Better With Butter

by Victoria Piontek

  When the bell rings to signal the end of break, I realize something—I’m really happy.

  Then I see Principal Huxx striding toward us, her face pinched and livid. All my happy feelings fizzle.

  I’m in big, big trouble.

  Despite a gentle breeze, my skin burns like hot fire as I watch Principal Huxx approach, her body rigid with stern authority.

  Addie looks from me to Principal Huxx, and her face scrunches with confusion. “She looks mad. Is this about Butter? I thought Mr. J gave you permission?”

  I pick Butter up and hug her to my chest. “It was more implied than actual,” I whisper, my voice shaky with dread.

  Addie, Mercedes, and Theo exchange glances that say Holy smokes and What was she thinking?

  My stomach churns, and I’m furious with myself for being foolish enough to think I could get away with bending the rules. I normally never break them or take risks because I can’t bear the sinking distress and heart-pounding panic that’s currently swallowing me up like quicksand.

  Principal Huxx stops in front of us and wields her power. “You three, get to class. Marvel, follow me.”

  Addie, Theo, and Mercedes scatter with departing looks of pity.

  Principal Huxx turns on her heel and heads toward the office. I don’t move quickly enough, so she twists around. “Now, Marvel.”

  I jump up and follow her, my heart in my throat and my mind churning with all kinds of terrible fates—a huge fine I’ll have to work off by spending extra time at school, automatic failure of sixth grade, or some other terrible thing Principal Huxx conjures up. I also vaguely wonder if I could go to jail for some reason. But the worst thought of all is of losing Butter because I think it might happen. Mom told me not to get attached.

  I blink tears from my eyes and swallow down the rising nausea.

  When we reach the office, Principal Huxx motions for me to go ahead of her but doesn’t say anything. I almost wish she would. Her stony silence is way scarier than a freak-out.

  Once we’re inside, Principal Huxx says, “Enlighten me. Why did you bring a goat to school?”

  I give Principal Huxx Butter’s certificate and Mr. J’s note with a shaking hand.

  She inspects the documents while I bite my bottom lip waiting for her verdict. I silently repeat the phrase protected by federal law like a mantra, hoping it will save us.

  Principal Huxx shakes her head, exasperated. “I must say, I’m at a complete loss how to handle this one. In all my years as a principal, no one has ever brought a goat to school before. Since Mr. J wrote the note, let’s call him. Maybe he can explain it.”

  I gulp and buckle under the weight of my deception. I got Mr. J to write the note for a hypothetical support animal. Not a very real goat. “Do you have to call him? You have his note. I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother him if he’s busy.” I shift Butter. She’s getting heavy, but I’m afraid to set her down. I want to keep her as close to me as possible.

  Principal Huxx squints at me like she’s starting to understand what transpired. “I think we’d better. Don’t you?” She picks up the phone and dials.

  I want to tell her not to bother. That Mr. J doesn’t know anything about it, but I’m very confused and frightened by her manner. She’s not sounding mad, but she simmers like a volcano ready to explode.

  Two seconds later, Mr. J comes into Principal Huxx’s office. To his credit, he doesn’t flip out. He only rubs his hand across his forehead as if he’s trying to make his brain think. “Who’s this?”

  “Her name’s Butter,” I say, trying to be helpful.

  Principal Huxx shoots me a look that says a million things, none of them kind. She hands Mr. J the certificate and his letter. “According to the document, this is Marvel’s emotional support animal.”

  Mr. J stares at his note.

  “I thought you might be able to shed some light on this situation since you seem to have agreed to it.” Principal Huxx’s tone is controlled, but her crossed arms and her stony face radiate anger.

  “Give me a sec here.” Mr. J looks truly flummoxed. I’ve never seen him flustered before.

  Principal Huxx and I wait quietly for him to speak.

  Butter, tired of being squished in my bear hug, wriggles free and jumps down. She eyes the note in Mr. J’s hand and puts her front paws on his legs, trying to reach it. When she can’t, she bleats in his face.

