The Ostrich and Other Lost Things

by Beth Hautala

“Who can tell me something about Peter Pan, besides the fact that you think his character is supposed to be played by a boy?”

  Hands started going up, and Stephen pointed at each person.

  “He’s brave.”

  “He’s strong!”

  “He can fight with a sword!”

  “He saves his friends.”

  “He’s funny.”

  “He can fly!”

  “He never grows up!”

  Stephen nodded at each of these answers.

  “He can crow like a rooster.”

  Stephen turned to me.

  “Olivia, can you crow for me?”

  “Err-err-err-err errrrrrr!” I gave my very best rooster impression and crowed loudly. It was actually even better than my audition.

  “So, what you’re all telling me,” said Stephen, “is that Peter Pan has to be played by someone who can act brave, strong, funny, and kind, and can fight with a sword, fly, look out for others, and crow like a rooster.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Okay,” Stephen said. He walked around the inside of the circle, thinking, his hands behind his back. “Can any of you tell me about the parts you’ve been given? You—who are you in the play?” Stephen pointed to a boy who was sitting across the circle from me.

  “I’m the Neverbird,” the boy said. And he stood up and flapped his arms very convincingly. Everyone laughed. My brother laughed the longest and the hardest. He laughed until Stephen gently said his name and asked him to quiet down. Kids were staring and whispering. Jacob was making things worse already. The stage felt like it was crushing in on me. I wanted the curtain to fall.

  I looked at Mom; she was watching us.

  See? I said with my eyes. It’s only the first practice and already Jacob is ruining things!

  Shhh, she said with her eyes. It’s going to be okay. So I just sat quietly, waiting for whatever came next.

  Stephen stood in the center of the circle, his face serious. “So, Walter here is the Neverbird,” he said. “But, well, don’t you guys think that part should be played by, you know, a bird? I mean, an actual bird is the best at being a bird, right?”

  No one said a word.

  Dorothy smiled. Stephen smiled.

  “I’m kidding, of course,” he continued. “Why can’t this part be played by a bird?”

  We all looked around at one another.

  “Can anyone tell me?” Stephen asked.

  Finally, one girl raised her hand. “Because a real bird can’t do all the things that you need the Neverbird to do in this play.”

  “Bingo! Would you all agree that Dorothy and I chose Walter over there to be the Neverbird because we believe he is going to be the best Neverbird this play has ever seen, even though he’s not an actual bird?”

  Everyone laughed and said yes in chorus.

  “Good,” Stephen said. “And can you also agree that Dorothy and I chose Olivia to play the part of Peter Pan because we felt she was capable of being the best version of a brave, strong, funny, kind boy who can sword fight, fly, look out for others, and crow like a rooster?”

  The room got quiet again. But most of the cast nodded.

  “Excellent. And you know, the part of Peter Pan is traditionally played by a woman.” Stephen winked at me. Dorothy nodded. Relief washed over my whole self. They still thought I could do this. In spite of what the other kids thought. And in spite of Jacob.

  “So! Who’s ready to read some lines?” Dorothy said. She held up a huge stack of papers all stapled together, and everyone raised eager hands. “These are your scripts. And they are very important, so please don’t lose them. You will be expected to have your lines memorized in four weeks. So, you’ll need to start working on them as soon as you can.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “One by one, as I call your names, I want you to come up, take your script, and introduce yourself to the group again, this time as the character you’ll be playing—in the voice of that character. And I want you to strike a position you think that character would make. Okay? Everyone understand? Let’s start with you, Olivia.”

  I closed my eyes and buried thoughts of latent autism and missing ostriches and neverdos. I imagined Peter Pan, who never wants to grow up. That brave, strong, funny, kind boy who can sword fight, fly, look out for others, and crow like a rooster. He came alive inside my mind. I knew how he would stand and walk. How he might smile, his eyes flashing and all his teeth showing. I put him on like a costume—like my favorite sweatshirt. And then I opened my eyes, jumped to my feet, and leapt to center stage.

  Dorothy handed me my script. I spun on my heel and called out as loud as I could, “I’m Peter Pan!”

  Then I put my hands on my hips and crowed like a rooster, and this time, everyone clapped.

  19

  Watch and Notice

  FOR THE REST of the week, whenever I wasn’t doing my hours at the zoo or rehearsing for Peter Pan, I was searching for lost things.

  Mrs. Mackenelli’s glasses went missing, and I found them in her bread drawer.

  Our neighbor Mr. Anderson lost his car keys on Tuesday and then his wallet on Wednesday. I found them both.

  Mom lost an earring Wednesday night, and I found it in the driveway. I even found the tiny gold back.

  “You’re getting rather famous for your finding skills!” Dad said. “You should start charging for your services.”

  If I could find Jacob’s missing ostrich, maybe it would be worth thinking about.

  For now, Charlie and I were still focused on searching.

  After my Responsibility Hours were finished at the zoo on Thursday, we walked the nine blocks into town and went to the library.

  First we asked the librarian about a missing toy ostrich.

