Okay, so how . . .
Tally yawned.
How should she . . .
She shifted positions, seeking a more comfortable place to plant her feet. The movement felt like crawling through maple syrup. Her tiny body felt heavy and sluggish. Her tiny brain felt foggy and sleepy.
She realized she was kind of cold. But the sun was warm on her shell. The surface of the rock was warm beneath her. It was like being wrapped in a heated blanket.
Tally stretched out her neck as far as it would go, pointing her beak at the sky, and closed her eyes. She knew there was something she was supposed to be thinking about. She could probably think about it later.
For now, all she wanted to do was bask in the beautiful sunshine on this beautiful rock, with the beautiful breeze brushing lightly across her beautiful green-and-brown skin. For the first time since her family’s big move a week ago, Tally felt a sense of belonging. Everything in her world felt . . . right.
Time passed.
Tally basked.
Until she heard someone shouting. The voice seemed far away, but it was getting closer. There was a screeching sound, too, and the flapping of wings.
“Look out! Look out!”
Tally slowly peeled her eyes open.
“Hey! Turtle on the rock!”
Tally’s brain kicked back on as she realized two important things: one, she was the only turtle on this rock, and two, this was the only rock in this section of the lawn.
“Move, turtle!” whoever-it-was yelled. The voice was coming from the grass to Tally’s left. “It’s right above you!”
Tally looked up to see a giant crow dropping from the sky. Its black wings were stretched wide and its sharp talons were extended toward Tally, ready to snatch her up. It opened its beak and let out another ear-piercing screech.
Tally didn’t have time to run. As a turtle, she simply wasn’t fast enough.
All she could do was cower in fear as the hungry crow closed in.
11
Friendly-Faced and Fluffy-Tailed
Just before the crow’s talons could scratch Tally’s shell, a ball of gray fur catapulted into view. The crow swerved and the other animal threw itself over Tally, making a vicious chittering noise. “Go!” it shouted. “Get out of here!”
The crow squawked with frustration and flew off in search of easier prey.
The animal on top of Tally let out a whoop of triumph. Then it knocked on Tally’s shell. “You okay in there?”
“Mmph mmph-mmph,” Tally said, unable to get a proper word out with a furry stomach covering her face.
“Sorry, what did you say?” There was a pause. “Oh.” The animal moved away fast.
Tally blinked. She still felt dizzy with fear, but when she scanned the sky, there wasn’t a crow in sight. There was only—
Ack! An enormous squirrel! Tally jumped sideways before she remembered the truth: the squirrel was normal-sized. Tally the turtle was just very small. Giggling both at herself and at the idea of an actual giant squirrel, Tally studied her friendly-faced and fluffy-tailed rescuer.
The squirrel stepped toward her, extending his paws. “Hello! Are you okay? That was terrifying! But amazing! Did you see the look on that thing’s face when it flew off? No, of course you didn’t. I was sitting on you. Well, let me tell you, it was great. I sure showed that bird who’s boss. Anyway, what’s your name? My name is—” The squirrel let out a bunch of chattering syllables, none of which Tally understood. “You can call me Chaz. I’m a squirrel, by the way. And you’re a turtle. I love turtles!”
“My name’s Tally,” Tally said. “And I’m not really a turtle—”
“How’d you get so far from the creek? Must’ve taken you all morning to crawl here. Had to bask on this particular rock, did you? I guess it is a pretty nice rock. Spectacular view.” Chaz stopped talking long enough to turn in an admiring circle.
“I’m not from the creek—”
“Well, good thing for you I was here!” Chaz beamed. “Tally, you said? That’s a nice name. Is it short for anything, like Chaz is?”
“Um.” Tally braced herself. “It’s short for Tallulah.”
To Tally’s surprise, Chaz didn’t laugh. “Oh, I like that! I do!”
