Avenging the Owl

by Melissa Hart

  “Two kids found this owl here.” He put the carrier on a tree stump and straightened his bandana over his ponytail. “The owl flew into a power line and got electrocuted, then fell to the ground and got tangled up in fishing line. He should have died, but he’s strong—proof that no matter what life throws at us, we can survive.”

  Leah reached out and touched his ratty sweater sleeve. Lucas cleared his throat and met my eyes. “Thanks to us, this owl is ready to fly free.”

  “Fly!” Eric cried.

  Leah knelt and pulled the sheet off the carrier. The owl stared out from between the bars, yellow eyes locked on the trees. Lucas pulled on his leather gloves and tossed me a pair from his backpack. “Here, kid.”

  “What’re these for?”

  “You get to release him.”

  “Me?” I jumped back. “Uh …”

  Lucas pinned me with his eyes. “You.”

  Me. I pulled the gloves over my hands, heart thwacking in my ears. Lucas reached into the carrier and scooped up the owl. The bird’s feathered toes looked enormous. Each black talon had its own little sword, and his hooked beak was another. Nine weapons on one bird. Was the owl a murderer, or was he just trying to survive … like me?

  “Take him.” Lucas held out the owl. “Grab his legs in your hands and hold him tight against you, so he doesn’t hurt his wings.”

  I reached out.

  In Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader fight a lightsaber showdown—good against evil—in white and black robes. At last, Vader strikes a death blow. Then, all that’s left of his enemy is an empty brown robe, almost weightless.

  The owl felt so light in my hands. Even through the gloves, I could tell he was mostly feathers. He weighed two pounds, maybe three. His fluffy head tufts jutted inches from my face. Good and evil battled in my gut. The owl clacked his beak.

  “Throw him into the air,” Lucas told me.

  “I don’t wanna hurt him….”

  “You won’t. Trust me.”

  Leah bent close to my ear, whispered, “Just let go.”

  I took a deep breath and tossed the owl toward the sky. Instantly, his wings stretched out and he sailed across the pond into a pine tree.

  And then, all that was left of my anger was a memory, which was almost weightless.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  NO LONGER A BUTTE

  Congratulations!” Leah hugged me. Her hair smelled like vanilla. Suddenly, I felt light, like I could fly up into the trees with the owl.

  Lucas threw an arm around my shoulders, weighing me down. “Way to go, kid.”

  “Yay, Solo!” Eric hugged me too and almost knocked us all over. We stood together in the sand, watching the owl. He sat on a branch and peered out at the trees and the pond like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

  “Welcome home!” Eric looked through his magnifying glass at the bird.

  “Here.” Lucas offered his binoculars. “Now you can have owl vision.”

  Our guy wasn’t doing much—just meditating up in his tree. And then, without warning, he spread his wings and flew across an open place in the pines, vanishing into the forest. “He’ll stay there until dinnertime,” Lucas told us.

  Mice lived in that forest, and rabbits, and squirrels, and chipmunks. I heard Minerva’s voice. Life feeds on life. Get used to it.

  Leah pointed to a sandy path near the pond. “That leads to the ocean. Do we have time for a hike?”

  Lucas pointed at me. “Solo, your eyes are bigger than the owl’s. Go!”

  I took off running down the sandy trail. Eric panted behind me, weighed down by his enormous backpack. “Wait, Solo!”

  But I couldn’t wait. The ocean called to me. My feet flew, slipping and sliding over sand dunes, racing through pine trees to the edge of a low, sandy cliff.

  The beach stretched out empty and white. No people anywhere. Huge rocks stuck up from the water, and waves crashed turquoise onto the shore. I kicked off my sandals and scooted down the cliff side to the beach and ran straight into the water. The ocean foamed cold around my ankles.

  Welcome back.

  I splashed out and ducked under, swallowing a mouthful of saltwater. It stung my throat, bitter and familiar. I surfaced and swam toward seagulls bobbing beyond the breakers. Oregon’s ocean felt colder, way colder, than California’s piece of the Pacific. I floated on my back, shivering, and gazed at the forest bordering the beach, dark green against impossible blue.

