CHAPTER EIGHT

One good thing about Lexie is that she taught me how to tiptoe while I’m wearing sneakers. The trick is to tiptoe inside my sneakers. Most people try to put their shoes down quietly, but the real way is to put your toes down quietly inside your shoes, and that makes your shoes go down quietly, too.

Joseph is also good at tiptoeing.

We approach the trash can from opposite directions. Animals know you’re creeping up on them if you’re obvious about it, so I gaze at the blue sky and think thoughts like, Hello, blue sky. What a pretty color. And look! The sun’s starting to set! Good job, sun.

I think these thoughts loudly. My footsteps are quiet, and my thoughts are loud, and this way the birds can go about their business without having the bird-thought of, Yikes! Big thing coming! FLY!

We close in on the brown bird. We are so amazingly sneaky until a crow flaps its wings and caws, right in Joseph’s face.

“Ahhhh!” Joseph cries.

The birds fly away in one big mass, and there goes our sneakiness. We burst out laughing, even though I’m sure we’ve scared every last bird away.

“Custard!” I say.

“Wait,” Joseph says. “Look. Over there.”

I scan the ground. The brown bird isn’t gone. He’s just hiding behind the trash can. We move slowly toward him, and he hops as fast as he can. He tries to fly, but his wings don’t work right.

Still, he’s quicker than I am, because when I lunge for him, my hands close on empty air.

“Almost!” Joseph says.

“Try again,” I say.

We circle the bird. He definitely can’t fly, or he’d be gone already.

“We’re not going to hurt you, bird,” I tell him, since our cover has already been blown. I bet he’s scared with the two of us looming over him. I don’t want him to be.

“Boys?” Mom calls. She has one hand on Baby Maggie’s car seat and the other on her phone, which she’s holding to her chest. “What are you two up to?”

Mothers are like birds. It’s better, sometimes, if they don’t know exactly what you’re thinking.

“Just playing,” I say, which is true. We’re having fun, and that counts as playing. There’s no need to say, “And the game we are playing is called Let’s Catch a Bird.”

“All right, well, I’m chatting with your aunt Lucy,” Mom tells us.

Her remark might seem random, but it’s not. Mom has her own Mom-language, just like the birds have bird-language and Joseph and I have boy-language.

I’m pretty good at Mom-language, though. What she’s really saying is, So please let me keep chatting, because I don’t get the chance to talk to Aunt Lucy nearly enough. Life is so busy! And plus, Baby Maggie! So stay out of trouble and let me have a few minutes to myself. Will you do that for me, boys?

I give her a thumbs-up. “Tell her ‘hi’ for me!”

Mom smiles. She puts her phone back to her ear and I hear her say, “Luce? I’m back. Now about this Sam guy . . .”

The birds that flew away are beginning to return. They pick at the leftovers in the trash can, but they make sure to keep an eye on me and Joseph.

“Sure is a nice night,” I say casually. “Don’t you think?”

“Huh?” Joseph says.

“And the sunset—isn’t it beautiful?” From the side of my mouth, I say, “Play it cool. Don’t let the crows make you go, ‘Ahhhhh!’ again.”

“I didn’t mean to the first time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just saying.” I hook my thumbs through my belt loops and bounce lightly on the balls of my feet. La la la, just out for a stroll.

In my casual, talking-about-the-sunset tone, I say, “You walk toward me, and I’ll walk toward you. If we keep Fernando between us, then he can’t get away.”

“Fernando?”

“Don’t. Laugh. Didn’t we just cover this?”

“Fernando,” Joseph states.

“Yes. Fernando. Now come on.”

I step toward Fernando. His sugar eyes blink, and he hops toward Joseph. Joseph steps closer, and Fernando hops back toward me. He chirps, and Joseph and I look at each other. We grin.

Fernando hops back again and lands on my toe. Eeek! Fernando is on my toe! Joseph drops to his knees. His hands fly out and close around Fernando, and . . . omigosh! He has him! Joseph has Fernando!!!

“You did it!” I cry.

“I did!” Joseph says.

“You caught a bird, a real live bird! And Joseph, that is way cooler than burping!”

Joseph is so surprised by this news that his hands fall open and Fernando drops to the ground. He lands on the concrete with a splumph.

Joseph and I suck in our breath.

“IS HE DEAD?” Joseph asks in a too-loud whisper.

“I DON’T KNOW!” I loud-whisper back.

Joseph gulps. “Fernando?”

I squat and say, “Please be alive. Okay, Fernando? Please?”

Fernando twitches.

I hold perfectly still.

Fernando does a full-body quiver, and just like that he’s back on his feet and hopping away in his extremely fast-hopping way.

“CATCH HIM!” Joseph and I yell.

It’s a mad scramble. Joseph’s elbow hits my eye, and my knee hits Joseph’s shin. Then my knee lands on the asphalt—ow!—and it occurs to me in a far back part of my mind that I’ll have another bruise, and possibly a nice bloody scrape.

Fernando hops and chirps—

And Joseph and I lunge and grab—

And this time I catch him. Fernando, not Joseph. His body is warm. His heart goes drub-drub-drub-drub-drub beneath my fingers.

My heart races, too, because . . . a bird! My very own bird! He flutters against my cupped hands, feathers and feet and a tiny sharp beak. It tickles. I’m suddenly afraid that I might drop him.

“Can I borrow your hat?” I ask Joseph.

“Why?”

“To put Fernando in, and also . . .” I glance at Mom, who’s still on the phone. She’s holding on to Baby Maggie’s foot and laughing at whatever Aunt Lucy is saying. She’s not paying attention to Joseph and me at all.

“Well, just in case,” I say. “Only until I get Fernando home. Then I’ll find someplace better.”

“But you’re dropping me off first.”

“So?”

“So if Fernando is in my hat, I won’t have it for tomorrow.”

“So?”

Joseph looks away. He’s either frustrated or embarrassed or both, and I’m pretty sure I know why. I want to tell him he doesn’t need a hat, and that he can be bald or partway bald or not at all bald. Whatever he wants.

Instead, I say, “It’s so soft and comfy-looking.”

Joseph fingers the edge of his hat. I stay quiet.

He tugs it off and hands it to me. “Oh, fine.”

I ease Fernando into Joseph’s hat, and my heart swells. He’s so tiny and cute in there.

“Thanks,” I say.

Joseph rubs the back of his head. “You’re welcome, but he better not poop in there.”