“Thanks! Me too.” Tally looked over at the school. There was a different group of kids playing outside now, though it still wasn’t her class. How long had she been basking, anyway? She turned back to Chaz. “Can you help me get to the sch—”
Tally groaned as a wave of hunger washed over her. She suddenly felt like she could eat an entire sausage and pepperoni pizza . . . or whatever the turtle version of pizza was. A huge pile of leaves? A bunch of—gulp—bugs and worms?
She thought about asking Chaz if he knew what turtles ate, but then decided she didn’t care if it was bugs and worms. Her stomach was empty, and her mouth was so dry her tongue felt like a fuzzy caterpillar. “Food,” she croaked. “Water.”
Chaz jumped into action. “Okay! Yes! I will take you back to the creek!”
“That’s not what I—”
“Bite my coat, and don’t let go!” Chaz waited for Tally to clamp her jaw shut around a mouthful of musky gray fur. Then he took off running, with Tally clinging to his back.
12
With a Heroic Grunt
Tally bounced up and down, the bottom of her shell slapping rhythmically against Chaz’s back. She was too focused on clenching her jaw to tuck her limbs away, so her feet flailed in the air. Even though she was biting down as hard as she could, she could feel Chaz’s fur slip-slip-slipping through her beak.
She wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer.
Chaz suddenly skidded to a stop. Tally went flying. She tumbled over Chaz’s head, did a flip, and landed in a mud puddle, belly-up.
“Oh, wow! Are you all right?” Chaz asked. “I should have warned you we were here. Well, welcome home!” When Tally didn’t say anything, Chaz turned in a fretful circle, wringing his paws. “Tell me you’re okay, Tally. Talk to me! Talk to me!”
Tally had the wind knocked out of her, but as soon as her breath came back, she gasped, “Hard to . . . get a . . . word in.”
Chaz snickered. “You’re right, I am a chatterbox. Luckily for you, I’m quite interesting to listen to. Now, you’re upside-down. What are we going to do about that? Do you want me to flip you? Do you want me to get your family, and they can flip you?”
“Let me think for a second,” Tally said, trying not to sound as irritated as she felt. She hated being stuck on her back, helpless and ridiculous. And twice in one day! It was humiliating.
But Clementine hadn’t laughed at her, and Chaz wasn’t laughing now.
You can figure this out, Tally told herself. She wiggled her legs. She rocked from side to side and from front to back on her curved shell, testing her range of motion.
“Sure you don’t want my help?” Chaz asked, venturing closer.
“Nope!” Tally said. “I want to do this on . . .” She began to rock right and left again. “My . . .” she continued, really putting her weight into the movement. “Own!”
After a few vigorous swings, she felt her two left feet tap the earth. She dropped onto her back again immediately, but she didn’t give up. On the next tilt, she threw her head left. She stretched and stretched her neck, imagining that she was trying to bite a Starburst that was just out of reach. She stretched her tail left too, and she scratched her claws at the damp ground.
She teetered. She tottered. For a second, she was perfectly balanced on her left side. Then, with a heroic grunt, she tossed her right legs forward.
She landed on her feet. “I did it!”
Chaz applauded. “Good job! Did you know you could do that?”
Tally shook her head. “I told you, I’m not really a—”
Her stomach growled. She rushed into the creek. She paddled around, slurping water. She chomped on delicious plants. She even tried a few small insects. They weren’t nearl
y as icky as she’d expected. The flavor was slightly nutty.
She ate and drank and ate and drank, and then she burped with satisfaction.
“Better?” Chaz sat on his haunches, gnawing on an acorn.
“Better.” Tally swam back toward solid ground, feeling full and sleepy. She wanted to find a nice patch of sun to bask in for the rest of the afternoon. But she made herself focus. She was a person, not a turtle, and it was time to make things right.
“I need to get to the school,” Tally said. “Can you take me?”
“Why?” Chaz asked. “Aren’t you happy here?”
“It is nice,” Tally acknowledged, “but it’s not home.” She crawled over to Chaz and nudged him. “So, will you give me a ride?”
“Of course.” The squirrel crouched. “Hop on.”
