Caleb and Kit

by Beth Vrabel

  Mom sighed again. “Really, Caleb? Was that necessary?”

  I ignored her. When I got back, Mom was talking about the storm. “I was in the middle of a cleaning. The thunder was so loud and sudden, I jumped… along with the floss. Poor patient!”

  “How is talking about flossing and cleaning people’s mouths more appropriate than me talking about having to go to the bathroom?” I muttered, but neither Patrick nor Mom even glanced at me. I bet they had hatched a plan while I was in the bathroom. Let’s ignore Caleb. Whatever. It wasn’t going to change me. I still would do what I wanted.

  “So, Caleb,” Mom suddenly said, “what happened at camp when it started to storm? Where did you go?”

  Not looking up from my plate, I mumbled, “We went under the pavilion.”

  “But the storm lasted so long. You can’t have waited under the pavilion that whole time.”

  I pushed another forkful of mashed potato in my mouth. “We ran to the community center. No big deal.”

  “I bet you were soaked!” Mom said.

  “It wasn’t too bad,” I said. “Shelly was a pain about it. She thought someone should’ve driven us or something. But I didn’t mind.”

  “He was still soaked at the end of the day,” Patrick added.

  “Really?” Mom put down her fork. “I hope they gave you towels or something. No wonder you’re wearing a sweatshirt. I bet you were freezing!”

  Patrick rocked back on his seat and tilted his head. “Shelly wasn’t wet at all, though.”

  Mom’s eyes bored into the top of my head.

  “A couple of the guys and I played football outside when it stopped. The grass was wet.”

  “Don’t lie to me,” Mom said, but she was smiling when I chanced looking up at her. “You jumped into the pool, didn’t you?”

  I grinned back. “You know me well.”

  Mom laughed and gathered our plates. “Well, you better take a hot bath tonight to warm up.”

  I handed her my glass to stack on top of the plates.

  “Caleb!” she gasped. “What happened to your hand?”

  Quickly I covered the long scratches with my sweatshirt sleeve. “Nothing,” I said. I grasped at what to say, but this lying thing? It’s sort of a skill. And I was getting good at it. Maybe too good. “The football landed in a briar bush. They don’t landscape well behind the community center—you should put Derek on that—and I got a little cut up when I reached for it. No big deal.”

  Mom pursed her lips. “Put some antibacterial ointment on it,” she said. “The last thing you need is an infection.”

  The whole time, even though I never glanced his way, I knew Patrick was staring at me. He hadn’t stopped since he pointed out that Shelly wasn’t as soaking wet as me.

  When I got to Mermaid Rock the next day, Kit wasn’t there. The World of Faerie book was, though. A palm-size rock kept it open to the page of the blue-eyed fairy girl with the blackbird on her shoulder. A second later, Kit emerged from the woods. Part of me wanted to yell at her to be more careful with Mom’s book. But it wasn’t Mom’s book, not anymore.

  Kit added a circle of flowers to a pile of leaves at the stream’s shore. “The book says the fay love flower crowns. If they approve of you, they’ll accept this gift.”

  “Kit, the dog was on the news last night!” I said instead of responding.

  “The rescue?” Kit clapped. “That’s awesome. Now everyone knows she’s free.”

  “No,” I said, “they aren’t calling it a rescue. They’re saying we broke the law. That we were vandals and that the dog is dangerous.”

  Kit shook her head. “She’s turned back by now, I’m sure.”

  “I’m talking about real life,” I pressed on. “We could be in big trouble!”

  “I’m talking about real life, too,” she insisted. “I know I was right. She was trapped. Now she’s back to who she’s supposed to be.”

  “You don’t know that,” I groaned.

  “Have they caught her yet?” Kit snapped. “Don’t you think that’s a little weird? You’d think the police would’ve been able to track down a giant dog by now.” She leaned into me, leveling me with her storytelling face. “That’s because there isn’t a dog to track.”

  Kit climbed up onto the rock and studied the picture of the fairy with eyes like hers. Like that dog’s.

