“To another community that already has a bear population, Sadie.”
“So you shoot bears?” I demanded. “You would shoot Patch, or Humphrey …” A sob caught in my throat.
Peter put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Sadie, no. I wouldn’t shoot one of Helen’s research bears. I just want you to understand that hunters aren’t evil. The only way your dad will make any progress around here is if people can see both sides of this issue, come to the middle a little more.”
His words reminded me of my thoughts about the light and shadows, and also made me long for the electric feeling I’d felt after breaking dishes with Vivian. Why did happiness dissolve so fast?
Peter stepped away from the door. “I don’t expect you to see hunting differently this second, Sadie. I’m just asking you to try. Okay?”
I hugged my sketchbook to my chest and nodded. “Okay.”
Chapter 16
Layering
I asked Dad to drive me to youth group Thursday night even though Ruth and I didn’t talk all day at school. First of all, I had promised to take the puppy to the star shower, and maybe he would magically fix the problem between Ruth and me. I could hope anyway. I brought my sketchbook in case I ended up not wanting to talk to anyone.
Before Dad pulled out of the parking lot, he rolled down the window and called, “Come home with a name. We can’t call him the puppy forever.”
Ruth stood by the rope ladder with Bea and Lindsay, and followed them when they rushed over.
“Whose puppy is it?” Bea asked.
“Mine,” I said. I set him down, and they all crowded around.
“This is the perfect conversation starter, Ruth,” Lindsay said. “For Cameron.”
“Oh yeah, I think he has a dog too,” Bea said.
Ruth’s cheeks were the color of tomatoes, but she was trying to smile. I could tell she didn’t want Bea or Lindsay to know anything was wrong between the two of us. Her voice was a little choked as she said, “He’s adorable, Sadie. What’s his name?”
“I need help naming him, actually.”
Just then, the puppy sighed and laid his head down on his front paws in such a serious way that we all giggled.
“It’s got to be a serious name, like something you’d name your butler. But wiggly too,” Bea said.
“Because that’s not hard.” Lindsay punched Bea in the arm. “Come on, Doug and the guys are having their marshmallow contest while they wait for the sky to get dark.”
I let the puppy walk on his leash until he lay down and refused to go farther, then scooped I him up. Bea and Lindsay went up ahead, but Ruth hung back.
“I didn’t expect you to come tonight,” she said.
“The puppy insisted on seeing the star shower.”
“I know we need to talk, Sadie. But can we wait — I mean, until we’re not here?” She looked ahead, watching Cameron laughing with his band members.
I nuzzled the puppy’s head, breathing in his warm, spicy smell. Whatever Ruth had to say to me, whatever I had to say to her, could wait. In the end, no matter what Ruth said, once we cleared the air, I did want to be her friend.
“So what about Cameron?” I nodded at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask for more details ever since Black Bear Java.”
“He and I have never even really talked,” Ruth said.
I stared at her. “How do you know you like him then?”
“Well, we all talk at the Tree House, and when we discuss things he asks real questions, and doesn’t expect me or even Doug or Ben or Penny to know the answers. I always feel I should know everything, you know, like everyone expects me to. But I don’t think it would be like that with Cameron.”
We were close to the rocks now.
“So talk to him tonight, Ruth. See if he’ll help name the puppy.”
She gave me her best elfish smile. “Maybe I will.”
We found a rock and watched the end of the marshmallow contest. The football player, Ted, made it to nine marshmallows. His friend, Leo, got up to eight. But somehow Doug stuffed eleven marshmallows in his mouth all at the same time.
They spit out the goo and used wet wipes on their faces.
“Beat ya,” Doug said.
“I’ll get you in the end,” Ted said.
They all laughed and high-fived each other.
Doug checked the sky. “Almost dark enough. And I see that tonight Sadie brought a friend. Who’s this?”
“He needs a name,” Bea said. “A serious but also wiggly name.”
“Which is impossible,” Lindsey said. “I’ve told Bea this.”
