chapter 32

In Which Burt Shrieks a Lot. You’d Better Cover Your Ears.

A very messy head of hair was trembling as the body sobbed with loud sobs.

Jackson stepped closer, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Burt? Are you okay?”

The messy head of hair whipped around, and a very scowly face glared at Jackson. Burt pointed at the table and chairs. “Look at this!” she shrieked.

Jackson looked around. “What? What happened?”

“Someone sat here!” she hissed. Jackson coughed uncomfortably. “Um, well, I was going to sit down and then Muffy came and …”

“You?” Burt stood up, her hands in fists at her side. “You sat in that … chair?” Her voice went up a few decibels.

“Well, almost. I was clean and pressed, and I made sure not to touch anything else, but Muffy started chasing me so I bumped the table …”

“You bumped into the table?” she screeched.

“It was an accident! See, Muffy was growling …”

“You? You … did … this?” she spluttered, pointing at a glass lying broken beside a golden plate.

“Oh, I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry, Burt. It really was an accident. Look, I’d be happy to … let me clean it up for you.” Jackson reached for the shards of broken glass.

“Don’t touch anything!” Burt yelled. Her little hands shoved him in the chest with surprising force.

“Hey now! You don’t have to shove me! I said I was sorry!”

Burt whirled on him, her face menacing with fury.

“You have ruined everything!” She took a step toward him. “I told you and told you! You were not supposed to touch anything!” Her face began to turn very red.

“Burt! We can clean …”

“NO!” she screamed.

Silence.

Not a word, not a sound.

Jackson watched Burt’s face change from red to pink. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes filled with tears.

“What do I do now?” she whispered. She looked back at the table and the broken glass. “He’ll never forgive me … and … and I’ve worked so hard!” She gulped back a sob.

Jackson didn’t say anything.

“Do you have any idea? Any idea … how exhausting it is?” She turned and sat down heavily on a step. Her head hung between her knees, big drops of tears splashing the ground. Jackson sat down beside her.

“I worked so hard and … I figured if … I wanted so badly …” Burt looked up at Jackson. “What do I do now?”

Jackson held out his hand. She stared at it, then put her little hand in his. “You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. Her eyes grew big and she began to pull away, but he held on.

“Burt, the Author is like … he’s like a dad. See, last week I was practicing my baseball swing, and I hit the ball through a window. Smash. Just like that. I knew my dad was going to come out and yell at me, so I ran and hid up in my tree house. I didn’t come down for a long time. And then he came up to get me. I figured he was going to yell at me.”

Burt nodded, fascinated. “He yelled at you, right? He kicked you out and now you have to live in this tree?”

Jackson burst out laughing. “No! I said I was very sorry and I cried and I asked him to forgive me and you know what he said?” Burt shook her head. “He said, ‘That was a nice shot. Don’t do it again.’ “

Burt’s eyes grew huge. “But that’s your dad. That’s not the Author. He won’t forgive me. And,” she said with a sniff, “he definitely won’t forgive you.”

“Burt, you’re not getting it. The Author is like a dad. He loves you, and he always forgives you. He made you, right? Why do you think he made you?”

Burt blinked. “To serve him. That’s my job.”

Jackson laughed. “No! He made you because he wants to love you.”

Burt shook her head so hard that her messy hair became a blur. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Sense or not, it’s fact.”

Burt squeezed Jackson’s hand. “OK. That sounds easy. But I don’t know.”

“One step at a time.” Jackson hugged her. “Now let me help you clean this up.”

And they cleaned up. Jackson picked up the shards of glass and put them in the garbage receptacle. Burt swept the gazebo.

“Now what?” she asked.

Jackson smiled. “Now we have hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles!”