Better With Butter

by Victoria Piontek

  When Addie sees me, she waves with her usual cheer. “Ready for the scary kindergartners?”

  I twist the end of Butter’s leash in my hand. “I’m prepared for them. It’s Principal Huxx who frightens me.”

  Addie grins at my dramatic reply. “You and Butter have got this. Don’t worry!”

  Telling me not to worry never works, but her faith in us does help a little.

  We make our way down the steps into the kindergarten area. It’s a pretty section of the school, comprising a large green lawn with a big oak tree and five classrooms.

  We arrive before any of the students, but Principal Huxx is already there waiting for us. She clutches a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. For some reason, the clipboard freaks me out. I know it’s an inanimate object, but it somehow manages to be judgmental anyway.

  “Prepared for the test, Marvel?” Principal Huxx says, clicking her pen.

  Dread seizes my stomach, making me feel nauseous. “We’ve been practicing a lot,” I say, sounding as nervous as I feel.

  “They’re going to ace it.” Addie’s unfeigned enthusiasm causes a wave of gratitude for her to wash over me.

  “We’ll see.” Principal Huxx peers down at me like a raptor, and I wonder if she purposely tries to resemble a vicious predator or if her demeanor is accidental. “During the visit, I’ll be watching Butter. By the end of it, she must demonstrate friendliness and adaptability, respond to the command Mr. J gave you, and walk on a leash.”

  My rising tension at the task ahead and my need to check one item off the list makes me blurt out, “But she already walks on her leash like a pro.”

  Principal Huxx pauses for a moment. “I must admit, I do see she’s mastered that skill.”

  I wonder if the disappointment I hear in her voice is imagined or real. Before I have time to think about it, the kindergartners start to arrive, and Principal Huxx moves to the side of the lawn to observe us.

  The first kids to come down the steps are two boys with identical features. They barrel our way, swinging lunch boxes at each other like battering rams.

  Addie’s eyebrows shoot up, astonished by their unruly behavior. “I hope they’re not all like that.”

  “I think they might be,” I say, feeling panic-stricken. Directly behind the twins, an oncoming horde of little kids charges toward us at top speed. I point them out to Addie.

  She grabs my arm. “It’s like a Viking invasion.”

  The atypical alarm in her voice spurs me into action. I scoop Butter up and drag Addie with me as I duck behind the oak tree to hide us from the marauding kindergartners while we come up with a plan to keep from getting mobbed.

  I peek out from behind the tree. “None of those kids look like they have any issues with separation anxiety.”

  Addie leans around me to get a look. “Not those kids. They seem a little too comfortable at school if you ask me.”

  I poke my head around the tree again and see Principal Huxx scribbling on her clipboard. That can’t be good. Hiding behind a tree is the opposite of adaptability. I have to find a way to salvage this situation fast. We need to get out there, but I don’t want Butter to get scared and faint before she has a chance to show what she can do.

  “What’s the plan?” Addie asks without taking her eyes off the wild kids.

  I bite my bottom lip and force my brain to think. I see a nice spot on the lawn away from the chaos, and I get an idea. “Maybe if I sneak over there and sit down with Butter on my lap and the kids come over in pairs, it won’t be too much for Butter.”

  “Sounds like a plan. But how are you going to get there without them seeing Butter and going gaga over her?”

  “Do you think you could create a distraction while we get settled?”

  Addie considers this. “Probably. Our neighbor has five little kids, so I have experience distracting little terrors. I’ll cover you while you get settled.”

  “Thanks, Addie.”

  “Anything for Butter,” she says, and then bravely runs into the throng of kids, yelling, “I’m a scary monster! Catch me!”

  Every single one of the kindergartners chases after her. She runs in the opposite direction, leading the kids away. I use the distraction to carry Butter over to the patch of grass and sit down, cradling her in my lap.

  I notice Principal Huxx jot something on her clipboard. I wonder if Butter’s being adaptable enough or if the need to give her a calm environment to meet the kids is a mark against her.