“Everything is possible,” Doug said.
A few people shouted back, “For the one who believes!”
What was this — a church inside joke?
“All right. So your job tonight, as you’re watching the mystery and wonder of the stars, is to think about puppy names. That is a God moment if ever I heard of one. The tiniest of beings next to what is almost beyond our imagining.” Doug smiled over at me. “As long as Sadie really wants our help.”
“Yes. Absolutely,” I said.
“Tonight is a quiet kind of night, so I won’t do a lot of talking. But talk with one another. Talk about your week and the stars and what you wonder. And listen too.”
“Take the puppy and talk to Cameron,” I told Ruth. “I’ll draw for a little while.”
Ruth hesitated.
“Go,” I said.
She snuggled the puppy close, and carried him over to Cameron.
I wanted to draw the patch of sky just above the tree line. The trees were a deep black, the sky lighter, and the stars and sliver of moon lighter still. I shaded in layers, working to catch all the shadows.
“You’re an artist,” Doug said, sitting next to me.
“I’m learning to be.”
We sat, me drawing the sky, him watching for shooting stars. He didn’t ask questions or push me at all. The longer we sat I felt more and more comfortable, like it really would be okay for me to talk to him.
“I picked up The Book of Common Prayer at the library,” I said.
“Yeah?” he asked. “What do you think of it?”
“I like it, I think. I never really prayed before, and I don’t know what to say.”
“The prayers in your book have been prayed for centuries, so they have history and strength. You can almost imagine the voices of all the people who have read them, speaking along with you.” He pointed at a shooting star.
I drew a little, thinking, about people praying for so many years. Had they prayed for bears not to be shot? For their parents? For life to make more sense?
“My mom is sick,” I said. “Not life and death sick. She has Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I kind of want to pray for her, but I’m afraid to.”
Doug didn’t ask why. He nodded and then waited, watching the sky.
“I’m afraid,” I finally said, “because what if she doesn’t get better? What if my prayers don’t work? You always think God is the one thing that’s bigger than anything else. Bigger than doctors and wishes and everything. And if God doesn’t fix her …”
“Then no one can,” Doug finished my thought. “You know, Sadie, you’re right. God doesn’t always say yes. Sometimes we pray and things don’t turn out the way we want. But praying isn’t like wishing. Prayer is about you, not about what you want to happen. Praying is talking to God — getting close to him. Think of talking to him like you talk to your best friend.”
“Like how I tell my best friend about things she can’t fix?”
“Yes, like that. She knows how you feel, and you know how she feels, and the space between the two of you gets smaller.”
“Does that mean God can’t fix things?”
“No. Like I said earlier, with God everything is possible. It’s just every single event on Earth affects every other single event. You know, like in the time travel movies, when one chance meeting changes all of history? God sees everythi
ng, big and small, and he cares about it all. He wants the best for us.” Doug pointed out another shooting star. “Don’t try to understand everything all at once, Sadie. Just hang out with the questions.”
Ruth came over. “Cameron came up with the perfect name.”
“Which is?” I put away my sketchbook and pencils and held the puppy tight.
“Higgins.”
“Cameron thinks I should call the puppy Higgins,” I called to the group. “Does anyone have other name suggestions?”
Names erupted from the darkness: Midnight and Ranger and Pete.
“Okay, okay!” I laughed, as the real suggestions ran out and the football players started shouting names like Rugrat and Flea.
“Should we call you Higgins?” I whispered into the puppy’s ear.
He wiggled and sighed.
I hugged him close. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Doug moved over to another group.
I turned to Ruth. “And Cameron? How was that?”
“It’s nice to finally talk to him,” Ruth said. “I was right. He’s different.”
I thought about what Doug had said, about every little event affecting every other event. The puppy nipped my finger with his sharp teeth. I rubbed the soft spot on his forehead. “You might be a miracle,” I said. Then I tried out the name, “Higgins.”
Ruth laid back on the rock next to us, and we looked up just in time to see another shooting star.
