Keisha and the Z-Team rode their bikes into the yard so fast they almost got into a pileup with Daddy’s Havahart traps. Wen and Aaliyah stood in the driveway with their beaded, red, white and blue double-Dutch jump ropes, watching the commotion.
“We need a crossing guard in this driveway,” Aaliyah said, “to make sure there are no accidents.”
“No, we need to save a baby bird!” Zack cried, dropping his bike on the ground. “All hands on deck.”
“What does that mean?” Zeke asked, putting his bike up against Daddy’s truck.
“It means we all have to get ready.”
“What are you talking about?” Aaliyah said. “It’s time to practice.”
“Not yet, Aaliyah.” Keisha looked around for Daddy. “Where is everybody?”
“Your mama took Razi and Paulo to the children’s museum,” Wen said. “And your dad’s going to drive us to the Mount Zion Church parking lot so we can practice double Dutch in the shade.”
Daddy came to the door, jingling the truck keys and whistling. “I want to stop at the hardware store while you girls are jumping,” he said. “Oh, boys, your mother called and asked me to send you home. You’ve got to mow the lawn.”
“Awww, we just gave the grass a haircut.” Zeke got back on his bike and turned it around.
“Can’t we wait until after we see the murder again?” Zack asked.
“See the murder again?” Aaliyah dropped her jump rope on the ground. “I never understand what is going on around here.”
“How did it go at Mrs. Sampson’s house?”
Keisha told everyone about the baby crow in the mailbox. “A murder is a group of crows, Aaliyah. It’s not a real murder.”
Zack untangled his bicycle from the traps. “You don’t have to tell her everything, Keisha. Now we can’t brag about seeing a real murder.”
“But we did see a real murder.” Zeke took off down the driveway. “I get the front yard,” he called back over his shoulder.
“Do not! I did the back last time.”
“Did not!”
The girls watched them go, the Z-team repeating “did not” all the way down the street.
Daddy scratched the side of his face. “Hmmm. Maybe we better go there first. Keisha, put together a baby bird first-aid kit, would you?”
“Can Aaliyah and Wen come with us to see the baby crow?” Keisha asked.
“Aaliyah will have to call Moms.”
Aaliyah was already coiling up the rope. She pulled out her cell phone. “Just don’t make me go near crows. I like crows to stay where they live—in the trees—and me to stay on the sidewalk. If Moms knew I was messin’ with crows, she wouldn’t let me play with Keisha anymore.”
Wen grabbed Keisha’s hand and they had an eye giggle together. That’s where you laugh about something, but you don’t let the laugh spread to your whole face. Aaliyah spent her summers with her grandma—who everybody called Moms—while her parents worked. Unlike Wen’s parents, Moms needed to be called whenever the plans changed. Aaliyah was always telling the girls that her Moms would never let her do this or that, but Keisha and Wen thought Moms was nice. She braided Keisha’s hair and made the best “sweet tea” north of Montgomery, Alabama. That’s where her people were from.
Grandma showed up on the front steps dragging the beach umbrella. “I heard, I heard,” she said. “I call the front seat.”
“But we’re not going to be in the sun.”
“Oh, great balls of Fiorenza, I’ve got my reasons.”
The girls knew it was useless to argue with Grandma, so they put their ropes and her beach umbrella in the back of the truck.
“Okay, a baby bird kit …” Keisha started to count off on her fingers. “One, there’s a cardboard shoe box and a bag of shredded paper by the recycling pile in the garage. Aaliyah can find that. Hmmm. Two, Wen, a bottle of filtered water and a syringe from the shed in the back where we keep the animal supplies.”
Wen and Aaliyah had done this before. They knew where everything was. Keisha headed to the office.
“Don’t forget the eggshells,” Grandma called from the truck. “Baby crows need their calcium.”
“Yup.” Keisha ran to the office desk and pulled out the bird file, flipping through it until she found the section on crows. Baby birds need very different food. They aren’t like puppies, for instance. Puppies all eat pretty much the same thing.
Mama said puppies were always on Keisha’s mind. She said Keisha was a puppy magnet. If there was a picture of a puppy in the newspaper or a commercial on TV with a puppy or even a puppy hanging out the window of the car next to them, letting its adorable little tongue taste the breeze, Keisha would see it and call it out for everyone else to see.
But as she scanned the fact sheet about baby crows, Keisha knew there was another reason to be thinking about puppies, and that was because one of the things baby crows like to eat was mashed-up puppy food.
