered from Aggie to Tully to Coo. “Another niece?”

  “Hello, Lucia. I thought I saw you on that bus,” said Tully, her voice strange. “I’m glad you dropped by.”

  “I’m just relieved you’re okay!” Lucia raised her eyebrows. “I keep calling and calling, and I wasn’t sure anyone else would check up on you if something was wrong. What’s going on? Did I do something to offend you?”

  “You didn’t do anything, Lucia.” Tully sighed. “Aggie, you should head home now. Octavia will be back soon, and you can come over to play again tomorrow.”

  “We’re going to visit my cousins tomorrow.” Aggie pouted. “It’ll take all day. And then it will be Monday.”

  “Well, we’ll definitely miss you,” Tully said. “I’m sorry.”

  Aggie looked at Tully, then at Coo.

  “Can Coo come upstairs with me?” asked Aggie.

  “No,” said Tully. “Coo should stay here.”

  Aggie gave Coo a worried look.

  Coo bit her lip. She felt anxious, too.

  “Everything is fine, Aggie,” said Tully. “I just need to speak with Lucia.”

  “No, I can go,” said Lucia, stepping back through the doorway. “I
really don’t want to cause—”

  “No, Lucia, please stay,” said Tully. “Aggie, come back down if you have any problems or if Octavia is late, okay?”

  Aggie gathered up her coat, hat, and mittens very slowly and walked even more slowly toward the door. She gave Coo a hug and Burr a kiss and slid out into the hall. The door closed softly behind her.

  “I’ve been avoiding your phone calls, Lucia. I’m sorry,” Tully said in the silence that followed. “It has nothing to do with anything you did.”

  “What’s going on, then?” Lucia took off her coat and boots and hat. Her penny-colored hair frizzed up in a soft cloud. “You’re not acting like the Tully I know and love.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll explain, or try to.” Tully rubbed her temples. “Can I make you some tea? Some coffee?”

  “Coffee would be nice.”

  Lucia and Coo sat together at the round little table while Tully brewed a pot of coffee. Coo’s heart beat very fast. She cuddled Burr in her arms and tried not to look at Lucia. She could feel Lucia’s eyes on her. She glanced up for a moment and saw that Lucia was smiling.

  “No need to worry. I’m not as scary as I look,” Lucia said. “What’s your pigeon’s name again?”

  “Burr. Milton Burr.”

  “Nice outfit he’s wearing there,” said Lucia. “Tully’s always caring for stray birds. Not my cup of tea, but I do admire her compassion. What I would love to know, though, is how did she wind up with you, Coo?”

  Coo froze. So did Tully, standing beside the table with two mugs and the jug of milk.

  “I know both you and Ben were only children. Why won’t you tell me what’s really going on?” Lucia looked sad. “I know it’s none of my business, but I used to think we were friends, Tully. Why have you been ignoring me?”

  Coo never knew silence could be so loud.

  “I’ve been avoiding you because—because I’m in trouble,” said Tully. She slowly set the mugs and milk down on the table. “It has to do with Coo.”

  “I had a feeling it was all connected,” said Lucia.

  “I’m hoping—” Tully paused, then took a deep breath. “I’m hoping you can help me.”

  “Of course I want to help you, Tully. Why didn’t you tell me sooner you were in trouble?”

  “I’ve been scared.”

  “Scared? Why?” Lucia looked from Tully to Coo and back again. “Is someone threatening you? Where did Coo come from? Whose child is she?”

  “Tully rescued me,” Coo blurted out.

  “Coo, wait,” said Tully. “Let me—”

  “Rescued you from where?” Lucia turned to Coo. “Tully’s long-lost sister?”

  “Coo’s not really my niece,” Tully said quietly.

  “From my flock,” said Coo. “On the roof.”

  “Your flock of what?” Lucia blinked, then frowned. “On what roof?”

  “I can explain,” said Tully. “It will take a while, though.”

  “I don’t need to be anywhere,” said Lucia. “And believe me, I want all the details.”

  Tully poured milk and sugar into the coffee cups and told Lucia everything: how after the post office forced her out, she started feeding the pigeons in the alley more often, and about the day she crossed paths with Coo, who gave her Milton. She explained about knowing Coo needed help and how she came back with the police, who didn’t take her seriously. Tully described visiting every day, hoping to find Coo, and glimpsing her on the roof once. She told Lucia about how the police wouldn’t promise to check again when the blizzard was on its way, so she went out in the storm to find Coo herself.

  Lucia listened, nodding. Her eyes went wide at times, and at other times she wrinkled her eyebrows like she wasn’t quite sure she believed what she was hearing. A few times she ran her hands through her hair and shook her head, like she was truly shocked.

  Sometimes Coo interrupted Tully and told her own parts of the story. She told Lucia about learning to speak and live like a human. About her first trip to Food Bazaar, and about her favorite new foods and the amazing warmth of real clothes. She described her years with the pigeons and how she spoke their language. She talked about Aggie and ballet.

  Outside the light grew dim. Purplish dusk arrived, and the yellow lamps on Tully’s street lit up.