Chapter 17
Cracks
When I rounded the house on my third lap with Higgins, who had whined and begged all through dinner and now refused to do his business, Mom and Dad’s raised voices stopped me a few yards from the front steps.
My whole day had been miserable. Ruth was home sick, so I didn’t get to talk to her or go to her house after school, delaying our dreaded conversation yet again. Meanwhile, Frankie, Tess, and Nicole had teased me all day about my “traitor friend” who let me take the blame for her and now was too ashamed to show her face. Even though I tried not to listen, they stirred up my anger, anger at them, at Ruth, at the whole dumb situation.
I lifted Higgins into my arms and edged toward the door, wishing instead that I could run away.
Mom’s voice shook with frustration. “You should have told them yourself. But you didn’t, so I did.”
“I had everything under control,” Dad answered.
“Did you, Matthew? This time it was a fist. What if next time it’s a gun? These aren’t suit and tie guys from Silicon Valley.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What if they came to the house?” Mom’s voice was on the edge of breaking. “What if they came in the middle of the night?”
“Cindy, you’ll wear yourself out.”
I winced. I knew, from Dad’s exhausted voice, he hadn’t thought of how his comment would sound to Mom. I leaned against the door, feeling each of Mom’s words as she said, “You act as though I’m a glass vase that might break any minute. I’m fine. I’m tired of being on the fringes of everything.”
Her voice cracked and my insides cracked along with her. I wanted to shout and scream and kick the door. What good had praying done? She was still sick, hunters were still shooting, and everything with Dad had only gotten worse. Higgins whined and I loosened my grip on him, and then opened the door.
I looked first at Dad, who knelt beside the wingback chair. Mom sat, head leaned back, eyes closed. When I set Higgins down, he bounded over to Dad and wagged his whole body.
We were frozen statues of a family, me standing in the doorway, Dad kneeling, Mom sitting.
“Hey,” I said, breaking the awkward silence.
“Sadie …” Dad said. But right then Mom went to stand up and fell sideways. Dad grabbed her arm. “Let me help you,” he said.
“I’m fine!” she said, not too kindly. “I just need to lie down.”
She stood, still a bit unsteady, and Dad said, “I’m helping you.”
“I’m glad you’re back Sadie,” Mom said. “Sorry but I’m a bit tired. I’ll be back after a nap.”
“Sure Mom,” I said, and I bent down to pet Higgins to hide my sudden tear-filled eyes. A well of emotion bubbled within me. Dad helped her up to their bedroom, and I closed the front door and then scratched Higgins’ tummy when he bounded over to me and wriggled onto his back.
Dad came back downstairs, his footsteps heavy.
“What happened, Dad?” My words were hot, angry needles.
Dad sat back on the bottom step and dropped his head into his hands. “I didn’t mean … It’s all …” He looked up at me and sighed. “Mom emailed Meredith Taylor and told her the true story of my black eye. I shouldn’t have lied to Meredith in the first place, but I didn’t want her to know about my fight with the hunters.”
I hadn’t known Dad had lied to Meredith, but it made sense now, how Mom had been more silent each day since Dad got his black eye, more worried. “Is Mom okay?”
Dad nodded and rubbed the bruised edges of his eye. “We’ll all be okay, Sadie.”
My eyes stung. I felt all shriveled up inside and so very tired. Was this how Mom felt all the time? I picked up Higgins. “I’m going to bed.”
Dad stood to let me pass. “Sure, little bug,” he said, but even my old nickname didn’t make me smile.
I cuddled Higgins against my shoulder as I climbed the stairs and closed my bedroom door quietly behind me. When I deposited him on the floor, he immediately started chasing a dust bunny underneath the bed.
“Pips, reason five better be amazing.” I took the scrapbook over to the window seat. I was tempted to climb up to the round porch, but the only way to avoid Mom and Dad was to stay put with the door closed. “I guess we’re in for the night, Higgy.”
