The Ostrich and Other Lost Things

by Beth Hautala

  I couldn’t look at her.

  “Olivia, I don’t think you’re autistic. I never did.”

  The ground under my feet began to sway.

  “But . . . then why did you have this article on your desk?”

  Mom just shook her head. “I wasn’t reading it because of you and Jacob, specifically. There are new findings and there’s new research being done about autism all the time. It’s my job as your mom to read as much as I can, and to try to learn as much as possible so I can help your brother, and you, and me . . .” She paused. “Olivia, did you know Uncle Dan is autistic, too?”

  I frowned. My uncle Dan was always a little different, but he was super nice. He played the guitar better than anyone else I knew, and whenever he came to visit, he brought it along and played for us. But I never thought . . .

  “So—so you weren’t worried about me?”

  “Yes and no. I wasn’t worried about you because I thought you were autistic, but because I was interested in how autism affects genetics. And I wanted to know how latent autism could possibly affect me.” Her face flushed, like she’d told me a secret. Her secret fear—the same as mine. I’d just never known. My heart was racing.

  “But why would you be worried about yourself? You’re not autistic!”

  Mom smiled. “Well, why would you be worried about yourself, Olivia? You’re not autistic, either.”

  “But—” I paused and stared at her for a minute.

  “And Olivia,” she continued, “even if you were autistic, even if you are, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you, or the way Dad feels about you, or the way Jacob feels about you. You will always be who you are, no matter what. The world is full of many different kinds of people. That’s what makes life beautiful and interesting.”

  A lump was forming in my throat again. I didn’t know what to say. Before I could even try, Mom took the article from my hands and held it up. And then, right there on the minimal maintenance road, she ripped it down the middle. She handed me half, and together we each ripped up our piece into smaller pieces, over and over until the wind took them away.

  Big things made smaller.

  For all of us.

  36

  A Plan

  DESPITE EVERYTHING, ONE thing didn’t change, and that was Ethel. She found her way to my backyard a few days after Jacob came back home, and then again the week after, until finally I had to do something.

  Charlie and I still hadn’t told anyone else about Ethel escaping to my backyard, and now that my Responsibility Hours were over, and the renovations at the zoo in Tulsa were almost finished, and our little portion of the zoo would be leaving in a week, it seemed a little late to do so. Especially because nothing ever happened once she got out. But I wanted to solve the mystery. Charlie did, too.

  “So, I think I have a plan,” he said. We were standing in front of Ethel’s enclosure. Even though I didn’t have to be at the zoo, I wanted to be.

  “You do?” I handed Charlie a Starburst, and he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

  “Yep. But I’m going to need your help.”

  “Well, I figured that much.”

  He laughed.

  “So . . . what is it?” I asked.

  “It involves sneaking into the zoo.” He paused. “In the middle of the night.”

  I stared at him. It was risky enough to return Ethel to the zoo after hours. But sneaking in without her?

  “You do know that’s what got me into trouble in the first place, right?”

  Charlie nodded and grinned. “But it’s kind of fitting, right? Like, full circle.”

  “Full circle?”

  “Yeah. You started this summer by trespassing on zoo property. It only seems right that you should finish the summer the same way.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “No! I swear. And it will be different this time because I’ll be there, too, and I’m the zookeeper’s son. I can’t get in trouble. Plus, it’s not technically trespassing if I let you in.”

  I thought about that for a second. “What’s the actual plan, though?” I unwrapped another Starburst. A yellow one.

  “You’ve got to get here before Ethel ends up in your backyard,” Charlie said.

  “You mean, so we can see who’s letting her out?”

  “Exactly.”

  Goose bumps ran up and down my arms.

  “But what if we get caught?”

  “By who? My mom?”

  “I don’t know. By whoever’s letting Ethel out of her cage. What if that person is, like, a criminal or dangerous or something?”

  “We won’t get caught. And we won’t actually do anything. We’re just going to hide and wait. And once we know who’s been letting Ethel out of her cage, we can report them.”

  It seemed like a great idea, except that there was no pattern to Ethel’s trips to my backyard. Sometimes it was once a week, sometimes more often. The only thing that never seemed to change was the time. Aside from that first night, I always woke up a few minutes after midnight and there she was. So, Charlie and I had to be at the zoo, hidden somewhere near Ethel’s enclosure before midnight, every night, until we caught whoever was letting her out.

  I just hoped we could figure it out before the zoo left town.

  37

  The Ostrich Bandit

  THAT NIGHT, I set my alarm clock for 11:30 p.m.

  My backpack was under my bed, packed full of snacks, my black hoodie, a flashlight, ostrich food from the zoo—just in case I needed to lure Ethel back into her cage or something—and a package of Starburst. For luck.

  When my alarm went off, I crept out of bed, pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt, and grabbed my backpack. Then I whispered to Mom and Dad to tell them where I was going, and slipped out my open window.

  It was one thing to walk down the minimal maintenance road with an ostrich in the middle of the night. I didn’t have the time to be nervous or afraid of little night critters in the grass or owls flying above me. But now, alone, I was freaked out by any rustling in the grass or whisper of wings overhead. I hurried as fast as I could.