She ran down to the basement and took a handful of puppy chow out of the bin by the freezer. She also grabbed a little plastic bag of frozen crickets. Back upstairs, she got a hard-boiled egg from the fridge. She put two crickets, a quarter cup of water and the puppy chow in the microwave for ninety seconds. Then she sliced the whole egg in half, scooped out the yolk and crackled up the shell. She dumped everything in the animals’ food processor and whirled it around. Yum. Crow food! She dumped it all into a plastic tub and stuck on the lid.
Daddy was warming up the truck. Grandma was in the front, and Wen and Aaliyah were in the back in ABC order. Aaliyah always called ABC order so she could sit by a window.
She handed the shoe box full of shredded paper to Keisha, who used her fist to make a well in the center, kind of like a nest.
“It doesn’t seem very soft,” Wen said. “Cotton balls would be nicer, don’t you think?”
“Don’t you remember from our last Wild 4-Ever meeting?” Aaliyah said. “Big Bob said you can’t use anything that gets caught in their feet. Cotton balls and crow talons are not a good mix.”
“That’s good recall, Aaliyah,” Daddy said. “And it’s true, too.”
Aaliyah patted her braids. She liked it when Daddy said nice things about her memory. “They make messy nests, too. Remember the—”
“I need your eyes, ladies,” Daddy interrupted.
“Look for the big brick posts,” Keisha said. “That’s where you turn in.”
Aaliyah grabbed Keisha’s knee. “Wen wants to do freestyle, but I think we should do double unders. What do you think, Keisha?”
“Explain them again,” Daddy said. He could never keep it straight.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Grandma sighed. “It’s not that complicated.”
When Keisha was little, Grandma was a jump rope judge. But now that Keisha was competing, Grandma couldn’t concentrate on judging anyone else, so she became the oldest Langston Hughes Steppers cheerleader. She even had a megaphone.
“There are four forms, and all have equal weight in judging,” Grandma told Daddy. “One-minute speed jumping, three-minute speed jumping, double unders and freestyle.”
“‘Double unders’ means the rope goes underneath your feet twice, right?” Daddy asked.
“Yup.”
“Mr. Rose said that with Aaliyah coming up this year, he’s thinking about entering the Langston Hughes Steppers in the triple-under competition.” Wen patted Aaliyah’s leg. Aaliyah was the only one in the school who could do a whole minute of triple unders.
“Oops. Sorry, Daddy. That’s where you turn.… See that big brick post?”
“Hold on!” Daddy turned the wheel sharp, and the jar of baby crow food bounced from Keisha’s lap to Wen’s. Wen held it up. “Looks like miso paste,” she said.
“Do you eat miso paste?” Keisha asked.
“We make soup with it,” Wen said.
Whatever miso paste was, Keisha was in no hurry to try it.
Daddy parked in the driveway.
“Hey, I know this house,” Aaliyah said. “She’s at the community center sometimes. Moms brought her some soup. We could practice in this driveway.” Aaliyah hopped out of the truck and ran down the driveway.
“Aaliyah, no!” Keisha was too late. Aaliyah ran right near the mailbox. The crows in the trees hub-bub-bubbed, as Razi would say, cawing loudly to each other. Two crows dove down toward Aaliyah.
Aaliyah covered her head and ducked. “Birds, don’t mess with my braids!” She ran bent over back to the truck.
“You silly girl. That’s what the umbrella’s for!” Grandma shouted out the window.
“For cover,” Daddy said. “Mom, what a splendid idea.”
“Well, if we’d had a CFC, I would have told you.” Grandma liked it best when she got to go over plans beforehand at a Carter Family Conference.
“Is that Mrs. Sampson?” Wen asked, pointing to the lady in the window.
Keisha nodded. Mrs. Sampson was in her same spot by the second-floor window. How much time does she spend there? Keisha wondered.
Daddy got out of the truck and went to the front door. Keisha followed him.
“Unplug me, Wen,” Grandma said. Wen jumped out of the truck.
“They got their little crow toenails in my swirl!” Aaliyah said, patting the top of her head. “Moms is gonna die.”
“It looks fine,” Wen said, helping Grandma with the seat belt. “They didn’t get that close.”
“I felt their hot crow breath. It was like sour cherries.”
“Where’s your crown, drama queen?” Grandma said, laughing as she scooched herself over to the open door, grabbed Wen’s hand and stepped out of the truck.
Daddy knocked on the door and called out: “Carters’ Urban Rescue! Here about a baby crow.”
