Give and Take

by Elly Swartz

  Across the huddle, Mason’s eyes fall on me.

  Dad finishes with a “Fight hard!”

  All hands meet in the middle of our circle. Together we yell, “Let’s go!”

  The circle disbands. Ava and Gracie start talking about the Clay Birds’ best shooter, some kid named George.

  Sam wanders away from the group.

  I follow her. “You okay?”

  She shrugs, then stares at me with serious eyes. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “Always,” I say.

  “This is a cross-your-heart kind of secret.”

  I nod.

  Sam leans in close. “I switched the shells,” she whispers, biting her lip.

  This was not the kind of secret I thought she was going to share. “What do you mean?”

  She inches even closer. “I swapped the steel shells for lead ones.”

  “How?”

  “I snuck the lead shells into the steel-shell box.”

  The air slowly leaks out of my lungs.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Think about it, Maggie. If I use the lead shells, I have a real chance of winning.”

  “You can’t do that, Sam.”

  “The shells are already in the box,” she says, “ready to go.”

  “But those lead shells are banned here, just like at our club. They can poison the environment and turtles like Bert.”

  Sam puts her head on my shoulder. “Maggie, I would never do it if Bert was anywhere near here. I promise. But he’s not. And no one will ever know I switched them.”

  “I’ll know,” I say, nervous creeping up my back.

  “But you promised to keep my secret.” Sam grabs my hands.

  My stomach twists.

  “Maggie, please. I just want him to be proud of me. One time,” Sam says.

  I think about Dad and how lucky I am to have that feeling all the time. Then I promise to keep my friend’s secret.

  51

  A Big Fat Mistake

  “You’re the best,” Sam says, hugging me tight.

  We head back to the Eagle Eyes canopy.

  “I need some volunteers to grab the rest of the waters from the back of the van,” Dad says to the group.

  “I’ll go,” I say.

  “Me too.” It’s Mason.

  On the way there, I leap over a puddle, stumble, and land, splat, in the water. The murky mix splashes all over my legs. As I lift my muddy boot from the water, I see a small turtle. Like Bert, but without the heart-shaped spot. I bend down. I miss my shelled friend. Wonder where he is. Then I wonder about this fella. Sam said she’d never do anything that would hurt Bert, but what about all the animals like Bert? What will Sam’s lead shells do to their homes?

  As I think of all the turtles and fish and frogs that live out here, my brain spins. And deep down in the place that knows my truths, I realize I’ve made a mistake.

  A big fat mistake.

  “You all right?” Mason asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Why?”

  “You got crazy pale all of a sudden. The only time that ever happened to me, I fainted.”

  I point to the turtle. “I just miss Bert.”

  Almost the whole truth.

  When we get to the van, I ask him, “What would you do if someone told you a secret that if you shared, could hurt a friend? But if you didn’t, other bad things could happen.”

  “For real? Or is this from that Litmus game you told me about? I’m only on level three,” he says.

  “It’s not from Litmus.”

  This is about Sam. But I can’t say that.

  “Did you promise you wouldn’t tell?”

  I nod.

  “Then you can’t say anything. Or you’ll be breaking a promise.”

  I know that’s true. But I wonder if keeping this secret is worse than breaking a promise.

  When we get back with the waters, Dad says we have some time before the kickoff meeting. I leave the group and find a big, flat rock to sit on, away from everyone else. My brain is filled with things that don’t make sense. I take out my phone and call the only other person I need to talk to.

  “I thought you’d be on the range already,” Gramps says. The familiar rhythm of his voice feels like Nana’s blue afghan.

  “Soon. The teams are still registering.”

  “Oh.”

  “Any Bert sightings?” Figure I might as well ask while we’re talking.

  “Nope, but have faith. He’ll come back.”

  I wonder how Gramps can still be so sure of this. Of anything.

  “How’s the garden?” I know I’m procrastinating, but I don’t know how to start.

