The keeper wades into the pool and hauls Red from the water. Red’s soaking and covered in green sludge. Water has filled his nose and mouth. He’s coughing and spluttering and trying to scrape the slime from his face.
The keeper lifts Red onto the concrete and holds him by his coat.
“Let him go,” I yell. Red hates being held by anyone but me. I know he’ll panic.
Red can feel the man’s hands. He starts wriggling and clawing at him.
“Let him go!”
Red shrieks and snorts and twists. He sounds more like a trapped animal than a boy. He sinks his teeth into the keeper’s hand. The keeper lets go, and I crouch down beside Red and put my arms around him, but he’s lost inside himself and he’s fighting me now too. One of Red’s hands comes free and cracks me on the nose. I hear the keeper speak into his walkie-talkie. It buzzes and crackles and I can hear another voice.
Red’s yells are getting louder. He’s on his side, flinging his arms around, kicking his legs against the ground. People are watching us, staring in at us. We’re part of the entertainment now.
I try to hold him. “Red, it’s me. It’s me, Scarlet.”
But Red can’t hear me. He’s lost inside himself.
The keeper crouches down beside me and tries to hold Red’s head to stop him banging it against the ground. He looks around him, then turns to me. “Where’s his mum or dad? Who’s looking after him?”
“I am,” I say. “I’m his sister.”
I see him look between us, taking us both in. Working it out.
The keeper frowns. “Are you on your own?”
If he finds out we got in the zoo by ourselves, Ray will get in big, big trouble. “Mum had to take our little sister home ’cause she was sick,” I lie. “She’s coming back for us in a while.”
The keeper is distracted by Red’s cries.
I can hardly hold Red still.
The keeper takes off his jacket and pushes it beneath Red’s head. “Is he on pills? Medication? What does he need?”
“He needs the feather,” I say.
The keeper frowns. “The feather?”
I nod my head in the direction of the pond. “He wants that one. The scarlet ibis feather.”
The keeper looks at Red, then wades across the pond and returns with the feather.
“Red,” I say. “I’ve got it.” Red’s hands are balled up in fists. Blood is running from the corner of his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue. I try to slide the feather shaft into his closed hand. “Look, Red. It’s the scarlet ibis feather. The one you wanted.”
Red opens one eye and peers at the feather. His body’s trembling, but the feather holds him. It’s the long flight feather. The barbs are straggly and wet, but I smooth them, bringing them together, making the feather perfect. Making it whole again. I feel Red slowly relax. He opens the other eye and just stares at the feather.
“See?” I smile at him and stroke his forehead. “We got it, didn’t we?”
When I look up, another zookeeper has joined us. She’s young, her blond hair is scraped back from her face. She kneels down and looks at Red. “You okay, mate?”
“He’ll be fine,” I say.
She stands up and brushes her trousers. She looks around at the crowd staring in. “Reckon we need to get you out of here and cleaned up a bit.”
I help Red to his feet. “I’ll take him home.”
The keeper shakes her head. “He’ll freeze in those wet things. We’ve got some spare overalls in the Prep Room. He can wear those while we dry his clothes.”
I look at Red. His teeth are chattering and he’s beginning to shiver. He needs to get dry. I know we shouldn’t go off with strangers, but I don’t know what else to do. “Where’s the Prep Room?”
She nods her head across to the other side of the zoo. “Not far.”
I take Red by the arm and follow the keepers out of the pavilion and across the zoo. The wind bites at my skin, and I can see Red’s lips and hands are blue.
The keeper opens the door of the Prep Room and smiles. “I’m Amy, by the way. Reptile Woman.” She points at the keeper who first found us. “And this is Jim. He’s in charge of the birds. He’s the Birdman.”
Jim gives a thumbs-up. “Do you want us to call your mum?”
I shake my head. “Home’s not far. We’ll be okay.”
* * *
The Prep Room is clean and dry, and it’s warm in here too. Boxes of fruits and nuts are stacked against the wall. Chopping boards and knives lie on the work surfaces, and a pile of clean overalls and towels are folded on top of a washing machine.
Amy holds up some overalls. “They’re a bit big, but we can roll up the sleeves and trouser legs.”
I help Red take off his wet clothes and climb into the overalls. Red won’t let go of the feather. He holds it in his hand as I slide his arms through the sleeves.
Amy rolls up the wet clothes to take them away to dry. She holds up Red’s coat and tries to scrape off the slime clinging to the back, cuffs, and sleeves. “I’ll try to get most of it off,” she says, “but it’ll need a good wash when you get home. Hope your mum won’t mind.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
Amy puts the coat over a radiator to dry. “It’s what mums are for, eh?”
I smile, but stare at the floor.
Amy empties the muddy water from Red’s sneakers into the sink and passes me some huge boots for Red to borrow.
I hold them up for Red. “What d’you think, Red?”
But he’s crouching down beside a wire basket on the floor, staring at a gray ball of fluffy feathers inside.
“That’s Woody,” says Jim. “He’s a wood owl.”
Amy elbows Jim in the ribs. “Really original! Must’ve taken you an age to think that name up.”
Jim kneels down beside Red. “He’s only young, but his mum rejected him. We’ve got to feed him now.”
Red presses his face closer to the basket.
“I’ll get him out,” says Jim. “His feed’s due about now. You can help if you like.”