  I didn’t want to argue about the dog or talk about her mom or anything else that made her eyes cloud over. I glared up at the boiling sun, wishing it was easier to just stick to a decision. To not always wonder if you’re where you’re supposed to be and doing what you should. I do what I want. But what do you do when you don’t know what you want?

  “Stop,” Kit said. She shook my shoulder, scattering my thoughts. “Whatever you’re thinking about, just stop.” Kit slid down the rock. She lay flat on her back in the middle of the stream. It was still a bit higher than it had been thanks to the storm the night before. When she lay like that, the water trickled just past her ears, though her chin, nose, and eyes were free. She raised an arm and beckoned me down beside her.

  When I didn’t move right away, she raised herself up on her elbow. Her wet dark hair was black as the crow’s, and it dripped down her back and into the stream. “Trust me,” she said, and slapped the surface of the water beside her.

  I put my phone next to the rock on the book and made my way to her. When I stood beside her, my shadow covered her face. “This is stupid,” I said. “No one lies in the middle of a stream.”

  But the water clogged Kit’s ears and she didn’t answer, just smiled so wide the corners of her mouth dipped into the water. She reached up and tugged on my hand. I lowered into the water. It was cool but not freezing, especially since the air was so hot that day. I lay on my back, letting the water pour all around me from the top of my head, over my ears, and through the hand still clasped by Kit.

  I couldn’t hear anything but the water. Couldn’t feel anything but the pull of its current and the blanket of air over us. Couldn’t see anything but the patch of startling blue sky over my face. Couldn’t even think of anything but this one perfect moment and the girl sharing it with me.

  And I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

  Hours passed before I thought to look for the flower crown. But the shoreline was empty.

  I meant to go to camp at least one day that week, but I never did. I didn’t the week after, either.

  One Friday, Kit and I spent the day lying on our stomachs in the grass outside her house, reading The World of Faerie, the book spread out between us, while we shared my lunch.

  I was too tired for much more than that. I guessed I hadn’t slept all that well the past few nights. I kept having nightmares about wild dogs with blue eyes, police officers knocking on my door, shattering glass, and the thing that happened (the one I was never going to talk about ever) in the barn before we left.

  I actually fell asleep, my face on the edge of the book. It was one of those terrible where-am-I wake ups, complete with a thick line of drool running from my cheek to the page. Quickly I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Phew! It was only a little after one o’clock. “Kit?” I called out, and then doubled over coughing. Sleeping on my stomach did that sometimes.

  Her laughter reached my ears before I spotted her sitting under a nearby evergreen tree with her legs outstretched like two sides of a triangle. Something small and dark hopped between them. I must’ve really been out of it because when I stood, I was dizzy for a minute. For a stupid second I even thought Kit was a fairy.

  But then the world straightened up and I saw it was just Kit, and the small dark thing hopping between her outstretched legs was a crow. It must’ve been a baby or at least really young because it didn’t seem all that interested in flying. It just hopped forward and back, its mouth wide as it croaked out a cah, cah.

  The bird was covered in fluffy black feathers and had huge bluish-gray eyes. I swear, the bird’s eyes were blue
. What were the chances that Kit, the dog, and now this bird would all have the same blue eyes? “Do you see?” Kit asked as she tossed it a bit of sandwich crust left over from our lunch and it wobbled forward, its mouth outstretched like a red kite in the middle of its face as it swooped and gobbled up the bread.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered.

  Kit held out her finger, and the bird hopped onto it and then up her arm. He was about the size of my whole hand and so fluffy he looked perfectly round. Now that the bread was down his belly, his red kite mouth hung open again. “I heard this noise when you fell asleep.” She laughed as the bird croaked again because it was like he was helping her tell the story. Maybe he was. “And when I went to explore, here he was.”

  Kit lifted her arm so the bird was level with her nose. “It’s just like the book, Caleb,” she said, her voice low and her eyes round with stories. “I think his name should be Puck.”

  “Puck?” I glanced around the trees hanging over us. “Where are his parents?”