  When Addie puts enough distance between her and the majority of the kids chasing her, she stops running and whispers into the ears of two little ones fast enough to stay on her heels. Then she points in our direction. As soon as they see Butter, their eyes light up and they bolt toward us.

  I motion for them to slow down and be quiet. To my complete surprise, they do. When they reach me, I pat the grass on either side of me. “Sit here and here.”

  They settle next to me and cross their legs.

  The little girl has long, dark hair tied into two pigtails and wears a multicolored dress and rainbow tights, mixing every color in the spectrum in a creative but cute way. “Can I hold your goat?”

  I answer as kindly as possible because away from the crowd of other kids, she no longer looks like an attacking Viking, but a sweet, chubby cherub. “Once Butter gets used to you. She’s a fainting goat. When she gets scared, she stiffens up and falls over, so we want to make sure she’s comfortable first.”

  The little girl nods, shaking her pigtails as if that makes complete sense to her.

  The little boy holds his small hand out toward Butter and then hesitates. With an adorable lisp, he asks, “Am I allowed to pet her?”

  I start to give my permission, but Butter beats me to it and pushes her nose under his outstretched hand. All three of us laugh.

  I look over at Principal Huxx, hoping she saw the exchange because making little kids happy has got to earn points, but her eyes are focused on the clipboard instead of us, so I’m not sure she noticed.

  Addie continues to send kids over in pairs until there’s a huge group of kindergartners sitting in a circle with me and Butter. Then Addie joins us, finding a spot across from me.

  My anxiety drives me to keep checking Principal Huxx’s responses to see if Butter is passing the test or not, but there are too many kids for me to pay attention to them and her. I force myself to stop looking in her direction and focus on the kids.

  Before I know it, I’m having such a good time telling the little kids everything I know about goats, I almost forget Principal Huxx is watching me.

  Butter wriggles free of my lap, and I let her go. She wanders from kid to kid, accepting gentle caresses and the occasional kiss good-naturedly, as if she knows her job is to charm and delight them.

  When the bell rings, all the little kids reluctantly say goodbye to Butter.

  Addie comes over and gives me a high five. “That started out rough, but ended up pretty good, huh?”

  “I think so,” I say, and finally allow myself to glance at Principal Huxx. She’s still writing on her clipboard but looks less like a raptor than she did at the start of the test. I desperately want to find out the results of her assessment, but don’t want to do anything to mess it up now because I think it went well. “Do you think we should just go or stay?”

  Addie shrugs. “Probably get going. Always leave them wanting more, as they say in show business.”

  I shake my head and laugh at her. She’s got a good point, but I don’t know if I can leave without a verdict. I’m still debating what to do when a little girl in a red dress and her mom enter the kindergarten area.

  The girl’s dark hair is snarled with tangles like she just woke up and her long lashes glint with tears.

  They pause outside a classroom door, and the mom kneels down to talk to her daughter. From their conversation and the way the girl clings to her mom’s shirt, it’s clear she doesn’t want to go into her classroom. I know how s
he feels.

  “I’m going over there,” I tell Addie.

  Addie nods. “She does look like she needs cheering up, but are you sure you want to hang around longer than you have to? I think the test went great. Maybe you shouldn’t push it.”

  Addie has a point. I look from Principal Huxx to the little girl, feeling torn. I want to be done with this whole ordeal, but I know I can’t leave without trying to make the girl feel better.

  “I have to try to help.”

  Addie nods. “I get that.”

  Butter, Addie, and I walk toward the mom and daughter. When we get close to them, Addie hangs back and I approach them with Butter. “Would it be okay if your daughter feeds my goat a treat?”

  The little girl’s mom looks at me like I’ve just thrown her a life preserver. “Ellie, would you like to feed the cute goat?”

  Ellie sniffles and nods.

  I put a Cheerio in Ellie’s hand and show her how to hold it flat with the food in the center of her palm. Ellie extends her hand out to Butter, and she sucks up the Cheerio like a vacuum cleaner. Ellie giggles, delighted, and her mom mouths thank you to me.

