Fish in a Tree

by Lynda Mullaly Hunt

  “And we’ll help you,” Albert says.

  “But I worry that maybe he can’t help me,” I say. And then I mumble, “It . . . it makes me feel like I’ll grow up to be a nobody.”

  “How can you say that?” Keisha asks.

  “Well, you’ll probably have some big successful baking company and Albert will . . . do whatever in the world Albert will do. And I’m just hoping to read a menu in a restaurant.”

  Keisha steps up and puts her arm around my shoulders. “You say he’s going to help you, right?”

  “You say”—Albert adds and then pauses to think—“that you’ll grow up to be nobody. But logically . . . if nobody’s perfect . . . well then, you must be perfect.”

  “Perfect? Me? Uh . . . no,” I say.

  “You are pretty perfect, Ally,” Keisha says, laughing. “Do like Mr. Daniels says. Be yourself. Be who you are.”

  “You know,” Albert says, “I’ve wondered about that saying. And I can’t ever find an answer anywhere on the Internet.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “‘Be yourself.’ You always hear that.”

  “So?” Keisha asks.

  “Well,” Albert begins, “what if you don’t know who you are?”

  I get what he means, I think.

  “People ask what you want to be when you grow up. I know what kind of grown-up I want to be. But I don’t know who I am now.” Albert stretches his legs out. “There are always people ready to tell you who you are, like a nerd or a jerk or a wimp.”

  I think how it’s hard not to believe the bad stuff.

  “Look at it this way,” Albert says. “If you had to be in a tank of water with a killer whale or a stonefish, which would you choose?”

  “Well, duh. Who is going to choose a killer whale?”

  “Well, in the wild, killer whales never attack people. Like never. A stonefish is way more dangerous with its thirteen venomous spines. It’s the words. If the killer whale were called the friendly whale, no one would be scared.”

  And I think of words. The power they have. How they can be waved around like a wand—sometimes for good, like how Mr. Daniels uses them. How he makes kids like me and Oliver feel better about ourselves. And how words can also be used for bad. To hurt.

  My grandpa used to say to be careful with eggs and words, because neither can ever be fixed. The older I get, the more I realize how smart my grandpa was.

  CHAPTER 35

  A Picture Is Worth a Gazillion Words

  We have a sub. This is bad news.

  Then it gets even worse. We begin with an assignment to write about a person that we know who is brave.

  I start to come up with reasons to get out of the assignment. Go to the nurse? I haven’t yet met a sub who says no to a trip to the nurse when you tell them you’re going to throw up on their shoes.

  I put on my “sick look.” Just as I’m about to raise my hand, the sub turns to the class. “Where is Ally Nickerson?”

  Huh? Freaky.

  I raise my hand.

  “Oh, I have a note here that says that you don’t have to write, so you can just draw a picture of your person.”

  My face gets hot.

  “Well, that figures,” Shay says. “She can practice her coloring. And then there will be Play-Doh and nap time.”

  My toes curl in my sneakers and I slide down into my chair. The sub looks at Shay and shakes her head, but kids are already laughing, so what’s the difference?

  The sub gives everyone else a piece of lined paper and she gives me a plain one.

  I sit, stunned. Wondering why Mr. Daniels would do this—betray me. Now I feel like I really am going to throw up.

  I stand and have to concentrate on walking to move toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” the sub asks.

  “Out.”

  “You come back here and do your picture. Now. I mean it.”

  “I’m finished.”

  “What are you talking about? It’s blank.”

  “No, it’s not blank. I drew a ghost in a blizzard.”

  As the door slams behind me, I hear kids laughing at my answer.

  • • •

  Soon I am keeping Mrs. Silver’s chair warm.

  “So, Miss Nickerson. I must admit that I have enjoyed not seeing you lately. Things seem to be better with Mr. Daniels as your teacher. He’s keeping you in line?”

  “Yeah. He’s a peach,” I say with cut in my voice. “Are you going to call my mom?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I want you to call her. Please call her.”

  “Why?”

  “Please?” I ask. I don’t even know why I’m asking exactly.

  She looks surprised but is silent. She dials the phone and talks for a bit. Tells her that I’ve had a tough day. Then she hands the phone to me. “She would like to speak with you.”

  I take the phone from her.

  “Ally. What in the world is going on?”

  I try not to cry, I really do, but the tears leak from my eyes. Everything is so tight inside and I’m so tired of it being this way. It’s not like I wake up every day planning to be a failure. And I thought I had finally found someone to help me. And then Mr. Daniels pulls this . . .

  “Ally? Did you hear me?”

  “Mom?” is all I can get out, but it’s squeaky and filled with longing to pull her through the phone wires to sit with me.

  I hear it in her voice. She feels as upset as I do. “Put Mrs. Silver back on the phone.”

  Mrs. Silver listens for a bit and finally says, “Oh. Okay, Mrs. Nickerson. We’ll be in touch, then.”

  I head to the bathroom and sit in a stall long enough for the evidence of crying to go away.

  When I get back to class, I ask Keisha to help me write a note so I’m sure it’s all correct. I leave it on Mr. Daniels’s desk: “I’m never reading after school or playing chess with you ever again. Not ever.”