I watch as Red sits cross-legged while Jim places the owl chick on his lap. Red wraps his hands around the soft feathers. He’s never held a bird before. Woody’s heart-shaped face stares up, his huge black eyes fixed on Red’s.
“He likes you,” says Jim.
Red smiles. He runs his finger from the top of Woody’s head to his stump of a tail. Woody opens his beak so wide I can see right down his throat.
“You’d better feed him,” says Jim. “It might not look very nice but his dinner’s chopped-up day-old chicks.”
I feel a bit sick seeing the bits of heads and legs all jumbled up together, but Red doesn’t seem to mind. He picks up a piece and dangles it in front of Woody.
“Bit closer,” says Jim.
Red lowers his hand and Woody snatches the piece of chick, swallowing it down with huge gulps.
“Well done,” says Jim. “He wouldn’t take it from me this morning. Keep going.”
We watch Red feed Woody. Red’s forehead is knotted in concentration. It’s as if the owl chick is the only thing that exists in his world.
Amy smiles. “Hey, Jim, I reckon you’ve found yourself a soul mate there.”
Jim puts his hand on Red’s shoulder. “We have ourselves another birdman.”
Red looks up, right at Jim. He looks him right in the eye. A small smile curls at the corners of his mouth. “I’m Bird Boy,” he says.
I miss a breath.
Red never looks directly at anyone, never speaks to them, or smiles. The doctors say it’s part of his condition. The only person to ever see him smile is me.
“Bird Boy,” says Jim. He watches Red feed another piece of meat to Woody, and doesn’t even realize the miracle he’s done.
It’s one small moment, one fleeting moment, but for me the world has tilted on its axis and thrown us on a different course.
Maybe the doctors are wrong about Red. Maybe there is a key to his condition. Maybe we’ve just found it and can help him.
* * *
My stomach growls really loudly and Jim checks his watch. “Woody’s had his lunch. I guess it’s our turn now.”
“Come on,” says Amy, “I’ll take you both to the café while the clothes are drying. I’m sure Sandra will find you something to eat.”
Red follows Amy out through the door. He’s clutching the scarlet ibis feather in one hand, stroking it with the other. I turn back to Jim. “Thank you for the feather.”
“That’s okay,” he says. He puts Woody back in the wire basket. “What’s with the feather thing, anyway?”
I shrug my shoulders. “He collects them.”
Jim washes his hands and shakes them dry. “Well, I guess there’s no harm in that.” He smiles. “Unless of course you go drowning yourself in the process.”
I pick at the frayed edges of my coat. “Red’s different,” I say. I don’t usually talk to people about Red. The doctors have given him their labels. He doesn’t need any more. But Jim’s the Birdman, and Red seems to trust him. “Red needs the feathers. They’re like the missing pieces of himself he’s trying to find. He needs them to find his way into our world.”
Jim looks ahead at Red and smiles. “Maybe he needs them to help him fly.”
I smile back, because I think Jim is the first person I’ve met who actually understands.
* * *
I tell Red to eat as much as he can, because we don’t have to pay for any of it. Sandra has let us choose anything we want from the café. I take a huge plate of curry, rice, and salad, and a massive slice of cake and an apple. Red has a burger with loads of chips that he covers in tomato sauce. Sandra brings us two mugs of hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows.
I feel so full afterward that I don’t think I can move. Even Red flops back in his chair. I lean across to him and whisper, “Whatever you do, Red, don’t be sick. You don’t want to waste a meal like this!”
We wait there, in the warm fug of the café, until Amy comes to find us. “How’re you guys doing? Do you want anything else to eat?”
“Couldn’t fit it in,” I say.
“Well, Jim’s got your clothes ready. He’s found something else for you too.”
Back in the Prep Room, I help Red into his clothes. They still smell pretty bad, but at least they’re dry. His sneakers are damp, but they’ll be okay until we get home.
“Here,” says Jim. “You might like these.” He hands Red a plastic bag.
Red looks inside and his eyes widen. He turns to me and shows me what’s inside.
Feathers. A bag full of feathers. All colors and sizes. Flight feathers, downy feathers, display feathers.
“I always pick up the nice ones,” says Jim. “Don’t know why. They’re too good to leave lying around.”
Red pulls out a long blue feather, half the length of his arm.
“Hyacinth macaw,” he says. He pulls out another. It’s long and feathery, dark blue-gray. “Cassowary.” He pulls out feather after feather. . . . “Socorro dove, blue-winged kookaburra, white pelican . . .”
Jim laughs. “You know them all. I reckon you should get home before you put me out of a job.”
I get up to leave. “We’d better go.”
Jim smiles. “Well, come back again and see us,” he says. “I’ll look out for more feathers.”
I walk with Red toward the exit. Red’s buzzing. He’s reeling off the names of the feathers in the bag. He can’t stop talking. The sky is clear and blue. Although the air is cold, I can feel the sun’s warm rays deep beneath my skin. It’s been the perfect day. An amazing day. Miracles have happened. I’ve never seen Red like this. Maybe sunshine can make everyone happy.
Then I see it in the gift shop window. It’s a Sun Jar. It looks just like an old-fashioned jam jar, but tiny solar lights inside collect sunlight and give out a warm golden glow at night.
I feel for the zoo money in my pocket. We didn’t buy chips and ice cream, so I’ve got just about enough.
I have to get it.
It’s the perfect thing for Mum.
Maybe I can make her happy, if I can bring back home the sun.