13
What If, What If, What If?
Tally scanned the outside of the school building, looking for the windows that belonged to Mrs. Norrell’s room. She remembered cheerful sunflower-print curtains. As she and Chaz barreled closer, she spotted them. The sunflowers were rustling in the breeze.
Wait. Was the window open? That could be her way in!
“Mmmph-mm-mmmph!” Tally grunted, her jaw clenched around Chaz’s fur.
“What was that?” Chaz slowed to a stop, and Tally lowered herself to the ground. “Tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen,” Chaz said. “I’m here to help. I love helping! Talk to me, my turtle friend!”
“I keep trying to tell you, I’m not a turtle.” Tally pointed a claw toward the windows. “Can you get me up to that ledge?”
“Yep!” Chaz let Tally clamber onto his back for a third time. “But what do you mean, you’re not a turtle?” He began to climb a drain pipe up the side of the brick wall, which made Tally feel like she was dangling from a steep cliff by her mouth. “You have a turtle face and a turtle shell,” Chaz said. “You’re greenish-brown and scaly. You have a tail.”
When they reached the ledge and Tally had her feet under her again, she said, “I know I look like a turtle now, but I wasn’t a turtle when I woke up this morning.”
Chaz cocked his head. “What were you?”
“I was a person. A seven-year-old girl, to be exact.”
Chaz was properly quiet for the first time since Tally met him. “Whoa,” he finally said. “How did you end up like this?”
“I’m not sure. I was in there.” Tally nodded toward the classroom. “They were all making fun of me—”
“Making fun of you?” Chaz looked horrified. “Why?”
“My name, Tallulah. They were all laughing about it. And—”
“I can’t believe every single kid in your class was laughing at you.” Chaz shook his head, and then chittered angrily at the window.
“Well . . . some kids were, and some weren’t,” Tally admitted. “But I wasn’t sure who was who. Who was nice, and who wasn’t. I’m new here. My family just moved—”
“Which creek did you live at before?”
“You’re not listening!” Tally was growing impatient with the constant interruptions. “I’ve never lived at any creek. We had a house in another town, and now we have a house in this town. I have a mom and a dad and an older sister. They’re all humans, like me.” She paused. “I mean, like I’m supposed to be.”
Tally studied her classmates at their desks. Her eyes darted from Madison to Victoria to Nate, and then she looked down at David, who sat in the front row next to the windows. He wadded up a sheet of paper, and the second Mrs. Norrell turned her back, he threw it in an arc to Owen in the last row.
Everyone—even grouchy Victoria—looked like they belonged.
Was Tally going to belong here, too?
She’d felt brave and confident at the creek, with her belly full and her scaly skin cool in the water. Now, her stomach was queasy and her knees were wobbly. Imagine something happy, Tally told herself, but nothing came to mind. She was too busy splashing around in her troubles.
“There’s someone in that room who may be able to help me change back into a person,” she murmured. “I want to be me again! But . . . what if this new place is never as good as where I used to live? What if I never make new friends as wonderful as the ones I had before? What if I’m going to feel left out forever and ever?”
What if, what if, what if?
With a wail, Tally pulled herself inside her shell.
14
A Story about Acorns
After a moment alone in the darkness, Tally felt a tap, tap, tap on her back.
Chaz leaned down to peer at her through the shell’s opening. “Hey,” he said. Tally poked her nose out, and Chaz patted her face with a soft paw. “Can I tell you a story? It’s a story about acorns! It’s really good. Wanna hear it?”
“Sure,” Tally mumbled.
“You know that squirrels gather acorns for the winter, right?”
“Yes.”
“Before my first winter,” Chaz said, “I was scared I wouldn’t be able to collect enough to make it through. Also, I wanted to gather the right acorns—the best acorns. I worried and counted and worried and counted.” The squirrel began to pace back and forth on the windowsill, like the memory was making him agitated. “The weather got colder and colder, and I was lying awake at night thinking about all of the acorns I hadn’t gathered yet.”