  • • •

  That afternoon, I drop onto my usual spot at Petersen’s. I wonder what my mom will say about the call from school.

  When she comes over, she kisses the top of my head. Which says it all.

  “So, a ghost in a blizzard, huh?” She smiles at me.

  I half smile. “Yeah.”

  “Pretty funny, I think.” She leans over and puts her hand on my cheek, and it’s everything I can do not to cry right there in front of everyone.

  “I trusted him,” I tell her. “He was the first teacher who . . .” And I stop because I can’t say the words.

  “You know, honey, I bet there’s an explanation for this. I bet Mr. Daniels didn’t mean for this to happen. Give him a chance, okay?”

  I nod. I hope she’s right, because I want to think that Mr. Daniels doing something mean to anyone is like a fish swimming upside down and backward.

  CHAPTER 36

  In the Game of Life . . .

  First thing, Mr. Daniels calls me into the hallway. “So, I heard there was a little bit of trouble yesterday.”

  I fold my arms.

  “Teachers often leave special instructions for a sub, but she was not supposed to share my notes with the class. I figured I’d write her a note telling her you could do a picture so she didn’t pressure you to write . . . I know that you struggle and I thought I was helping you. But I see I shouldn’t have handled it by singling you out that way. Ally, I think you know I would never hurt you on purpose.”

  I do know that. And I am so relieved to hear him say it.

  “So, I’m sorry, Ally. I really am. I hope you can forgive me.” He holds out his hand to shake. And I shake back.

  • • •

  That afternoon, Mr. Daniels moves his king, placing it on a black square between his own bishop an
d my knight. And I see the three of us. Albert, Keisha, and me.

  With Keisha as a bishop. Tall and powerful and able to move across the entire board in one move.

  With Albert being the king—the piece with a ton of value but the one unable to move more than one space at a time. Always taking tiny steps. Always running from and hiding behind the others.

  And then there’s the knight. The piece that Mr. Daniels says is the clever one. The best piece for catching opponents in a fork. A piece that moves only in an L. I feel like I am the knight, as I’ve spent my whole life jumping over things.

  Shay is the queen. The piece with the most power to move and frighten. The piece most protected and sacrificed for.

  I realize that dealing with Shay every day is like playing chess. She is always looking for your weakness, always trying to get you flustered and force you into a mistake. Against her, you have to remember that the board is always changing and moving. Keep your eyes open. Be careful. Have a plan. Realize that you can only stay on the defensive for so long—eventually, you have to take a stand. But no matter what, don’t give up. Because, every once in a while, a pawn becomes a queen.

  “Well?” Mr. Daniels asks, pulling me from my mind movie. “You’ve been thinking a long time over there. Thinking about your move?”

  I look back down.

  I search. I haven’t beaten him lately and I so want to.

  And then I see it.

  It’s the knight. The answer is in the knight.

  I pick it up, move it, and hold my finger on the top to be sure I haven’t made a mistake.

  Yup, I’ve put his king in check and given him nowhere else to move.

  “Checkmate.”

  He throws up his hands but seems happy.

  “You didn’t let me win, right?”

  “Ally. I have three brothers. I am not capable of letting someone win.” He laughs a little. “I think you’re just invincible.” And then he winks and begins taking the pieces off the board and putting them in the box. I am sad the game is over and I’m relieved that I trust him again.

  And isn’t it funny—I’ve gone from invisible to invincible.

  CHAPTER 37

  A Chicken, a Wolf, and a Problem

  Because it’s Fantastico Friday, Mr. Daniels has planned a puzzle for us to solve.

  He draws some squiggly lines from top to bottom on the board and tells us it’s a river. Then he proves he is the worst artist ever by drawing a chicken, a wolf, and a bag of grain on one side of the water.

  “Mr. Daniels! Did you draw that with your eyes closed?” Oliver yells. “No offense, but that’s terrible!”

  He laughs. “I’m not offended, Oliver. I have eyes to see it.” Then he looks at me. “We are not all wired to be gifted artists.”

  Then he adds a little boat, which looks a lot like a banana, on the bank of the river.

  “Okay,” he says. “Here is your problem to solve. You need to get all three of these items across the river, but you can only take one item at a time in the boat. You can’t leave the wolf alone with the chicken because the chicken will become lunch. You can’t leave the chicken with the grain or the grain will become lunch. So, how do you get all three items across the river? Remember, only one item in the boat at a time.”

  “Easy!” Oliver yells. “You just take the chicken first.”

  “What happens after that?”

  “Then you take the grain.”

  “But what will happen to the grain when you go back for the wolf?”

  After a couple of seconds, Oliver drapes himself over his desk. Mr. Daniels pats Oliver on the back. “It’s okay, kiddo. It’s supposed to be hard.”

  Mr. Daniels turns to Suki. “Any idea?”

  She puts her pointer finger on her chin. “If you take grain first . . . wait . . . if you take wolf . . .” She sighs and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  Albert’s eyebrows are so scrunched up, they look like they’ll cover his eyes.