  “A missing what?” He furrowed his eyebrows at us over the rim of his glasses.

  “A toy ostrich,” I said again. I held up two fingers, showing him about how big it was. “My brother lost it about seven months ago, and I’m trying to find it.”

  “And you think he lost it here?”

  “Maybe?” I shrugged. “I looked here once before, months ago, but I don’t think I looked hard enough.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything like the item you’re describing,” said the librarian. “You’re welcome to check the lost and found table, though.” But we already had, and it wasn’t there.

  “Do you mind if we search around in the stacks?” Charlie asked. The librarian stared at Charlie, who obviously couldn’t see. Charlie waited patiently, sunglasses on and cane in hand.

  “We’ll be very quiet and make sure nothing gets out of order,” I promised.

  The librarian sighed. “All right, fine. But please be careful.”

  So, we started searching the stacks. Prue’s library is very small, but even tiny libraries have a lot of bookshelves. The children’s section took about two hours to search with both Charlie and me reaching between each book and behind the rows to check the empty space between the pages and the bookshelf wall.

  All we found was a bookmark, three paper clips, and someone’s notes on Mount Kilimanjaro.

  We found even less in the adult section. Just a dried-out ballpoint pen and a slip of paper with reference numbers scrawled across the top. But no ostriches.

  * * *

  • • •

  After a few hours of searching, I walked Charlie back to the zoo, still upset. Then I trudged home slowly, through the yard, up the front porch steps, and inside, letting the door slam behind me.

  “I hate the stupid library. I can never find what I’m looking for!” I was frustrated. But then, as I came into the kitchen, I saw a strange woman there, leaning over my brother at the kitchen table while Mom watched. They were working on a puzzle or something.

  I f
roze. All my frustration over my brother’s missing ostrich settled in the pit of my stomach.

  “Oh, no! I’m sorry! I—I’m so sorry—sorry!—I’m—”

  The lady looked up and smiled at me.

  Jacob looked up and smiled at me.

  Mom looked up, but she didn’t smile. Her eyes were full of questions. I was overreacting. A neverdo. Things started to feel all twisty inside me. I could tell it was showing on my face.

  “Olivia, this is Dr. Kathy Martin,” Mom said.

  I swallowed hard and tried to smile. I just needed to calm down. But all I could think about was what had happened the last time Mom had had Jacob evaluated. And I kept seeing that article on her desk.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. I cleared my throat. “I’m Olivia. Sorry I burst in like that. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  That was good. That sounded normal.

  Dr. Kathy rose in her chair and stuck out her hand. A handshake. I suddenly felt panicky. I looked away from her, at Mom, out the window, then quickly shook her hand before stuffing both of mine into my pockets.

  “I was outside and at the library, and stuff. My hands are dirty—I, uh, need to wash—” I wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want her to pay any more attention to me. I was worried she’d somehow be able to tell how close I was to being just like Jacob. Because that was her job, after all. To observe and diagnose.

  “Oh, that’s fine,” Dr. Kathy smiled.

  “Oh, that’s fine!” echoed Jacob from behind her. “Come see what I’m working on, Olivia.” Jacob pointed at the puzzle on the table. Piles of tiny puzzle pieces were arranged by color around him, and Jacob was meticulously fitting them together, one after the other, like he’d done this puzzle a hundred times before.

  “Wow! Nice work,” I said. And it really was. He was amazing at puzzles.

  “Did you know puzzles were designed by mapmakers?” Jacob asked. “They made careful copies of their maps and pasted them on wood and then cut them into pieces. It helped them to memorize areas they had already mapped, and it was a way to teach mapmaking apprentices how different areas of land fit together.”

  I blinked. “Wow, I didn’t know that,” I said. “Thanks, Jacob.”

  He smiled. “You’re welcome, Olivia.”

  “Do you like puzzles, too, Olivia?” asked Dr. Kathy.

  I shook my head. I knew it was her job to interact with the whole family, because we all interacted with Jacob, but I didn’t want to.

  “It’s okay, Olivia,” Mom said.

  “Um, no, not really. I’m not very good at them. I’m better at finding missing things.”

  “Well, even that is a kind of puzzle,” she said. “You have to gather clues and put pieces of information together.”

  I cleared my throat. It felt like she was looking inside my head. Like somehow she knew about the map, and Jacob’s missing ostrich, and my desperate need to find it.

  I had to get out of there.

  “Excuse me.” Manners are important when you are trying to be normal. “I’m going to go, um, wash my hands.” I held them up like they were crawling with germs. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Kathy.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too, Olivia. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” She smiled, but I couldn’t smile back. I didn’t want to see her again. I wanted her to go away. I wanted Jacob to be fine. Better. Normal. And I wanted to be normal. I had to fix this.

  I had to find that ostrich.

  I felt Mom’s eyes on my back as I walked calmly out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom. I washed my hands in record time and grabbed my backpack from my room.

  “I’m going to the zoo, Mom!” I called into the kitchen. “I need to tell Charlie something!”