  “You called me from your tournament to ask me about the garden that you helped me weed yesterday?”

  “Well, there’s this other thing,” I say.

  “Listening.”

  I tell Gramps about Sam’s secret and my promise.

  He’s silent.

  That can’t be good. He’s never quiet.

  “You need to tell your dad.”

  “The coach of our squad?”

  “Yep, that’s the one.”

  I hang up my phone and head back to the team. Gramps is right. I need to do something. Talk to someone. But he’s wrong about who.

  When I find Sam, she’s under the team tent, playing Litmus on her phone. I tap her shoulder. “We need to talk.”

  I move to a space empty of trapshooters, and Sam follows.

  “I’ve changed my mind. You can’t use the lead shells,” I whisper. “It’s wrong.”

  Her hands fly to her hips, and in a voice splashed with anger, she says, “It’s not wrong! It’s not even a big deal.”

  “It is a big deal! They’re banned for a reason. Animals could get hurt.”

  “Maggie, nothing bad is going to happen.”

  “But it could,” I say, filled with worry.

  “But it won’t.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  She stares at me for a long minute. “What are you going to do? Run and tell your dad?”

  I don’t answer.

  “You can’t go back on your word,” she says.

  “I’m begging you to do the right thing, Sam.”

  “And I’m begging you to keep your promise, Maggie. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

  52

  Consequences

  My insides dip and dive. I don’t know what to do.

  I think of Bert.

  The puddle turtle.

  Sam.

  Her dad.

  My dad.

  “Twenty minutes to the start, everyone,” Dad calls to the group. Then he pats my shoulder and smiles.

  I look at him and my confusion finds a path. I wait until the squad disperses, and quietly, ask him to take a walk with me.

  Dad and I move past the coaches with hot coffee, the gray cabin, and the oak trees on the path. We keep going. I don’t want to run into anyone. We wind around to the left and onto an empty trail in the woods.

  “Dad, what I’m going to tell you is between us. You and me. Not me and Coach.”

  He looks confused.

  “I need my dad right now, not my coach.”

  “Okay.” He sits next to me on a tree stump. “What’s going on?” His eyes search mine for answers.

  When all the words are out, the air is filled with broken promises.

  Dad lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. “I’m proud of you for telling me.”

  “What’s going to happen to Sam?”

  “I’m not entirely sure of all the consequences, but I do know she won’t be participating in today’s tournament.”

  My breath sticks in my throat. “Dad, please don’t do that. Just tell her not to use the lead shells. The tournament hasn’t even started yet.”

  “The rules are clear, Maggie. What Sam did is a serious violation.”

  “I wouldn’t have told you if I knew you were going to kick her out of the tournament,”
I say. “Just talk to her. Please! Or pick a different punishment.”

  “Maggie, you did the right thing even if the consequences aren’t what you thought they’d be.”

  “She’ll hate me,” I say.

  “It’s going to be okay, Maggie.” Dad kisses my forehead. “But we need to get back.”

  “I’ll meet you over there.” I think about Bert, Izzie, and Sam. And the swarm of feelings buzzing in my brain.

  I’m still sitting on the stump when Dad’s text comes through about an emergency squad meeting. The kickoff safety meeting is about to start, and the groups are moving into the fenced-in area. Dad and my squad are at our canopy. Well, my sort-of squad.

  It’s Mason and Ava and Gracie.

  Sam is missing.

  “There’s been a change in the plan for the day,” Dad says. “Sam’s not going to be joining us.”

  I swallow hard.

  Ava looks at me. Eyes wide. I say nothing. I know why Sam’s leaving. And I know what she did was wrong. But her leaving still feels bad.

  “Luckily,” Dad says, “Belle was here today, registered and shooting for one of the other Eagle Eyes squads. She’s graciously agreed to shoot, instead, with our squad. We’ve made the necessary changes at registration. We compete shortly, so gather your things and head over to the kickoff meeting.”

