When I can’t think on what I need to do, or when I need to solve a really hard problem, what I do is climb up high, up to the top of that Good Night sign,” said Burke.

“Well, I am not climbing up to the top of that sign,” I said. “Because as I told you before, I am afraid of heights.”

“We don’t got to go to the top of the sign,” said Burke. “Just to the top of a tree. Setting in a tree and looking up can help you figure things out.”

Well, I didn’t have any more strength to argue with him.

And in addition, I didn’t know who I was. For all I knew, I was somebody who was not afraid of heights. My goodness, it was possible.

I followed Burke to the big live oak beside the Good Night, Sleep Tight. He climbed up into the crook of it, and then he stood there and looked down at me. “All you got to do is give me your hand, Louisiana,” he said. “I’ll go on ahead of you, and I’ll keep holding out my hand to you, all right?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

Clarence was sitting on a branch, watching both of us.

“This here is the first step,” said Burke. “This is where you start. Come on. You got to do the first part on your own. Grab hold of the tree.”

I walked closer to the tree.

Clarence laughed.

“Grab hold of that branch right there,” said Burke.

I took hold of the branch. It was rough and warm.

“Good,” said Burke. “Now, go on and pull yourself up just a bit.”

I pulled myself up.

Burke smiled at me. He went up higher in the tree.

“Come on, now,” he said. He held out his hand.

Well, I was off the ground and in the tree, and I just didn’t think I was interested in going much farther. The person I used to call Granny had always told me that I was “overly cautious physically.” And I suppose I was.

But maybe I didn’t have to be.

Maybe it was like Reverend Obertask had said: I could decide who I wanted to be.

Burke said, “Louisiana, if you take my hand and come up higher, I will go and get you anything you want out of that old vending machine.”

And that is always the problem with me, isn’t it?

I cannot keep from wanting things.

“I want peanuts,” I said.

“All right,” said Burke. He stuck his hand out farther.

“And an Oh Henry! bar.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Two Oh Henry! bars.”

“I’ll get you everything you want,” he said.

I took Burke’s hand. It felt rough and warm, the same as the tree branch.

“Come on,” said Burke. “I got hold of you. Put your foot right there. Don’t look down.”

I put my foot where he told me to. I kept hold of his hand. I did not look down. And bit by bit, we climbed to the top of the tree.

It is a wondrous thing to be at the top of a tree!

Particularly when you have two Oh Henry! bars to eat. And a bag of peanuts.

When we got to the top, Burke left me and climbed back down to go to the vending machine.

I stayed and held on to the branch. I looked down and guess what?

I did not feel afraid. I truly did not. Maybe it was because Clarence was on the branch next to me, or maybe it was just because I was done with being afraid. Or who knows? Maybe I had never been afraid of heights to begin with. Maybe it was just one more lie that “Granny” had told me about myself.

I don’t know.

But I do know that I ate both candy bars and all the peanuts. Burke and Clarence were beside me, and even though the light was fading, I was happy.

The three of us watched together as the sky turned into a purple kind of blue.

“Lookit,” said Burke. “You can see the stars now.”

It got darker and the stars got brighter, and I still felt happy, so I started to sing. I sang a song about sitting in a tree with a boy and a crow, looking up at the stars.

It was a happy song. I put an Oh Henry! bar into it. And also peanuts and a marble cake. I did not add curses or dark alleys. I put only happy things in the song, and it made me happy to sing it.

“Dang,” said Burke when I was done. “That’s a good song.”

At least I knew that about myself. At least I knew I was somebody who could sing.

That was something Granny had given me.

She had given me a lot. I suppose.

“Look right there,” I said to Burke. “That’s the Pinocchio constellation.”

“Where?” said Burke.

“That one right there. See? That is the face, and that is the long nose of someone telling a lie.”

“Shoot, Louisiana,” said Burke. “That constellation is called the Big Dipper. Grandpap showed me that one forever ago. See how it looks like a big old scoop? And that’s the handle to it, right there. It ain’t a nose. It’s a handle. And over there is the North Star. That’s the one you want to look for when you’re lost in the woods, because then you know what direction north is, and then you ain’t lost anymore.”

“Oh,” I said.

I stared up at the North Star. I could not imagine not being lost.

“We should probably head on back so they don’t come looking for us,” said Burke. “You want me to help you? With the climbing down?”

“No,” I said. “I can do it. You go ahead of me, and I’ll follow you.”

“All right,” said Burke.

“Have you ever had marble cake?” I asked Burke as we went down the tree.

“I have had all of them cakes that Mama makes,” he said. “I have had every one of them. They’re all good.”

“Your mother figured out that Granny is gone,” I said when we were both back on the ground.

Burke turned to me.

“And she told me that I could stay with you,” I said. “That I could live with your family.”

“That means you ain’t going to go back to Florida, then?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I said. “Do you want me to stay?”

Burke shrugged. He said, “I think it would be all right if you stayed. I think it would be great if you stayed.” He shrugged again. “But I ain’t going to tell you what to do.”

I nodded. I said, “Show me again which star is the North Star.”

Burke pointed. “That one. Right there.”

“Thank you,” I said.

It seems like a good thing to know the star that can keep you from being lost in this world.