  Eric stood at the shoreline. Lucas hovered farther back on the beach. I didn’t see Leah anywhere. Then, a wet head popped up beside me. She giggled through chattering teeth. “It’s freezing!” Her cheeks glowed pink. “Here comes a wave. Let’s catch it!”

  Side by side, we caught the wave and bodysurfed. “Go, Ducks!” Leah cried.

  “Ducks?” I panted.

  “The university’s mascot. You’ve gotta come with me to a football game sometime!”

  From the shore, Lucas yelled at us to come in. He stood beside Eric, both of them waving their arms like crazy.

  “He’s scared we’ll get hypothermia.” Leah smiled, her lips tinged blue. “We’d better go in.”

  “He’s being ri … ri … ridiculous!” My own teeth chattered hard.

  “Maybe not. My fingers are going numb.”

  That’s when I noticed mine were numb, too. “Race you in!”

  We swam hard toward shore. A wave glided up and I rode it in, landing almost at Lucas’s sneakers. Leah bodysurfed just behind me.

  Lucas tossed me my sandals. “You caught that wave like a pro.”

  “I learned to surf when I was four.”

  He dropped his ratty sweater over Leah’s shoulders. She left the thing on, even thanked him for it. We collapsed on the sand and watched Eric stalk a flock of black-beaked birds skittering back and forth on the shoreline. A weird, creaky sound came from beside me.

  “My stomach.” Lucas’s face flushed. “Forgot to eat breakfast … and lunch.”

  My appetite had vanished after Dad left. But now I felt it gnawing around the edges of my hollow gut.

  “I’m thirsty.” Leah looked back at the trail. “I left my water bottle in the car.”

  Eric reached for his huge backpack. “I have food!”

  “No way!”

  He pulled out a plastic bag full of Mrs. Miller’s peanut butter and banana sandwiches. A green canteen of water came next, then apples, and finally, a package of Oreos.

  “Woo-hoo!”

  We slapped each other five, and Leah hugged Eric. “You’re awesome!”

  A slow pink flush stained Eric’s cheeks. “I give you all the cookies.” He handed her the package, and she giggled. Lucas kicked back on the sand, watching them with the corners of his mouth twisted up.

  I wondered what he was thinking. With her hair all wet and saltwater drying like crystals on her legs, Leah looked like a mermaid. He must’ve noticed.

  I hoped Leah was thinking about Lucas.

  Eric was thinking about Leah—I knew it.

  And me?

  I wasn’t thinking about Mom. I wasn’t even wondering if Dad would return. I stretched out in the golden sunlight, one thought in my head: I have friends—good ones. I’m no longer a butte.

  “Why d’you and Lucas carry notebooks in your pocket?” Leah tossed a crust of bread toward the shore birds. “Is it something to do with the raptor center?”

  Lucas and I blinked at each other. He pulled his notebook out of his back pocket and opened it.

  “You did these drawings?” Leah’s eyes widened at the penciled hawks and owls.

  Lucas ducked his head. “They’re just sketches. They’re not any good.”

  “They’re fantastic! Are you an artist, too, Solo?”

  I’d forgotten about the notebook in the pocket of my shorts. I pulled it out. Waterlogged, the pages stuck to each other and shredded as I tried to turn them. “I’m a writer.” I stared down at the wad of ruined scenes.

  “We could iron
them.”

  “No point.” My words had faded and blurred, unreadable. I shoved the pages into my soaked pocket. “I’ll write more.”

  She handed me another half of a sandwich. “I’d love to read your work.”

  Lucas stood up, squinted at the sun. “We’d better head back. It’s a long way back to the city.”

  This time, we all rode in the truck cab—Lucas driving, Leah squashed next to him, me on her other side, and Eric pressed against the door. “This is extremely illegal.” Lucas caught my eye and shrugged. “But it’s better than smelling like garbage.”

  I grinned. “Next time I ride in your truck, I’ll bring my gas mask.”

  We dropped Eric off at his house, and Mrs. Miller waved to us from her garden. “Thank you,” she called. “Hope the sandwiches came in handy.”