  “Wait, where’s Sam?” Ava asks.

  “She violated team rules, and her mom is on her way to pick her up.”

  “Her mom’s coming to the tournament now?” Gracie says.

  Dad nods.

  “What did she do?” Ava asks.

  “She made a mistake. And there are consequences.”

  “What kind of mistake?”

  “The details aren’t important right now,” Dad says. “We need to regroup and head out.”

  At that moment, I see Belle walking toward our tent and give her a grateful-for-you hug. Then I notice Dad talking to a linebacker-size man with a bushy beard, wearing a Bruins cap.

  Mason’s father is here.

  53

  Find My Way

  Our squad, which feels nothing like our squad, is called. I hear Ava tell Belle that the Clay Birds are in the lead.

  We take our places.

  As squad leader, I step into position one. Mason follows, in two, then Ava, Gracie, and Belle. The scorer, in a neon-yellow shirt, sitting in a high wooden chair, nods that he’s ready. I look at my squad. They’re ready.

  “Pull!” I call.

  The neon-orange clay disc sails into the air, and with it comes a million sorries to Sam and a missing filled with forever good-byes. I try to focus, but the tears roll down my cheeks and all I see is the cloudy watercolor of a disc. The disc crashes to the ground.

  I take a deep breath. I have to do better. For me. For Sam. For my squad.

  When it’s my turn again, I reposition my feet. Start at the beginning. Left foot in front of right, feed the shell into the side, click the black button underneath. I lift my gun, square it on my shoulder, then lean in. “Pull!” I yell a second time.

  Let the snowman be your guide.

  I see the disc. It’s mine. I release the trigger and watch as the sky fills with a million tiny pieces of neon orange.

  I find my way.

  We all find our way.

  It’s a long day. When all the squads finish, we wait while the officials calculate the scores. Then a man in a navy shirt and khaki pants announces there needs to be a shootoff. Two players are tied for second place.

  I cross my toes, and Ava squeezes my hand.

  Khaki Pants says, “Can Maggie Hunt and George Taylor come to field two?” And I feel Dad’s arms wrap around me.

  I step up to the field. George is from Clay Birds. We need to shoot until someone misses.

  I go first. Hit the clay pigeon. Orange rain.

  George does the same.

  This goes on for ten shots. And then we’re told to move back ten feet and begin again.

  “Pull!” I watch the bird, pull the trigger, and the wind sweeps in from the right.

  “Loss,” Khaki Pants yells from his high chair.

  “Pull!” George calls. I watch him focus and shoot. The disc shatters. His squad erupts in loud cheers.

  Our squad takes second place, and I take third in the individuals. As I walk over to the circle of picnic tables where the awards will be handed out, I see Mason at the food table, digging into the chip bowl.

  “Hey,” I say, grabbing a handful of barbecue potato chips.

  “Hi,” he says. “You were, um, I mean, you shot amazing today.”

  “Thanks.” I feel the heat pepper my face and neck. “Is that your dad?” I ask, pointing to the man walking toward us wearing a Bruins cap.

  “Yep. He came to see the best almost-all-girl trapshooting team.”

  “What changed?” I ask.

  “I made burgers last night with fried eggs and lots of hot sauce. Just like the ones from Burger Shack.”

  I smile.

  “And your dad came by,” he says.

  “Your house?” I ask. I didn’t even know Dad knew where Mason lived.

  He nods. “Your dad and my dad talked for a while, and then my dad and I talked. For the first time in maybe forever. I told him that I want him to be a part of my life. And that includes trap.” He exhales. “It was a start.”

  “A really good start,” I say.

  54

  Did You Know?

  On the ride home, I sit with Ava. I overhear Gracie leaving a message for Sam. Then another. But Sam’s not answering. Confusion bleeds through the van. They still don’t know what happened. I do, but won’t say anything. This is Sam’s story to tell. Mason’s across the aisle from me. This time no one sings, even though we came in second. Our medals are on the seat next to Dad, who’s called a squad meeting for later this week. For now, however, he said we should enjoy our success.