  Kit grinned. “I don’t know. He’s here by himself!”

  I squinted at a basketball-size bundle of twigs super high up in the pine tree. “I think that’s his nest. Maybe he fell out. I bet the parents will look for him.”

  A flash of black darted across the sky. “Cah, cah!” screeched a crow overhead. The little bird fluffed his wings.

  Kit shook her head. “He’s supposed to be with me.”

  “We can go into town, maybe to the library, and figure out what to do, how to get him help.” I thought of the dog, with its bright blue eyes. Was she okay now?

  Kit bent her legs and stood. “No,” she said. “He’s mine.” She smiled at me and added, “The fairies saw that I’m learning more about them. They’ve given me a gift.”

  “I don’t know, Kit,” I said as she walked toward the house. “Do you know how to take care of a baby like that? Can you take care of it?”

  “You better go, Caleb,” she said without turning. “I think my mom is coming home soon.”

  I didn’t bother to backtrack to the park. My legs were extra heavy as I trudged across the stream toward my house. I really wanted to take another nap, this time in my bed. Besides, I knew I didn’t have to watch out for the bus. Patrick had borrowed the car so he could coordinate this fund-raising thing with Dr. Edwards’ office; Mom had told me to just use the key under the mat and let myself in after camp, that Patrick wouldn’t be home until after four o’clock.

  I did look around to make sure the coast was clear before leaving the woods, though. Here’s the creepy thing. I was more worried about what was in the woods than I was of anyone catching me leaving the woods. Ever since Kit had gone inside, I had felt like someone was watching me. It was probably just my imagination.

  The crow I had spotted earlier seemed to be traveling with me across the woods, always swooping a few dozen feet above my head. And the woods around me rustled, once so suddenly and close I screamed, sure the dog was about to come back for my entire hand instead of just a scrape or two. But it was a fat chipmunk, squeaking as it burst from behind a tree, closely followed by a second.

  I tried to shake the feeling, but it was good to be inside my house. I just wished I hadn’t spotted the crow settling in a tree in my front yard, watching as I closed and locked the front door.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Here is something I’ve never told anyone: One time, when Brad and I were little, like in third grade, we told our moms we were going to ride our bikes around the block a couple times. But in reality? We rode all the way to the school and back. It was the middle of summer and we thought it’d be cool to run around the playground when it was totally empty. Only when we got there, the playground was full of toddlers and preschoolers. There must’ve been a mommy meeting or something. Plus, as soon as we arrived, we both sort of realized how angry our parents were going to be about us being so far from home. So we returned, only Brad suggested a shortcut across the field. And that meant getting to the road by going around the back of this old boarded-up church where older kids hung out.

  I didn’t know any of them and neither did Brad, but he said hi anyway as we passed, walking our bikes since my legs were feeling a little wobbly. All of the older kids ignored us. All of them except this one guy—he must’ve been about fourteen. “Hey,” he said. He smiled, but it was the type of smile that is only lips and teeth, you know? The kind someone might plaster on for a photo. He curled his hand, beckoning us to the side of the church where a lilac tree bloomed, stretching up and over the boarded-up steps.

  “Let’s go,” I muttered to Brad.

  But Brad was already rolling his bike toward the guy. What was I supposed to do? I followed him.

  “Want to see something cool?” the guy asked, and he parted some of the branches of the lilac bush. From a tree behind us, a small bird screeched and I jumped at the sudden sound. The guy rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said. There between the branches was a little nest.

  “Wow,” Brad whispered, and he leaned forward on tiptoe to see it. He glanced back at me and smiled. A real smile, with eyes, too. I crowded over his shoulder to see. In the middle of the nest was a little pinkish-blue egg. Next to it was a just-hatched bird. It was the ugliest thing I had ever seen—it looked like someone took a wad of chewed-up bubblegum and rolled it in a dust bunny. The bird’s eyes were the size of pencil erasers and sealed shut. Its beak opened and closed soundlessly and its too-big legs curled under its body. The halves of its broken shell lay beside it.