  “They sure did, Mrs. M.!” I called back.

  I was next. “You can let me off at the mailboxes,” I told Lucas.

  He shook his head. “No way. I want to see your place, kid.” His truck rumbled up the gravel driveway and he let out a whistle. “That’s a sweet VW.”

  My eyes bugged out. There in the driveway stood The Big Grape.

  Dad.

  “Thanks, Lucas. See you Monday, Leah.”

  I leapt out of the truck and ran toward the trailer, yelling. “Dad? Hey, Dad?”

  He met me at the door. His arms went around me, and he squashed me against his chest. “I’m so, so sorry, Solo,” he said. “I had to go.” He pulled back and looked into my face. “I got a lot of things straightened out in my head. And I made a decision.”

  Over his shoulder, I saw my mother sitting at the table with her hands folded, her face inscrutable.

  Are they getting a divorce?

  Is he leaving us for good?

  “Son,” my father said, “we’re moving back to California.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PARENTS = CHAOS

  Up until my father tried to commit suicide, I had a good life. I went to school, surfed, played video games, hung out with my friends, and wrote screenplay scenes. It’s hard to see what’s missing from your life if you haven’t lived it yet. I hated Dad for being depressed, hated Mom for making us change everything.

  How could I have known the change would be good?

  I couldn’t point to the moment my new life began to mean freedom instead of prison. Maybe it was the day I hiked to the top of Spencer Butte and got a wide-angle view of the world. Maybe it was the afternoon I met Lucas or Leah, or even Eric. Maybe it happened the instant I released the great horned owl in the forest.

  All I knew for sure was that Dad’s words should have made me rush to my room and start packing for migration down south. Instead, the words lodged in my chest like an indigestible rat bone.

  “Moving?” I choked.

  Dad’s eyes filled with tears. “We robbed you of a wonderful life, son. You had everything …”

  He pressed his fingers against his eyelids. “I drove down to Los Angeles to meet with my old boss. He said I can have my job back….”

  I glared at him. “I thought you were gonna write a book.”

  He sighed. “It’s not that easy, Solo. You can fill page after page in those notebooks of yours. And it’s good stuff.” He shrugged at my surprised look. “I’ve read your scenes. You’re a born writer.”

  “So are you!” I shot back.

  “We’ve got to return to California,” Dad said. “We tried an experiment, and it failed.”

  “You didn’t give it a chance! You never even went outside!”

  Beside me, my mother inhaled one of her deep yoga breaths. She stood and exhaled loudly, put her hands on my shoulders. “Don’t you want to move back, Solo?”

  She waited a long time for my answer. Everything around me waited, too. The cicadas stopped chirping in the yard. The frogs down by the pond stopped croaking. Even the hawk on the telephone pole sat motionless. Finally, I spoke.

  “I don’t know.”

  For just a moment, I saw Rajen and Blinky and me together again, striding down the beach with our surfboards. Maybe I could even be friends with Eldon. But sooner or later, I’d head out for the deep water where the biggest waves broke, alone. Then I’d remember.

  Impossibly tall trees. The caw of crows and the hooting of owls. Lucas nailing perches together, smoothing down his crazy ponytail. Leah misting diamonds of water onto Artemis’s feathers.

  I glared at my father. Then, I let go the words I’d been holding onto ever since he’d tried to commit suicide, all those months ago.

  “I hate you.”

  I stumbled blindly down the hall and into my room.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do until I was doing it. I kicked off my wet sandals, laced up Mom’s thrift store hiking boots, and balled up a jacket. I wrapped the Darth Vader bank in a blanket, muffling the jangle of falling coins as they fell into my backpack. Then I tiptoed into the kitchen. My parents sat on the porch, talking quietly. I grabbed two apples and combat-crawled back to my room. Then I stood on my bed, popped the screen off my window, and dropped to the ground behind the trailer.

  My bike stood propped against the trailer’s side. I walked it down the path to the forest, not looking behind me. Then I climbed on. Pinecones bounced under my tires, and gray squirrels scurried past me into trees. At our pond, I nearly ran over Eric.

  “What’re you doing here?” I asked.