Tally poked her head further out of her shell. “Did everything turn out okay?”
Chaz stopped pacing. “It did. When the first snow came, I had a lot of good acorns. When I needed a few more, I had friends who were happy to help me bring them home.”
“That’s great,” Tally said, looking into her classroom again. “But . . . what does this have to do with me?”
“Worrying doesn’t help you gather acorns any faster.”
Tally frowned, confused. “I don’t need to gather acorns.”
Chaz gave her a kind smile. “It’s exhausting, expecting the worst to happen. Wouldn’t you rather expect good things?”
“Good things like what?”
“Like having enough acorns.”
“Enough acorns,” Tally repeated slowly.
“Now, expecting good things out of life doesn’t mean you don’t have to put in any work,” Chaz cautioned. “I don’t mean you’re sitting around, waiting for the acorns to land in your lap. What I mean is, you do what you can, and you try to trust that everything will turn out okay.” Chaz looked at Tally expectantly, like he was waiting for applause.
But Tally still wasn’t sure she understood the squirrel’s point.
“When you look in that room,” Chaz said, rapping a paw against the window, “what do you see? No friends? Or new friends?”
Tally opened her mouth to answer, but Chaz didn’t let her speak.
“I try to see everyone I meet as a new friend. And guess what? Most of the time, I’m right!” Chaz rubbed his paws together. “On that note, let’s get you turned back into a human, so you can make some new friends—besides me, I mean. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“We are.” About that, Tally was one hundred percent sure. “Thank you so much, Chaz. For everything.”
“Thanks for being my friend!” Chaz measured Tally’s height with his tail and held the measurement up to the opening in the window. Then he wiggled under the frame with his shoulder and pushed up to give Tally an extra inch of clearance. “Get in there,” he said fondly, “and don’t forget to visit.”
15
Something about This Class
Tally ducked under the raised window and found herself on one of the shelves that ran along the wall of her classroom. Her classmates were still at their desks. They were now using magnifying glasses to look at different kinds of leaves.
Tally’s first thought was that she wanted to use a magnifying glass, too.
Her second thought was that the leaves looked like a tasty snack.
But she wasn’t here to eat leaves. She was here to transform back into Tally T
uttle, the human being.
“Tally!” Clementine rushed toward her and wrapped all eight legs around her in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you! How did you get up here?”
“Clementine!” Tally was overjoyed to see her spider friend. “I came in the window. What are you doing up here?”
The spider pointed with both front legs. “This is who I wanted you to meet!”
Tally looked over to see Bagel the guinea pig peering at her through the bars of his cage. “Hello, Tally,” Bagel said. His voice was squeaky, yet wise, like an old man who’d just sucked the helium out of a balloon. “I bet you’ve had quite an adventure.”
“I have,” Tally said. “How did you know?”
Bagel silently flipped the latch to his cage door. He slipped out, shutting the door behind him, and nudged Tally and Clementine behind a stack of books. “I’ve been in Mrs. Norrell’s room for five years,” he said. “I’ve seen dozens of kids transform.”
“Dozens!” Tally exclaimed. One dozen meant twelve, so dozens, plural, was lots and lots of kids. “You mean I’m not the only one?”
“Far from it,” the guinea pig said.
“Do they always turn into turtles?” Clementine asked, sounding fascinated.
“No, each child is different,” Bagel said.
“How did I transform?” Tally asked. “And why?”
“How?” Bagel shrugged. “I have no idea. There’s just something about Mrs. Norrell’s class. As for why . . .” He leaned in and gave Tally a keen look. “You tell me. Every kid has had a reason—whether they knew it or not. What happened to you today? Did you learn anything? Did anything surprise you? Did you surprise yourself?”
Tally thought about how nervous she’d been to meet her new classmates this morning. She thought about how awful it had felt to be teased, and how she’d wished she could magically disguise herself to escape.
Tally Tuttle Turns into a Turtle Page 3