  * * *

  • • •

  By the time I got to the gate, I was out of breath. The plan was for Charlie to let me in, so I was super relieved to see him slip out of the shadows when I got there.

  “Welcome to the Prue Zoo,” Charlie whispered. He unlocked the gate and let me inside. “Please don’t feed the animals while you’re here.”

  I laughed nervously. We walked quietly to where Ethel waited in her enclosure. Closer and closer, with careful steps. As we settled down behind some hay bales, ready to wait, she ruffled her feathers and opened her eyes. Now she was staring at us like we were crazy. Maybe we were. But it was exciting and scary and adventurous.

  I was glad Charlie was there with me. We had no guarantee that tonight would be the night the Ostrich Bandit would show up, but we had to start somewhere. So, with the rasping chirp of crickets in the warm darkness all around us, the muffled noises of a giant bird reminding us of our mission, and Starburst to keep us awake, Charlie and I sat in the dark behind a couple bales of hay next to Ethel’s enclosure. And we waited.

  * * *

  • • •

  Every huff and ruffle of feathers made us freeze. The occasional screech of a monkey or the stomping hoof of a donkey made a cold sweat break out on the back of my neck. But soon those noises became familiar, and Charlie and I talked in almost silent whispers. He told me about his school, about classes and teachers and about reading in braille. I told him about school in Prue and how I was a little nervous about going into seventh grade and making friends. And about Jacob—whether he’d be able to make friends and do okay in class, even with Ryan’s help.

  “Charlie?” I whispered.

  “
Yeah?”

  “Thanks for helping me. And for being my friend and stuff.”

  He laughed and squeezed my hand. And everything smelled like pink Starburst.

  * * *

  • • •

  The Ostrich Bandit didn’t come that night. We only had six days left to figure out who was letting Ethel out. So, Charlie and I kept watch over her enclosure, night after night, waiting for a sign, whispering as quietly as possible, jumping at unfamiliar sounds, and sometimes holding hands. When the sky started turning grey with the approaching sunrise, we would get up and tiptoe through the crunchy gravel. Charlie would let me back through the gate before locking it behind me. And then we would both sneak back to our own houses in time to change clothes and rub our eyes before any of the grown-ups were awake. It was tiring, and after the third night, I was ready to give up. I could barely stay awake through breakfast, and my parents noticed.

  But on the fourth night, everything changed. Charlie nudged me awake in the darkness outside Ethel’s enclosure.

  “Someone’s coming!” His voice was urgent.

  I froze in the darkness. My heart leapt into my throat.

  This was it.

  Charlie and I both rolled over onto our stomachs, and I peered into the darkness. This part was my job. I was the only one who’d be able to identify the Ostrich Bandit, and I needed a good look.

  Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.

  Someone was walking toward Ethel’s cage. My breath came faster and faster. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that Charlie could probably hear it.

  “Can you see anything?” he whispered.

  “Not yet.”

  The footsteps came closer and closer, and Ethel perked up in her cage, ruffled her feathers, and bobbed her head. She knew what happened next. And so did I. Someone was about to let her out.

  A dark figure rounded the corner and walked only a couple feet in front of where Charlie and I were hidden behind some hay bales.

  I couldn’t see who it was at first. And then, little pieces of things I’d wondered about over the past couple weeks—things that had been waiting at the corners of my mind—began to make sense.

  Him standing in the living room in the middle of the night when I found the latent autism article.

  The Cap’n Crunch in the pocket of his hoodie.

  As I stayed there with Charlie, I watched as my brother—my brother, Jacob—pulled something from his pocket.

  Keys.

  The ones Phil had lost weeks ago. Somehow, my brother had them. And I continued to watch as he unlocked Ethel’s enclosure, swung the door open, and ushered her out into the courtyard.

  38

  All Along

  “JACOB!” I SAID his name louder than I meant to. But I was tired and upset and couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  Jacob yelped and spun around, and Ethel did this funny little hop straight into the air, then bolted to the other side of the courtyard. Thank heavens the main gate was closed, or she would have been halfway across Oklahoma.

  If you’ve never seen an ostrich run, it’s really the most astonishing thing. Their necks stay mostly upright—unlike a horse or another four-legged creature that stretches into their run. Ostriches are very dignified about it. They take giant fluid stretches that eat up great swaths of space beneath them. Their wings arch out from their bodies a little bit, and they flutter them at their sides. Not like they’re flapping or trying to fly, more like testing the air—testing the space around their bodies—so they can run more freely.

  Ethel ran, testing the air with her wings, all around the courtyard. My brother started wailing. Charlie stood pressed against the wall of the building beside Ethel’s enclosure, trying to stay clear of a bolting ostrich he couldn’t see. I called and called for Jacob to get out of the way. And then Vera was there in her pajamas, with a flashlight that was truly blinding when it hit your eyes.

  It wasn’t exactly how I had pictured solving the mystery of the escaping ostrich. Especially when dust started flying everywhere and gravel sprayed up from under Ethel’s feet. The chaos of it all frightened more than just Jacob, and Charlie, and me—the other animals went nuts, too.