  “Take a few minutes to try to solve this on your own. Then we’ll talk about it in a bit.”

  I can’t figure it out. No one can. Most kids have drawn a river and the animals like Mr. Daniels did. After a while, kids start talking to each other. I’m surprised when he doesn’t tell us to be quiet while we try to keep solving it.

  I tear off three little pieces of paper and draw the chicken on the first, the grain on the second, and the wolf on the third. I move them around, back and forth across the river. The class is loud now. I pick up my three pieces of paper and ask Mr. Daniels if I can work in the hallway because of the noise.

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  I’m out there just a few minutes, moving my pieces around, when Shay and Jessica come out. They sit across the hall from me. I guess they came out here to work, too?

  “This is dumb,” Jessica says.

  “Tell me about it,” Shay answers. “Who cares about chickens and wolves or whatever.”

  “Do you know the answer, Ally?” Jessica asks.

  “Why are you asking her? Of course she doesn’t know,” Shay says. She whispers something to Jessica, and soon after, Shay is holding up signs with words. “Can you read this, Ally?”

  I try to ignore them. I am not going to let her see me upset. I remember: Life with Shay is like playing chess. Don’t get flustered. Don’t make mistakes.

  “Aw . . . you can’t read it, can you?” The baby voice doesn’t bother me as much as the words themselves. I try to concentrate on solving this problem.

  Shay moves closer to me. “You. Are. So. Stupid, Ally. You know, Mr. Daniels is only nice to you because he feels sorry for you.”

  “C’mon, Shay? Let’s go back inside,” Jessica squeaks.

  “Don’t ‘c’mon’ me,” Shay snaps. “Whose side are you on?”

  “I’m on yours,” Jessica says. But it isn’t the sound of loyalty. It’s the sound of fear.

  I stand up, go into the classroom, and go into the corner behind Mr. Daniels’s desk.

  It’s hard for me to push the sound of Shay’s voice out of my head. But I remind myself that just because someone says it doesn’t make it true. I concentrate on the three pieces of paper. The chicken, the wolf, and the grain.

  I move the pieces of paper around on the floor. It takes me a while, but I realize that you need to take more than three trips. You need to take the chicken and then the grain, but then take the chicken back with you and leave it while you take the wolf. Then you leave the wolf with the grain and go back for the chicken.

  I leap up. “I got it!” Keisha and Albert are surprised. So am I.

  Mr. Daniels comes over and I whisper the answer in his ear. “Impressive work, Ally!”

  He says I can go around and help others for the last remaining minutes. “Ally?” Max says in a loud whisper. “What’s the answer? Come tell us how you did it.”

  By now, Shay and Jessica have come back in, and they see me helping Max. When I swing by her, Shay says in a low voice, “You’re still a loser, Ally. A total and complete loser.”

  But Jessica smiles a bit at me.

  Mr. Daniels calls us back to our seats. “Okay. That was a two-part assignment. The first was to solve the puzzle. The second was to see who would stick with it. Who would work on it and work on it until it was solved. Congratulations to the few of you that did.

  “If you are one of the many that gave up and started talking to your friends about soccer and other things, I want you to consider that no matter how smart you are, success is reached with hard work, too.”

  I can’t believe it. My experience with endless frustration and having to work on things for so long has actually paid off.

  I guess maybe “I’m having trouble” is not the same as “I can’t.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Loser for President

&nb
sp; “So, Fantasticos,” Mr. Daniels says, “I’ve told you about nominating a class president for our first ever school-wide student government. Do we have our first nomination?”

  Jessica raises her hand. “I nominate Shay.”

  Shay looks back at her and turns forward. She looks like she’s ready for her crown.

  “Okay, good. Another nomination?”

  No one.

  “C’mon. We can’t have an election with only one name.”

  I wait, glancing around. I know there will be no more names because Shay has made it known since Mr. Daniels first announced the election that anyone who runs against her will regret it. In fact, their children and their children’s children will regret it. And she can actually do something like that.

  Nope. There will be no more names.

  Albert raises his hand. Whoa, Albert. Way to be brave. I glance back at Shay, whose eyes are now little slits.

  But then Albert just asks to go to the bathroom.

  After waiting and prodding, Mr. Daniels finally says, “I’ll draw a name out of a hat or tell the council that we don’t have a representative. C’mon, folks. Step up.”

  Another wait. Then Shay raises her hand.

  “Well, Shay, this is good sportsmanship. Who will you nominate?”

  She cracks a smile. “I nominate Al-ly Nick-er-son.”

  Wait. No. She didn’t say me? I look back at her staring at me while Mr. Daniels compliments her again.

  And then it hits me like a boulder. Of course. She wants to win, so she nominated me. A surefire loser.

  “Is that okay?” Mr. Daniels asks me.

  “Can I say no?”

  “Yeah, you can say no, but I think you should run.”

  I really, really want to say no. Just not to him. “Okay. I’ll do it . . . I guess.”

  “Good,” he says. “Now, both of you will need to say a few words tomorrow, and the voting will follow.”

  “Oh, I get to write a speech!” Shay says to Jessica. Then I hear her whisper.

  I am terrified. I can’t write a speech.