  Mistaking her craving for paper with affection, he pets her. “She’s friendly, huh?”

  I pull her down. “Very.”

  “Why don’t the three of us head to my … ?” Mr. J doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

  Principal Huxx finally gives in to her anger. She doesn’t yell exactly, but the emphasis she puts on every word makes her mood crystal clear. “Absolutely not. No one is going anywhere until someone explains how Marvel got the impression I would allow a goat at school.”

  When she says it like that, then my plan does seem ridiculous. Worse, I think Mr. J’s in trouble too and it’s my fault.

  “I can explain,” I offer, trying to come to Mr. J’s and my own defense. “An ESA can be any animal that brings their owner comfort. They’re allowed into places pets usually aren’t, like school, and it’s okay because they’re protected by federal law.” I bend down and hold out Butter’s tag as proof. I run my finger along the lettering and read it aloud in case they can’t see it well enough. “Protected by federal law.”

  Principal Huxx stares at me like I’ve lost my marbles.

  I let go of Butter’s tag and slowly stand, afraid sudden movement might set Principal Huxx off.

  She turns to Mr. J. “I think you better clear things up for Marvel while I get her parents on the phone.”

  Mr. J nods. “Marvel, go into my office, please. I’ll join you in a second. I need a moment with Principal Huxx.”

  I go into Mr. J’s office.

  He takes more than a moment. I have about twenty minutes to agonize over what will happen when my parents arrive. Butter also has too much time on her hands and gets into everything. When Mr. J finally joins us, I’m pulling the edge of the beanbag out of her mouth.

  He falls into his chair like he’s had a very hard morning, which I suppose he has.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “I’m disappointed.”

  That stings. Everyone knows that that’s way worse than anger. Anger flares and fizzles out. Disappointment lingers. I look down at my hands, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for tricking you. I should have been up front from the start.”

  “I know you are. We can talk about it more later. Your parents are on their way, and before they get here, I’d like for you to tell me how you came by this unique support animal and why you think she would help you at school,” Mr. J says.

  I tell Mr. J about rescuing Butter, meeting Sonny the support dog, and how when I’m with Butter I feel calmer. “Goats are amazing creatures. There’s a study that looks at goats and dogs. Apparently, goats are one of the only animals besides dogs to communicate with people through eye contact. They can be wonderful company, playful, and fun.”

  Mr. J pulls a folder filled with papers out of Butter’s mouth.

  I wince. I was too busy babbling about the benefits of goats to notice Butter tearing up his office. “Sorry.”

  He waves off my apology.

  “They also make great support animals.”

  “How so?” he asks.

  I’m a little unsure about this one. I wasn’t able to find much information about goats specifically, so I wing it. “As you can see, they are friendly, funny, and trainable. You can train a goat to do anything a dog can do. Goats can heel and stay. They learn their names, come when called, and walk on a leash.”

  Butter knocks over Mr. J’s trash can and starts munching on paper.

  I right the waste bin and put the trash back into it. I wrestle a wad of paper from Butter’s teeth and put her in my lap.

  Butter wags her tail.
<
br />   “She’s precocious. I’ll give her that.” He pauses, and his face gets a little sad. “I do wish you had trusted me enough to be honest. If you had, I could have been clearer about the rules for emotional support animals and school.”

  I nod, feeling terrible.

  “I think you misunderstood their access to public places. They are protected by federal law but only for specific and narrow purposes. A comfort animal isn’t a trained service animal. So, while they’re sometimes allowed to go places other pets aren’t, they’re not always guaranteed access. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.” Mr. J is kind but firm.

  I never imagined Butter’s first day turning out like this. I thought if I presented all the paperwork, Principal Huxx and the teachers might be surprised or maybe annoyed, but they would have to let me keep Butter at school. Then I could go home and tell Mom and Dad I got permission to bring Butter with me. “I thought I knew what I was doing.”

  Someone knocks on the door, and I look up to see Dad.