  He knelt with a shovel, digging in the soft black dirt. “I look for worms. What you doing?”

  “Running away.”

  The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them. But once they were out, I knew they were true. I couldn’t go back to California. My father would lose himself in his job again, and one day I’d find him dead. That would kill me. I’d head for the butte instead, live on the land like John Muir. My parents would have to return to Redondo Beach without me.

  Eric stood up. A reddish-brown night crawler dangled from his fingers. The trees cast long shadows across the forest. Crows and blue jays were packing it in for the evening, making room for owls. “I go with you?”

  I shook my head. “Bye, Eric. See you someday … maybe.”

  I pedaled through the forest behind the Millers’ house and rode toward the road. The hill loomed ahead of me. I dropped my bike into the lowest gear and stood up on the pedals. “I will … make it … to the … top!” I panted in time with my pounding heart.

  This time, I did.

  I clicked into high gear and flew downtown. I stopped in front of the market. Granola bars and soda.

  The can of Coke cooled my sweaty palms. The bald, tattooed cashier nodded at my backpack full of quarters and dimes. “Got quite a stash there.” I ducked my head, sure he could tell I was a runaway.

  “I’ll take a couple of those, too.” I pointed to the sugarcoated gummy worms in a plastic tub beside the register. The cashier wrapped them in tissue paper, and I stuffed them in my backpack.

  Back outside, I sped toward Eyrie Road. The sky glowed navy blue with a thin line of pink in the west. Ahead of me, a short, stocky cyclist rode with so many red and white lights on his bike that he looked like a two-wheeled police car. He was a strong rider and fast. I finally caught him at a red light.

  “Hi, Solo!”

  “Eric? Where are you going?”

  Eric gripped his handlebar in one hand and pulled a squirming pink night crawler out of his pocket. “I come with you. Feed the birds.”

  Until that instant, I didn’t know exactly where I’d start my ascent to the butte. The Pig Wheel led me on the path it knew best—toward the raptor center. How had Eric known?

  “Go home,” I told him. “You’re not invited.”

  Tears filled his eyes. “My father yell at my mother. I run away, too!”

  In my head, I saw Mr. Miller’s raised fist, felt his rasping breath hot against the back of my neck. I understood.

  “Okay,” I sighed, “but step on it. We gotta get out of tow
n before someone sees us.”

  Eric pulled a red flashing light off his brake cable. “Put this on.”

  I clipped it to my bike. “Thanks.”

  We pedaled up Eyrie. Three deer burst from the bushes and stepped onto the road. Eric and I slowed to a stop, and he held up his magnifying glass. The mother deer pranced across the pavement, but her two fawns paused and stared at us, black tails twitching and big ears swiveling.

  “Better get out of the road,” I said, my voice too loud in the near silence of early evening.

  The fawns bounded into the forest after their mother.

  “Watch out for her,” I muttered. “Parents equal chaos.”

  “I miss my mother.” Eric’s face glowed pale in the red light clipped to his jacket collar.

  I looked at the sun dropping low over the firs. “Too late to go back.”

  “Yeah.” He heaved a shuddering sigh and hunched over his handlebars. “I know.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  OWLS CALL OUT THE NAMES OF PEOPLE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE

  Clang! A woman I’d never seen before rolled the gate across the raptor center’s driveway and locked it around a post. “Must be another volunteer,” I whispered to Eric.

  We crouched in the trees and watched her car’s brake lights disappear down the road. Then we climbed over the gate, hauling our bikes up after us. My pig hit metal and squeaked.

  “Well?” Edgar called from her mew. But she didn’t laugh.

  Eric’s eyes widened. “Who that?”

  “Shh!” I hissed. “It’s a crow.”

  I glanced up the driveway, half expecting Minerva to appear with her hands on her hips.

  We’re closed. What’re you doing here on a Saturday night? I could hear her voice sharp in my ears.

  But the driveway stood empty.

  “We can hide our bikes here.” I rolled the Pig Wheel behind a rickety storage shed. Eric slipped on the pine-needled path and crashed his bike against mine.

  “Sorry, Solo.”