  “Okay,” Mom called back. I left through the back door without letting it slam behind me. Very normal. But once I was sure I was out of eyesight, I bolted through the backyard and down the minimal maintenance road.

  * * *

  • • •

  I ran all the way to the zoo, through the open gate, across the parking lot, behind the ticket office building, and over to the trailer where Charlie and his mom lived. I pounded on the door until he opened it.

  “We-need-to-find-Jacob’s-ostrich!” I was out of breath, and the words came out in a long, superfast stream. “Now!”

  “Well, hello to you, too, Olivia. Didn’t I just see you a little bit ago?” He stood in the doorway, tilting his head and kind of laughing at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Hi again.” A normal greeting. Sort of. I was glad he couldn’t see me, because I was sweating, and the humidity had made my curly hair more wild than usual. There were leaves in it, too, because I’d taken a shortcut through the underbrush to get there faster. I looked crazy.

  “Can we do a little more searching? Please? It’s kind of an emergency.”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Hang on a second, I have to get my cane and let Mom know I’m leaving.” He stepped back inside and then whirled around. “Um, where, exactly, are we going?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I said. “Probably back to my house? I want to look around in the yard and stuff.”

  Charlie nodded and went back inside. When he came out just a few minutes later, he was wearing his backpack and holding his cane. Vera stepped out onto the porch and evaluated us.

  “Charlie has my phone,” she said. “If you need anything, feel free to call the house, okay?”

  I nodded and tried not to stare at her tattoos. She was in a grey T-shirt and jeans, which looked strange because I was so used to seeing her in her zoo uniform.

  “Mom. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. We’ll just be at Olivia’s house. Her mom is home. I’ll call if we need anything.” He reached out and took hold of my arm. “Is it okay if I hold on to you? Sometimes it’s faster if you can, like, lead. I can hear where you’re walking, feel my way a little easier. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah! Yes. Totally fine. Here.”

  I let him hold on to my arm, and we started walking back toward my house. It was a little strange. Not like holding hands or anything, because he needed my help. But it felt good. Like we were showing each other the way.

  “So, what’s going on?” Charlie asked as he hurried beside me. “I know finding Jacob’s ostrich is important and everything, but we already spent like three hours searching the library today.”

  We were barely through the gate back down the road toward my house, but we were already both a little out of breath because I was in such a rush. I knew Charlie was right. I probably seemed crazy. But the minute I’d seen Dr. Kathy Martin leaning over my brother, I’d known we had to keep going.

  “We have to keep looking!”

  “Did something happen? You seem really upset.”

  I felt a lump growing in the back of my throat, and I swallowed hard.

  “Mom decided Jacob needed to be reevaluated. And when I got home, a psychologist was sitting at the kitchen table with him.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “It could be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the last time he was evaluated, everything changed. The way we did everything—what we ate, how we spent our time—we had to make sure everything worked for Jacob. Now that he’s getting worse, other things will have to happen. Even bigger changes. Treatments and therapies. And if all that can happen to Jacob, then it could happen to me, too! I mean . . .” I trailed off. But it was too late. I’d said it out loud.

  “Wait, what? What are you talking about? What do you think could happen to you?”

  “Nothing. I—never mind. Come on. Let’s just go.”

  “Olivia, it’s not nothing!” Charlie planted himself in the middle of the road, and he wasn’t moving. “Why do you think you’ll need the same kind of treatment as Jacob? I thought you said you couldn’t catc
h autism. Didn’t you say it was something you’re born with?”

  “I did. And that’s true.”

  “So, then what is it?”

  I tried, but I couldn’t get any more words out. I wasn’t ready for Charlie to know about the article, and latent autism. It would change everything. And I couldn’t handle any more change right now.

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I swallowed hard.

  Charlie looked at me like he knew I was most definitely not fine, but he didn’t say anything else about it. He just slipped his hand back around my arm. Only this time, it felt more like he was leading me.

  * * *

  • • •

  We were both quiet the rest of the way. When we finally reached my backyard, Charlie spoke.

  “So, where do you want to start?”

  “Well, I’ve already searched everywhere inside the house, and I didn’t find anything useful. And I’ve searched the garage and the shed, too,” I said. “How about right here in the yard? Then we can officially check my house off the map.”

  “You don’t think you would have found it already if it was right here in the yard?”

  I looked around. “Well, there’s a lot of long grass around the edge of the property. Maybe he dropped it there and I just missed it?” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I just want to cross my house off the list and it’s the last place around here I can think to look.”

  “Okay.” Charlie nodded and started making his way around the near side of the yard, sweeping his cane in front of him as he went, tapping it against trees. Feeling out the space. I took the far side and started searching the long grass that separated our yard from state land.

  So much depended on this. So much depended on me being able to find that little toy ostrich, and there were so many places it could be.

  Found things only have one place, and they fill that space up to the top. But lost things can be anywhere. It was overwhelming.

  After just fifteen minutes, I told Charlie I needed a break. I sat down.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.