“IIIII-VEEE!” Bean shouted into Ivy’s mail slot. “Yoooooo-hooo!”
“Hello, Bean,” said Ivy’s mom, opening the front door. “Care for a slice of cucumber?” She was holding a plate of them.
Bean wanted to say, Are you nuts? But she knew that wasn’t polite. “No thank you,” she said. “Is Ivy home?”
“She’s out in the yard,” said Ivy’s mom. “Go on back.”
Bean walked down the path beside Ivy’s house and opened the gate that led to the backyard. Ivy’s yard didn’t have a trampoline like Bean’s, but it did have big rocks and a perfectly round puddle that Ivy called a pond even though she had to fill it with the hose. Ivy was standing still in the middle of the long, weedy grass. Her arms were raised to the sky, and she had a big smile on her face.
“Are you trying to fly?” called Bean.
Ivy turned to Bean and smiled even bigger, but she didn’t move. “Hi,” she whispered.
“Wave your arms,” advised Bean.
Ivy smiled so hard her eyeballs bulged out.
“What the heck are you doing?” Bean asked.
“I’m trying to be good,” whispered Ivy.
“What?” yelled Bean. She waded through the weedy grass.
“I’m trying to be good,” Ivy whispered again.
“Why do you have to be so quiet about it?” Now Bean was whispering, too.
“Because I don’t want to scare the birds away. I’m trying to be so good that birds land on my fingers and wolves come out of the woods and follow me down the street,” Ivy explained.
Bean stared. “Why would being good make birds land on your fingers and wolves do whatever you just said?”
“I found out about it yesterday. If you’re super-good and pure of heart, animals think you’re one of them and they love you and follow you around.”
Ivy’s arms were trembling. She must have been holding them up for a while. “Are you sure about this?” asked Bean.
“Positive. I saw it in a picture. There was this guy with birds flying all around him and a wolf licking his foot. My mom said this guy was so good that wild beasts talked to him and birds swarmed after him.”
“I don’t get it. Why did the birds swarm after him?”
“Because his heart was so pure and kind that they saw that he was the same as an animal on the inside. They loved him,” Ivy said.
Bean thought about that. “Like Snow White, you mean?” Hadn’t the birds helped Snow White make a pie?
Ivy made a face. “Snow White wasn’t good. She was a goonball. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to eat stuff you get from strangers.”
“But the birds liked her,” said Bean.
“Maybe the birds felt sorry for her, but they didn’t think she was one of them,” said Ivy. “Anyway, I don’t want to be like Snow White. I want to be like the guy in the picture. I want a wolf to follow me because I’m pure of heart.”
A wolf. Bean pictured a shaggy wolf walking beside her while a bird rested on her shoulder. Her mom and dad would be scared half to death, but Bean would say, “The wolf won’t hurt you. He’s my friend.” Then the wolf and Bean would give each other long, understanding looks. And then Bean’s mom and dad would feel rotten because they hadn’t realized that Bean was so pure of heart. They had thought she was a pain. Bean smiled at Ivy. “A wolf would be pretty cool.”
“We could share him,” said Bean.
“Sure we could,” said Ivy. “That’s what good people do. They share.”
“He doesn’t even have to lick my foot,” said Bean. “It’s fine if he just follows me around.”
“I know,” said Ivy. “Me, too.” She raised her arms again. “But I’m starting with birds. I think they’ll be easier to get than a wolf. You know,” she whispered, “they’re not so smart.” She looked up and smiled at the sky. “La-la-la,” she sang sweetly.
“I don’t see any birds,” said Bean, glancing up.
“Me neither,” said Ivy. “Maybe they’re hiding in the trees.”
Bean watched her for another moment. “I like birds, too,” she said in a loud voice. “Almost as much as wolves.” She held her hands upward. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Be so good that a bird lands on you?”
“You can’t think about yourself. You have to think nice thoughts about other people,” said Ivy.
Bean concentrated. She thought, I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. Even though you’re totally unfair. She thought of Nancy. Oh, I guess I love you, too, Nancy. Then she thought of Nancy saying, “Seven-year-olds aren’t allowed to go to horse camp, so HA!” and “Isn’t it past Bean’s bedtime, Mom?” Stupid Nancy, I hope you fall off a horse. Oops.
“Boy, this is harder than it looks,” she said to Ivy. “I can think nice thoughts about my mom and dad, but that’s it.”
“Oh, your mom and dad are too easy. You aren’t good enough if you just think nice thoughts about your mom and dad. You have to think nice thoughts about mean people.”
“Holy moly, I can’t even think nice thoughts about Nancy, and she’s my sister.”
“I’m thinking nice thoughts about Crummy Matt,” Ivy announced.
“No way!” said Bean.
Crummy Matt was the meanest kid Bean knew. He was so mean he told little kids that chocolate milk was brown because it had poop in it. He was so mean that he kicked kickballs onto the school roof on purpose, so no one else could play with them. He was so mean he threw rocks at cats.
“Uh-huh,” said Ivy proudly. “I am.”
“There’s nothing nice to think about Crummy Matt,” said Bean.
“I’m thinking that I hope he stops being so crummy,” said Ivy. “Hey—it’s working!”
A little brown bird was hopping near Ivy’s pond. Boing, boing, boing.
Ivy held her breath.
“Here, birdie!” squeaked Bean.
Ivy sighed. “Now I have to start all over again.”
“Sorry,” said Bean.
Ivy smiled in a pure-of-heart way at Bean. “Now I’m thinking nice thoughts about you,” she said.
Bean didn’t like the sound of that.