WHY PIPPA REYNOLDS AND SADIE DOUGLAS WILL ALWAYS BE BEST FRIENDS —
REASON 5: YOU NEVER EVER STOPPED CHEERING FOR ME. AND I’LL NEVER EVER STOP CHEERING FOR YOU.
Pippa’s hand-drawn cartoons melted the lump that had lodged in my throat, and I found myself laughing, and then crying. Pippa learning how to do a one-handed cartwheel, falling over and over. Me playing tennis, hitting the ball up and over the fence time after time. Pippa during her frog-drawing phase. Me learning to dive. All doomed projects from the start. Still, Pippa was right. I truly believed she’d land a one-handed cartwheel and draw a frog that didn’t look like a pile of goo someday. She believed I’d learn to keep the tennis ball in the court and soar gracefully off the highest diving board. She’d put a sticky note on this page too.
Nothing is impossible. It just might not be possible yet. — Sadie Douglas.
Higgins bounced into my lap and jumped up to lick my salty cheeks.
“I’m not crazy, Higgy.” I pulled him away from my face. “I promise I’m not.”
He thumped his tail on the cushion. I wiped my face.
I’d told Pippa that nothing was impossible many, many times. The first time we’d been sitting in the car and blowing bubblegum bubbles. Pippa’s just wouldn’t bubble.
After ten tries, she kicked the seat in front of her. “This is impossible!!”
Quoting a teacher, I said, “Nothing is impossible. It just might not be possible yet.”
Our moms choked back laughter in the front seat.
“What?” I hated being laughed at.
“You just sound so …” Mom said.
“Absolutely right,” Pippa’s mom finished for her.
They told the story whenever they got together. Pippa and I rolled our eyes, but when our moms couldn’t hear, we told each other nothing was impossible all the time. And Pippa did learn to blow a bubble — proof that nothing was impossible — even if she tried over four hundred times before she got it. Still, success is success.
I blew my nose, put the scrapbook on the shelf, and turned on my computer.
Chapter 18
Expression
“So what have you been drawing at home?” Vivian handed me a steaming cup of
tea.
Back home in California the weather was still hot in the end of September, but today in Michigan, icy wind bit my cheeks every time I stepped outside, and my bike ride up to Vivian’s had been the coldest yet. I was glad for the tea.
“I’m working on shading, like you asked …” I covered my sketchbook protectively, not wanting her to see the many drawings of Dad’s eye.
Vivian gave me her now-familiar sharp look. “What’s wrong, Sadie?”
I didn’t want to talk about Dad or Mom or Ruth or school, and I found myself picking a fight to avoid Vivian’s questions. “I’m tired of black and white. I’m tired of drawing porch swings and trees and clouds.”
Without thinking, I shoved my sketchbook across the table. Vivian opened it and thumbed through. She paused over the pictures of Dad’s face.
Instead of asking how Dad got his black eye, or why I had drawn it a million times, Vivian frowned over my last drawing and then closed the book.
“I see the problem,” she said.
“What?” I asked, feeling defensive.
“Faces are difficult, for a number of reasons. But let’s start with the eyes. Eyes are where a person’s personality shows up most. When I started drawing eyes, I became really frustrated. With eyes it isn’t just about drawing shapes.” Vivian put a small mirror in front of me. “What do you see in your face right now?”
I glared at my angry reflection.
“Look at the creases around your eyes. Expression is seen in the eyelids and eyebrows.”
I made several faces in the mirror. My pupils didn’t change at all, but the skin around my eyes folded and wrinkled to show surprise, concern, happiness, sadness.
“That’s why shading is so important. You can draw all the shapes you want — the details are in the shading.”
I picked up a pencil, suddenly fascinated by my own face. Surprised eyes. Questioning eyes. Suddenly my drawings had life.
Vivian clattered around in the kitchen joking with Peter while I drew. As I listened to them, I started on a set of laughing eyes. The two of them, happy together, reminded me of Mom complimenting Dad on his crazy scrambled eggs. Why couldn’t we be like that all the time?
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