  I bend down and drape an arm over Butter’s neck. “My other favorite thing to do is take Butter for a walk. Would you like to try that?”

  Ellie looks at her mom for permission. Her mom nods, and Ellie says, “Yes, please.”

  I hand Ellie Butter’s leash, and she walks Butter around the lawn as Addie drops Cheerios on the ground in front of them to keep Butter moving.

  We take a couple turns around the circle and then steer them back to the classroom door. Ellie returns the leash to me but still doesn’t seem to want to go into her classroom.

  “Did you know Butter goes to school here?” I ask.

  Ellie shakes her head.

  “She does.” I point in the direction of the upper school. “Addie, Butter, and I are in sixth grade.”

  “Do you think you can be brave like Butter and go to school today?” I ask Ellie.

  Ellie pauses for a moment, then gives a noncommittal shrug. I try to keep from smiling, feeling a kinship with her. Like me, she’s not going to be easily tricked into doing something she doesn’t want to do. I totally get her.

  I offer something a little more enticing. “How about if we promise to visit you at lunchtime? Then do you think you could go to school today?”

  Ellie vigorously nods her head.

  Her mom smiles at me as if I’m an angel from heaven and quickly drapes a backpack on the little girl’s slight shoulders. Ellie turns to go inside, and I notice that her backpack is unzipped with a single piece of paper hanging out of the top.

  Butter notices the paper at the exact moment I do, and the leash goes taunt in my hand as Butter starts to lunge for it.

  Three things happen at once. Principal Huxx’s watchful eyes snap up from her clipboard to stare in our direction. Addie puts her hand over her mouth in horror. I command Butter to leave it with more authority than ever before.

  Butter pauses mid-lunge and looks at me for a single second, but it’s enough. Ellie slips into her classroom, and the tempting paper disappears with her.

  Butter bleats at me, annoyed by her lost opportunity, but I ignore her and shoot my eyes toward Addie to share a knowing look full of relief.

  Ellie’s mom, completely unaware of the narrowly averted disaster, says, “Wow. That was amazing. Wait until I tell all the other parents about this. I don’t know how to thank you girls and your goat enough.”

  I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel. My heart still races from the close call with the paper. “It’s okay. I know what it feels like to not want to go to school. Butter makes it better for me too.”

  “You two girls and Butter are amazing.” She gives Addie and me hugs.

  Principal Huxx comes over. When Ellie’s mom sees her, she reaches out to embrace her too but pulls up when she notices Principal Huxx stiffen. They end up falling into an awkward handshake-hug combo.

  Despite the weirdness, Ellie’s mom gushes her praise. “This school is amazing. Thank you for being a creative and innovative leader.”

  Principal Huxx looks taken aback at the glowing compliment. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to get out of here while I can, but I’ll tell everyone I know how wonderful you are, Principal Huxx,” Ellie’s mom says before leaving.

  Principal Huxx turns toward me, rips a piece of paper off her clipboard, and hands it to me. “Give that to Mr. J.”

  I look down at the paper and see PASSED scrawled across it in capital letters and Principal Huxx’s signature at the bottom along with a lot more writing, but I don’t care about the rest. Only the one word matters to me. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. You earned that.”

  There’s a hint of irritation in her voice that I don’t know how to interpret. I can’t tell if she’s upset that Butter passed her test or bothered by something else, but at the moment, I don’t care. Butter can keep coming to school with me, and that’s all that matters.

  Principal Huxx leaves, and Addie and I wait in excited silence until she’s out of sight. As soon as she’s gone, we jump up and down in celebration. After we’ve bounced ourselves out, we gather our things and practically skip to class, giddy with success.

  When we walk in, Ms. Day greets us. “How did it go?”

  Addie pets the top of Butter’s head. “Great! You should have seen Marvel and Butter. They were amazing with those little kids.”

  “Well done! I didn’t expect anything less,” Ms. Day says, smiling.