  Lucia asked about how Coo survived, how she ate, and about Coo’s real parents. Who were they? Why did they leave her in the alley? But no one could answer those questions. Not even Burr.

  Lucia stood up and paced back and forth in front of the table. “I don’t know where to begin,” she said.

  “I know. And I’m so sorry I’ve been avoiding you, Lucia.” Tully looked at her and seemed to wince. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been terrified. It made me panic.”

  “I get it, and I won’t hold a grudge. I’m just a bit shocked.” Lucia sighed. “You’re in a very difficult spot.”

  “I want to adopt Coo. I want it more than anything.” Tully looked up at Lucia. “Do you know anything about how to do it? Especially for someone in my situation?”

  “Of course, when I was a caseworker I used to handle adoptions all the time. None this like this, though, I’ll give you that.”

  Tully’s shoulders slumped.

  “But maybe it’s not hopeless,” said Lucia. She sat down at the table again and patted Tully’s hand. “Let’s see. There are qualifications you’d have to meet.”

  “I know I would need to move,” Tully said quietly. “I looked that up.”

  “Yes. You need at least two bedrooms.”

  “I don’t know if my pension income is enough, or if I’m too old.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that as much.”

  “What would you worry about?”

  “How Coo came to live with you. The fact that you didn’t call the police when you should have.” Lucia made a low whistle and shook her head. “That will be a tough one for the courts to get past. And the fact you haven’t taken her to a doctor—have you?”

  “I was planning on it,” said Tully. “Soon . . .”

  “And that we don’t know where Coo really came from or if her real family is looking for—”

  “The flock is my real family!” interrupted Coo. “Cared for me, them.”

  She could tell from the way Lucia looked at her that she didn’t really believe that Coo had lived with pigeons all those years.

  “Before that, you came from somewhere else,” Lucia said, more gently than Coo expected. “You have a family out there somewhere. A mother who gave birth to you, though it sounds like she couldn’t keep you. The state will want to try to figure out who she is.”

  Coo fell silent. She didn’t like thinking about the things Lucia talked about. Not at all.

  “I’m afraid of being rejected. Of Coo being taken away,” Tully said. Her voice was strangely tight and high. “I was hoping—I was hoping we could just continue on as we are.”

  “But what would happen to Coo if something happened to you?” Lucia looked stern. “Bad things can occur at any age. Fate is unpredictable.”

  “I know. I’ve worried about that so much.” Tully began to cry. Not the soft crying like when she was thinking about Ben, or the happy tears when Coo made her a card. Heavy crying. Scared crying.

  It frightened Coo.

  “Has Coo never seen a doctor at all?” asked Lucia. “Not even at one of those walk-in urgent care places?”

  “No,” Tully whispered. “She seemed fine, and I was still figuring it out.”

  “The dentist?”

  “Oh dear.” Tully winced.

  “I try to avoid thinking about the dentist, too,” said Lucia. She pursed her lips. “But it’s not good. Tully, I think you want to be a great caregiver for Coo, and I want to help you, but you have to take the next steps and make everything legal before anything goes wrong. Get a lawyer. Contact the police. You’re my friend but if you can’t do it . . .” Lucia trailed off. “You just really need to figure this out. Coo needs to
get medical care, and we need to find out more about who she is.”

  Tully nodded. “Give me just a little time, Lucia. I’m going to straighten this out, somehow. I promise.”

  After Lucia left, Coo lay in her nest on the floor. She did not want to dance. She did not want to eat. She did not want to draw or talk or look at books. She stared at Tully’s basket of knitting. Burr sat on her shoulder and asked her if she was sick, but she didn’t know how to answer. He nudged Queenie off the loveseat and dragged her over to Coo, who gave her doll a halfhearted squeeze. Lucia had scared her so much, she could hardly think.

  Tully made hot chocolate and brought two cups over—a big one for Coo and a tiny one for Queenie. “Everything will be okay,” Tully said as she carefully placed the drinks on the floor. “I’m sure Lucia will help us.” But she said it in a shaky, hard-swallowing way that made Coo think she was wishing and hoping, not promising.

  “Lucia asks many questions!” Coo said miserably.

  “She really wants to help, I think, even after how I treated her,” said Tully. “I just hope I haven’t done so much wrong that we can’t make it right.”

  “She could leave us alone!”

  “And how would that help us?” said Tully. “I’m honestly relieved I finally got everything off my chest. She knows the system. If anyone can help us, it’s Lucia.”

  “We don’t need help,” Coo said fiercely. “We are a family, Tully.”

  “Of course we are. No one can change that. But we’re a complicated one.”

  Tully pushed the hot chocolate toward her with a hopeful look. Coo dove back into her nest, pulling Queenie over her eyes. She heard Tully sigh.

  The next morning was Sunday. Tully shut the door to her room and made a series of mysterious phone calls. Coo sat just outside, feeding Burr toast crumbs and trying to listen. She heard her name and the words foster and adopt, money and move, but nothing made sense.

  “Scared, me,” she whispered to Burr, and tried again to explain about Lucia, authorities, and the way humans made rules about one another.

  “Not scared, you,” he replied. “With me, you. Safe, you.”