  The monkeys started screeching and the donkeys started braying. I couldn’t do anything except stand there helplessly while Vera took charge.

  “Olivia, grab your brother and head to our trailer!”

  Then she took Charlie by the arm, and I ran toward Jacob. We made our way across the parking lot, up the stairs, and into the trailer where Vera and Charlie lived. And then we all sat, breathless, while the sun came up and Ethel ran back and forth from one end of the courtyard to the other.

  “What. On earth. Were you doing?!” Vera wasn’t quite speechless, but almost. And mad. I bet she’d never imagined this small portion of the Tulsa Zoo in the tiny town of Prue, Oklahoma, was going to be so much work.

  “I can explain—” Charlie began.

  “It’s my fault—” I interrupted.

  Jacob just wailed.

  Vera held up her hands for silence, and even Jacob listened. The tattoos on her arms caught his attention, and he actually stopped crying.

  “Why is the ostrich out of her cage?” Vera was trying very hard to be calm. It was kind of impressive. “Olivia, have you been letting her out this entire time?” She looked straight at me, and I felt my mouth drop open.

  “Of course not!” Charlie answered for me. “She’s been the one bringing Ethel back home!”

  “What do you mean, bringing her home?” Vera turned on Charlie, who suddenly clapped his hands over his mouth. No one had said anything about Ethel getting past the main gate. Vera didn’t know that part. “What does he mean, bringing her home, Olivia?” Vera repeated.

  “Um . . . Jacob has been letting her out. And . . .” I cleared my throat, trying to explain this in a way that wouldn’t require me to give away all the details. But there was really no way to tell a zookeeper that her ostrich had been escaping all summer without just saying her ostrich had been escaping all summer. So, Charlie and I told her everything.

  “But we didn’t know Jacob was the one letting her out until tonight!”

  Vera’s face was very white and her eyes were wide. Even Charlie looked scared of her.

  “This has been going on all summer?!” Her voice sounded tight and even deeper than usual.

  I nodded. A very tiny nod.

  “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Phil and I have been trying to figure out how Ethel was getting out of her cage for the past several weeks! He told me he’d lost a set of keys, but we never made the connection. Did Jacob have them this whole time?”

  I shrugged.

  “Olivia, why wouldn’t you tell me?!”

  Her voice wasn’t small anymore, and I sank into the couch cushions, wishing I could disappear.

  “At first I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it wasn’t me who’d let her out. And then when it kept happening, I was afraid you’d be mad at me for not saying anything sooner.”

  “Yes. Well, you were correct.” Vera covered her face with her hands and scrubbed them back through her hair. “You should have told me the moment you discovered an ostrich in your backyard! And Charlie! You knew and you never said anything, either?”

  She looked from me to Charlie and back again.

  “Do you both realize I could lose my job over this?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Charlie and I were both quiet, and there were tears rising behind my eyes. I blinked multiple times and clamped my lips together to keep from crying.

  “And you!” Vera turned to Jacob, who refused to look at her and instead stared off toward the wall over her shoulder. He was rocking and twisting the sleeves on his hoodie.

  Vera knelt down in front of him. “What were you thinking, Jacob?” Her voice was softe
r because she knew about my brother, but I don’t think she fully understood until that moment. “Why did you let Ethel out of her cage? Why would you do that? Do you know how dangerous that was? Ethel is pretty tame, but even tame animals can hurt you!”

  She pleaded with him for an explanation. Wanting to know what we all were desperate to understand.

  My brother stayed silent, rocking and twisting his sleeves, his face shifting between frustration and confusion and pleading, and I really didn’t think he was going to say anything. But then he did.

  “I did it for Olivia,” he said. But he didn’t look at me. He just rocked. “She is Olivia’s ostrich. And mine.”

  “Jacob . . . Ethel isn’t my ostrich . . . or yours.” I didn’t understand. But I wanted to. I really did. So, I took a deep breath. “Can you say it a different way?” My voice caught in my throat. That was one of the phrases Dr. Kathy had told us to try when we didn’t understand what Jacob was trying to explain.

  Jacob rocked and rocked.

  “You—you were looking for my ostrich,” he said. He shook his head and pressed his fists into his hair, frustrated with himself, and then he started again. His words were halted and he frowned a lot, trying to make them come out right. “You find lost things. You were looking and looking, but my ostrich was not lost.” He looked at me and then looked away again. “I am not lost, either . . .” He thumped his chest with the palm of his hand. Three times.

  My eyes started to water.

  “It’s okay, Olivia,” my brother said. And he reached out and patted my shoulder. “Don’t be sad, Olivia. I am okay.”

  I covered my face with my hands and cried because I knew he was right.

  I finally understood.

  All this time, Jacob knew I was looking for his ostrich—that toy he threw away—because I thought it would fix something that wasn’t actually broken, find something that wasn’t ever lost. All summer he had brought Ethel home for me. He’d been trying to tell me that everything was okay all along. I was the one who hadn’t understood what he was saying. I thought I had been the one helping Jacob when really, my brother had been the one helping me.