Mrs. Sampson opened the door. “I’m old, but I’m not deaf.”
Grandma came up the walk. “It’s me,” she said. “I’m the deaf one. He can’t adjust. Alice Carter.” She took Mrs. Sampson’s wrinkled hand in her own.
Daddy pulled out the family card that read, WHATEVER THE DILEMMA, IF IT’S GOT FUR OR FEATHERS, THE CARTERS ARE THE ONES TO CALL! 555-7803.
“I understand you have a baby crow in the mailbox,” Daddy said.
Mrs. Sampson nodded. “There was a cat. I don’t move that fast. The mailbox was the first thing I came to.”
“This baby needs help, Mrs. Sampson. If he stays in your mailbox much longer, he’ll likely starve. We feed our baby crows every twenty minutes.”
“Oh dear. I put some seeds in the box, but now I can’t get near it.”
“Crow-diving is hard for the balance,” Grandma agreed.
“But we do have a rescue plan.” Daddy glanced back at the truck, where Aaliyah was shaking her head no. “I have three strong girls here. You’ve met my daughter, Keisha. And this is our friend Wen.
“They will transport a beach umbrella to the mailbox and I will transfer the baby to this temporary nest.” He held out the shoe box filled with shredded paper.
“Then we can either drive him back to our place, or …” Daddy craned his long neck to see into Mrs. Sampson’s house. “We could examine him right here and begin treatment immediately.”
Mrs. Sampson turned her head to follow Daddy’s gaze. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Just a few minutes at your kitchen table will do the trick.”
“I suppose … Better use the dining room table. There’s more light in there.”
“Excellent.” Daddy seized the moment. “Keisha, Wen, get the umbrella. Mom, why don’t you stay here on the porch with Mrs. Sampson? There might be jostling and I notice you didn’t bring your cane.”
“I can walk just fine without it.”
“Maybe so, but you promised to have it with you on all rescue operations.”
“But it’s so OL,” Grandma complained. “OL” meant “Old Lady.” Grandma didn’t like anything that made her seem old.
“Not the pink one,” Wen said. Wen loved pink.
There are beach umbrellas and there are beach umbrellas. Some make only enough shade to cover your towel for an hour before you have to move it to keep off the sun. But others, like Grandma Alice’s, are big enough to shade a family of six at Millennium Park for most of the day. Daddy said that Razi should never hold on to that umbrella in a breeze or it would lift him right up into the clouds.
Keisha jumped into the back of the truck. Putting her hands around the big folds of fabric, she hoisted the umbrella over the lip of the truck bed. Wen took it by the handle and stood it up. Together, the girls unfastened the umbrella and cranked it open.
“Whoa!” Keisha grabbed it as high up as she could reach; Wen held on to the middle by the crank. But still, the umbrella teetered.
Daddy rushed over. “Okay, ladies, ready for Operation Baby Crow Rescue?”
“Ready,” the girls said together.
“On the count of three, I’ll grab up here and we’ll all walk together.” Daddy only had one hand free because he had to hold the box with the nest in his other hand.
Already the big crows were bouncing on the branches above and cawing like crazy, even though the rescuers weren’t close to the mailbox yet.
“This is worse than the Langston Hughes auditorium during a free-throw shoot in overtime.” Aaliyah had rolled down the window and stuck her head out.
“Once we get close in, they’re going to dive-bomb us, ladies, so be prepared.”
“What does that mean?” Wen asked. She was ducking already.
“Like what happened a minute ago,” Keisha said, “only they’ll hit the umbrella and not the top of your head. Just hold tight.”
They set off. At first, the bottom of the umbrella got going faster than the top, and that made it tip to the left. Then the girls pulled it in the other direction and it went too far to the right.
“Maybe if we do a chant, we can find our rhythm,” Keisha shouted over the sound of unhappy crows.
“Good idea.” Wen began: “I like coffee, I like tea. I want Keisha to jump with me.”
“I like coffee, I like tea. I want Wen to jump with me,” Aaliyah shouted from the truck.
It worked! They were moving.
Just when Daddy was saying, “Almost there, girls …”
Boom! Poom!
It felt like Marcus, the star basketball player at their school, had landed a double pump right on top of the umbrella.
“Watch out!” Aaliyah screamed.
“Whoa!” Wen stumbled.
“Hold on, girls,” Daddy said, leaning down toward the mailbox. “We’ve got an incoming crow mama and daddy!”