  I don’t hesitate. I run to him and wrap my arms around him, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry. I know I didn’t go about things in the right way. I just wanted to find a way to make school easier. It’s gotten so hard, but I didn’t want you to know how bad I was doing. I thought if I brought Butter with me …” I stop talking because I’m sobbing too hard to continue.

  Dad kneels down to look me in the eyes. “I know how hard things can be for you. You don’t have to hide it from me. I want to help you.”

  “But I didn’t want to spoil your visit.”

  Dad holds my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. “This is life, Marvel. Not everything has to be perfect all the time and neither do you.”

  His words are such a relief that a fresh flood of tears falls from my eyes. I bury my head in his shoulder, and he rubs my back. I hang on to him, not wanting to let go.

  Butter pushes her nose between Dad and me, making us both laugh a little bit.

  Dad gives Butter a pat, then asks Mr. J, “Do you think we could talk privately?”

  “Of course.” Dad and Mr. J leave to talk while I wait with Butter. I pull her in my lap and hug her close, smushing my face into her fur, terrified I’m going to have to get rid of her after what I did.

  After a few minutes, Mr. J and Dad come back with Principal Huxx. I know it’s time to hear the consequences of my actions, and my heart thuds with dread.

  Principal Huxx starts. “I’m incredibly disappointed in you. Bringing a goat to school is a flagrant disregard—”

  Mr. J clears his throat, interrupting her.

  Principal Huxx sighs. “Very well. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Mr. J and your father have convinced me that you could benefit from a support animal and to allow your goat on a trial basis.”

  I sit up in my chair, confused by the new direction of the conversation. “What?”

  “We know you’re not the only child who suffers from anxiety. Mr. J thinks many of our students could benefit from having a comfort animal on campus, so he suggested we temporarily”—Principal Huxx peers down at me, making sure I hear the word temporarily—“allow your goat to come to school with you.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  Mr. J continues. “Some of the other school principals have already started allowing therapy dogs in their schools, and one school has allowed in a therapy pig.”

  “I heard about her,” I say excitedly.

  Dad shakes his head at me, and I realize the fragility of the situation. Principal Huxx agreed, but she’s not convinced.

  I close my mouth and let Mr. J do his thing.

  “The school board is honoring principals who try out unique and innovative ways to help promote awareness for mental health. A goat as an emotional support animal is unique and innovative, so Principal Huxx has decided to give Butter a chance.”

  Principal Huxx holds up a finger. “But I have terms. First, the goat may not disrupt the school in any way. Second, she needs to pass an obedience test in one week. Mr. J will put together a list of skills we expect her to perform. Third, Marvel still needs to abide by the other parameters we set forth in the meeting—no absences, no late arrivals, no early exits, she completes any extra-credit work assigned to her by Ms. Day, and she performs in the play or else her promotion to seventh grade is in jeopardy. Are we agreed?”

  Dad looks at me. “What do you think? This is your idea, so your decision.”

  I don’t hesitate. “It’s definitely a deal.”

  Principal Huxx holds her hand out.

  I reach for it, and we shake.

  “Your word is important. I expect you to keep it,” Principal Huxx says.

  “I will.”

  Butter bleats as if she also agrees.

  Dad and Mr. J crack up. Principal Huxx’s face doesn’t move.

  “I’ll walk these two out,” Dad says, and heads to the door.

  Butter and I scramble after him.

  I’m feeling so many emotions—disbelief, excitement, relief, love for Butter and Dad, gratitude to Mr. J and even Principal Huxx (which might be the most surprising feeling)—that I have trouble sifting through them all, so I don’t. I roll them all up into one big ball of happy and let it bounce around inside me as Dad walks me and Butter to class.

  Before I go into my classroom, he says, “Look, kiddo, I don’t approve of the way you went about things. But I’m proud of you. A lot of navy cadets could learn something from you. You were smart, resourceful, and brave.”

  “You think I was brave?” I’m stunned he would say that about me.