  At her words, my chest puffs up and feels like it’s going to burst. The sensation takes me by surprise because it’s not one I’m familiar with. For a second, I think I’m having a heart attack. Then I realize it for what it is—pride.

  Mercedes is a wonder kid. She knows all these acting terms like on your mark, stage left, stage right, blocking (where to stand when, kind of like stage choreography), ASM (assistant stage manager), and doofer (a word for any tool she doesn’t know the name for and that she uses constantly). She carries a book called On Directing tucked under her arm and reads it whenever she has a spare moment. She even halts rehearsal to reference it about a trillion times each practice.

  We’ve already had five days of play practice, and Butter loves it. She likes the way all the kids (except for Jamie) lavish her with attention, but I’m not sure she has a future as an animal actor. She’s not the most flexible thespian. She loves to work with me, just not anyone else.

  I hold Butter on her leash in the wings, and Theo stands next to me as we wait for our cue. We’re working on an emotional scene where Heidi reunites with her grandpa after time away. Since Grandpa is a goat herder, Mercedes wants Butter to be onstage during the scene.

  “To give the illusion of being in the Swiss Alps,” Mercedes says grandly.

  Right now, I walk Butter out on her leash, but our goal is to train her to follow Theo without it. Theo’s very sweet to Butter. She’ll be in good hands with him. Only, Butter doesn’t want to be in Theo’s hands. She wants to be in mine.

  “Okay, everyone on their marks. Grandpa? Heidi? Goat? Peter?” During rehearsal, Mercedes only calls people by their character names. She thinks using our real names will cause us to suddenly remember we’re kids, not the characters in the play.

  “Action.” Mercedes doesn’t yell this. She has given strict instructions that everyone is to talk in normal voice levels out of consideration for Butter’s sensitivities, and I adore her for it. She’s incredibly committed to Butter’s contribution to the play, but I wish she wasn’t so excited about it. That way, we could just forget the whole thing.

  I put my hand on Butter’s head and stroke her, letting the motion calm me. Practicing hasn’t been too bad. Mercedes has been coaching me. She tells me to forget Marvel and focus on Butter. When I’m more focused on Butter and what she’s doing than on myself, it makes everything easier. Of course, I don’t actually plan on b
eing the one up there opening night. That will be Theo, so practice is okay because there’s no real pressure.

  I have a townsperson part like I wanted, and all it requires of me is to blend into the crowd whenever Heidi and her grandpa come off their mountain for a visit.

  I hand the leash to Theo. “You walk out with her this time so she can get used to you.”

  “No problem.” Theo takes the leash and feeds Butter a Cheerio.

  Butter, Theo, and I walk onto the stage.

  Mercedes gives us an approving head nod.

  “Okay, let’s add something,” Mercedes says. “Goat? Trainer? Peter? A word.” Mercedes talks completely differently when she’s directing than when she’s just her normal self.

  Theo and I lead Butter toward the edge of the stage and crouch down.

  Mercedes whispers, “How’s that kissing trick coming?”

  “She’s almost got it.” After we passed the obedience test, I started working with Butter on an adorable trick. I’m training her to stand up on her hind legs and touch her nose to my cheek like she’s giving me a kiss. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of showing it to Mercedes, and now she’s obsessed with working it into the play.

  “Good. I’d like to add it into the end of this scene. I think it would add a little something extra if Butter jumped up and kissed Grandpa.”

  I look at Jamie. “Maybe you should clear that with him first?” Jamie is SUPER into acting (who knew?) and hates working with Butter.

  “Nope. I want to get a cold reaction. That way I’ll know what his surprised face should look like.” Mercedes is into method acting, which means she wants everything to be authentic. Unfortunately, her method often proves painful for her actors. “What’s the cue for that?”

  “I touch Butter on the tip of her nose, and when she gives a kiss, I reward her with a Cheerio.”

  “That’s perfect! Show it to Theo.” Mercedes gives Butter a scratch behind the ears. “You’re going to make this show epic. No one has ever had a live animal in a student show before.”