  “Wow,” I echoed. I couldn’t look at it for more than a couple seconds, but couldn’t look away for long, either. It was hideously beautiful. I know this sounds strange, but it made my knees hurt, like just looking at the helpless bird hollowed them a little.

  The older guy leaned over both of us. He scooped up the bird in his hand. The bird in the tree screeched again. He thrust the baby toward us so it was just a couple inches from our faces. I couldn’t help it—I coughed and it turned into a cry. Brad, he reached back and squeezed my wrist. “Stop,” he whispered, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or the older boy, who still had his lips pulled back from his teeth in a not-smile.

  The older boy dropped the baby bird onto the sidewalk. “Stupid babies,” he muttered with a not-laugh.

  Brad grabbed my elbow, pulling me back toward our bikes and away from the older kids. But first I scooped up the baby bird—it was light as a used tea bag in my hand—and placed it back in the nest. It was the bravest thing I’ve ever done. As we walked away, the mother bird flew to the nest, settling on top of and quieting the baby.

  I hadn’t thought about that for a long time. I guessed seeing the baby crow with Kit today made me think of it. Inside my house, I sank onto the couch and closed my eyes. As I fell asleep again, I heard that whispery plop of the baby bird hitting the sidewalk.

  “Hey, wake up.” Patrick loomed over me, holding the throw pillow he had just whapped against my shoulder.

  “What?” I groaned. He hit me again when I rolled onto my other side.

  “Get up,” he said. “Your friend’s here.”

  “What!” I jolted upright, then wobbled a little as my body adjusted to being on its feet again.

  Patrick steadied me by grabbing my shoulders. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, shrugging off his grip and heading to the door. What was Kit doing here? I gulped down panic. Did it have something to do with the dog? Were the police onto us?

  I half ran to the front door, stopping with a halt when I saw who stood there: Brad, twirling a football in his hand. “Hey,” Brad said, and threw the ball at me.

  I caught it automatically, pulling it to my side. “Hey.”

  “Wanna go outside, toss it around a little?”

  “Uh…” I looked around, as if some reason for why I couldn’t might materialize. “I told Mom I’d clean up my room.”

  “Oh, can we just—” Brad said at the same time Patrick butt in, “Mom
’s not going to check. Derek’s giving her a lift home and staying for dinner. She’s going to be busy.”

  “Fine, let’s go.” I shoved the ball into Brad’s chest as I passed him to head outside. Brad followed, but super slowly, pulling shut the screen door.

  I backed up a few yards and held out my hands for Brad to toss the football. He did, but weakly so it just sort of flung toward me and landed with a thud near my feet. “What’s up?” I asked.

  Brad shoved his hands in his pockets as I scooped up the ball, so I didn’t bother to throw it back to him. “Where’ve you been, man? I haven’t seen you around in forever.”

  I shrugged. “You must’ve missed me. I’ve been around.” I mimed throwing the ball back to him, and he held up his hands again. The ball landed with a soft thump against his palms.

  This time, he tossed it back with more force so I had to jump a foot to catch it. “I thought I’d see you at the pool—all the other camp kids are there. You’re not. Shelly says you’ve got other things going on.”

  I threw the ball again, buying time to consider my words. Who knew Shelly would have my back like that? “Yeah, just dealing with some stuff, I guess.”

  “Is it—are you…” Brad twisted the ball around in his hands. “Are you okay, Caleb? I thought maybe you were sick or something.”

  I held up my hands for him to throw the ball back. “No, I’ve been all right.”

  Brad held on to the ball, rolling it in his hands and staring down at it. “Are we all right?” he said. He looked up at me and I felt my mouth go dry. “Did I do something, make you mad or something?”

  My teeth clenched together. Did he do something? Not really. And yet, he had. I took a deep breath. You throw a shadow over me. All the time. I’m never beside you. I’m always behind you. And now you’re freaking out because you don’t have me there, always ready to make you shine just by comparison. “Look at him,” everyone thinks, “isn’t he awesome to be best buds with the sick kid when he could be friends with anyone?”