  When we pull into the parking lot, it’s late. The bright lights drape across the dark lot. After all the members of my squad are picked up, Dad and I get into his truck. I put my trap bag in the back, and Dad leans over and says, “Great job today, Maggie.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m not just talking about trap.” He looks at me. “You did the right thing even when the right thing was hard to do.”

  We listen to The Best of Bob Dylan. I stare out the window at the moon. I wonder if Izzie and Bert see it.

  When we walk in the front door, Mom hugs me first. She’s smiling. I know Dad told her what I did. And that our team came in second and I came in third.

  Then Charlie comes in. Eyes big and bright. He squeezes me hard. “Did you know that one time in London they found a hamster and a cat and a dinosaur on the train?” Then he adds, “The dinosaur was the blow-up kind, but the others were real.”

  “No, I can honestly say that I didn’t know.”

  Then Dillon comes in. He’s carrying something. “Did you know that one time in the town of Maker on Brookville Drive they found a turtle in a puddle?” he asks.

  Then from behind his back he pulls a turtle with a bright-orange belly and a heart-shaped spot on his shell.

  55

  Forever Pet

  My happiness bursts from the bottoms of my feet. “Bert!” I hug my forever pet. “How did you find him? Where did you find him?”

  “You’re never going to believe it. You know the woman who lives in the spooky ranch with the crooked black shutters, the house we always skip on Halloween?” Dillon asks.

  I nod.

  “She found Bert!”

  I remember talking to her. She was the one who said he could get run over, shell and all.

  “Where?”

  “In her yard in a puddle that was left over from the rain last night,” Dillon says.

  “She recognized the heart-shaped marking from the missing-turtle flyer and called the number on it,” Mom says.

  “We found him, Maggie!” Charlie says, dancing in a circl
e around Bert.

  “You’re the best finder,” I say to my little brother.

  “Izzie is still gone, though,” he adds.

  “I know, Bear. But you’re here.”

  That’s when I know we’re all exactly where we belong.

  After a celebration filled with banana ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream, I take Bert upstairs to my room. When I put him in his plastic tub, he looks happy to be home.

  I hang with him awhile, then wash my hands and close my bedroom door. I text Sam for the fifth time. When she doesn’t respond again, I reluctantly take out a box. My pockets are empty, but I need to toss another item on my chart. Today, it’s something from my newest box. A number seven, the frog binkie.

  I move around the threads and the photo album and lay the binkie on my lap. My mind trails back to one afternoon with Izzie. I was studying for my math test and Izzie wouldn’t stop crying until I gave her this binkie with the green frog and rocked her gently. I squeeze the binkie.

  Batman sits next to me. He sniffs the floor, the box, and the binkie. Then mouths the binkie with the green frog.

  “Drop it,” I say. “You can’t help me with this, Batman.” He spits out the binkie and licks my face.

  Together we leave my room and walk down to the garbage can of parent-inspected, doctor-ordered trash.

  I hold Izzie’s binkie in my hand for an extralong beat and then toss it into the metal can.

  I should feel proud. That’s what Dr. Sparrow says. I wait for the feeling to come, but it doesn’t. I go upstairs and peek into the room that was Izzie’s. I decide my pride might be stuck behind my missing. I leave the empty room and visit with Bert, who’s happily resting on his rock.

  “What do you think he did on his big adventure?” Dillon asks, coming into my room.

  “I bet he went to the zoo and played with other turtles,” Charlie says, joining us around the tub. “Maybe he made a new friend.”

  “That’s people, Bear,” Dillon says.

  “Maybe he made a friend,” Charlie says.

  “Maybe he did, Bear,” I say, scooping up my little brother and putting him in my lap.

  Just like that, the missing goes away.