  He considers me for a moment. “You know, there are different kinds of bravery. Sometimes the hardest battles are in our own minds, and you fight those valiantly every day. That takes a special kind of courage.”

  I nod, disappointed, not feeling like that counts.

  He playfully nudges me. “You also did well back there. That Principal Huxx is scary.”

  I try to wrap my head around his revelation. “Principal Huxx scared you? I didn’t think anything did.”

  Dad pets Butter. “All kinds of things scare me. For instance, I have to go home and explain to your mother that I gave you permission to start bringing a goat to school. Now that’s terrifying.”

  I laugh at him and nudge him back. “Mom’s not that scary.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me and then smiles. “Maybe not. But when I am scared, I try to forge ahead anyway because a life lived in fear isn’t much of a life.”

  I look down at Butter. “Yeah. I’ve been telling her the same thing.”

  Dad smiles at me and kisses my forehead. “I hope she’s listening.”

  I hope she is too.

  I gather Butter’s leash into my hand, take a deep breath, and open the classroom door. For the first time in my life, I’m not worried about what comes next.

  I’m ready for it.

  Bayside Academy hallways are busier than Highway 101. Kids zoom up and down in groups, talking, laughing, and making plans to hang out. (Middle school is about social connections, period. Only parents and teachers think it’s about learning.) Usually, I’m stuck navigating the halls alone but not anymore. Now Butter accompanies me.

  As we make our way to last period, she prances beside me like she belongs. Even though the hallways are hectic, Butter takes it in stride. I’m not sure if her easy comfort is due to the fact that she’s a herd animal, used to running with a pack, so she thinks of the other kids as part of her flock. Or if it’s because the hallway noise hums continuously in a predictable, monotonous din. It’s loud, but there are very few sudden, unexpected bangs to startle her. Whatever the reason for her adaptability, she’s acing it.

  It’s our second full day together, and it’s exactly how I imagined it. Having Butter at school does help ease my worries. Taking care of her needs during the day keeps me out of my head and focused on the present. She’s a living, breathing mindfulness exercise.

 
; Butter and I head into language arts, which is the last period of the day because of my middle school’s wonky, ever-changing schedule, and we go to our table.

  Addie, Theo, and Mercedes are already there.

  I sit down, and Butter puts her chin on the desk, expecting Cheerios. I give her a few. She gobbles them up and then wanders to Addie, Theo, and Mercedes in turn, greeting them.

  “Did you get the list of skills Butter needs to perform from Mr. J?” Addie asks, giving Butter a vigorous scratch on her head, which causes Butter to close her eyes in bliss.

  “Yep.” I pull it from my binder and set it in the middle of the table so we can look at it.

  Addie pulls it to her and reads. “Walk calmly on a leash.” She looks up at me. “That’s easy. She already does that.”

  I smile. “I know. Most of the others don’t look too hard either, except for one.”

  Addie lists the rest of the skills. “Respond to her name, come when called, demonstrate friendliness and adaptability, respond to the command leave it.”

  “Butter does most of those skills already, but I’m worried about the command leave it. Mr. J explained that one is about letting go of something I don’t want her chewing on or doing, like butting people. Butter’s proven herself to be a quick learner, but I have less than a week to teach her that.” I start to fret about Butter failing her test. If Principal Huxx tempts her with paper, I’m not sure Butter will be able to resist. My anxiety kicks my imagination into gear, and I envision Principal Huxx cackling gleefully as Butter gobbles up reams of paper.

  Just as I start to get stressed about how little time I have to train her and how much we have to accomplish, Butter sticks her head under my hand, insisting I pet her. I focus on her and stroke her soft ears, amazed by her spot-on intuition. It’s almost like she has a sixth sense or something and knows when I need her.

  Ms. Day calls our class to order. We’re discussing the play again. My school takes the sixth-grade play very seriously. The students run the entire production: We pick which play we do, cast the show, figure out how to design the set, and run the tech (all the lighting). Ms. Day acts as an adviser only.