16 Settling In

Clare and Dante

 

“ And then he told Clare that he had thought she was smart, but maybe it was me doing her homework! ”

Dante had been so excited about identifying the chickweed and Jason ’ s compliment that Marissa got an earful before the car doors slammed shut.

“ I think he was kidding, Dante, ” Clare said graciously, “ but even if he wasn ’ t, you are really smart. ” Clare had always been a good big sister to Dante and she wasn ’ t about to stop when he needed her most. It couldn ’ t be easy for a child who barely remembered his father to now be separated from his mother as well. Clare reminded herself of this whenever she was tempted to be selfish or smart-mouthed. The strategy worked most of the time.

Marissa looked at Clare in the rearview mirror and smiled. “ You are both very smart children. But tell me again, what was the class about? ”

Clare excitedly explained about edible weeds and learning to identify them. Marissa laughed. “ Well, I ’ ll be darned. So now they ’ re teaching you to eat weeds. That must be something new they ’ ve added. We won ’ t be eating any weeds around here. ” She laughed again. “ Y ou can if you want, but why bother when we have so many good vegetables to eat? ”

Clare’ s heart sank. Sometimes Marissa ’ s skepticism troubled her. For being a host, she didn ’ t seem to understand what it was like where Clare and Dante came from.

“ Because what if you couldn ’ t plant a garden but you wanted some good, healthy greens? ” Dante said.

Clare smiled. That ’ s my little brother .

“ Oh, of course, ” Marissa mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

 

Even before the Garden Guardian classes in January, the children ’ s gardening education had begun. Ever since arriv ing on Canadian soil Clare and Dante had experienced one new thing after another. It had started on that moonlit night, the moment they discovered the “ apple forest, ” as Dante had called it, and had not ended. Even though Marissa often said, “ It ’ s not my job to teach you— I’ m just here to love and feed you, ” life on the farm was itself an education.

One of Clare and Dante ’ s favorite things was checking the chicken coop each day for eggs. Less exciting was cleaning the coop, but even the droppings, they learned, were valuable fertilizer for the vegetable garden.

“ Dante, it ’ s your turn to clean. ”

“Won ’ t you do it, Clare? ”

“ Why? You ’ re perfectly capable. ”

“ But I ’ m just a little kid. ”

Clare rolled her eyes. Dante had been coddled so much in the Guardian class lately that he was starting to take advantage of the situation , even at home. Fortunately, Marissa stood nearby.

“ What ’ s this? Aren ’ t you the same l ad who rode his bicycle 6 00 kilometers through long dark nights, all the way to Canada? And you don ’ t think you can handle a little chicken poop? ”

Dante cracked up hearing Marissa say the word “ poop.” H e knew she was right. With no more complaints, he put on his boots and coat and left out the back door.

“ Thanks, ” Clare said to Marissa.

“ No problem. He wouldn ’ t be the first little brother who tried to guilt-trip his sister into doing his chores for him. ”

“ I guess . And I don ’ t actually mind cleaning the coop. I just feel like staying in right now. It ’ s so cozy and warm. ”

She meant it, too. Cleaning the chicken coop wasn ’ t that bad. Clare used a pitchfork to toss the soiled straw into a wheelbarrow. One trip to the compost pile was usually enough. She had learned about composting in class and looked forward to watching the pile of plant debris, leaves, chicken droppings, grass clippings, and table scraps change into rich, fertile compost for the garden. She remembered the class with Monroe Cassidy and smiled to herself.

Besides, the chickens made her laugh. She truly enjoyed their company. Although Clare had seen chickens at the summer fair, she had never thought of them as pets or realized they could be so endearing. But John and Marissa had raised the dozen or so hens from chicks and named each of them. They believed white chickens and white eggs were boring ; they owned a mix of breeds including Rhode Island Red, Plymouth Rock, Buff Orpington, and Australor p, all of whom produced eggs of several colors and hues.

N ow Clare and Dante shared in the watching, feeding, holding, and sometimes chasing of Ruby, Sparkles, Fluffy, Buffy, and Clover—to name a few. The way their bell-shaped bottoms rocked from side to side and their necks bobbed out in front of them as they scurried across the yard never failed to amuse the children. John taught them how to hold the chickens just right, close to their bodies with the wings pinned to keep them from flapping. Clare often wondered what Lily would think if she could see them clutching the docile and cooing hens. Or Mama—she had a feeling Mama would love holding a chicken and running her long fingers over the soft, smooth feathers.

“ Sweetie, your mini-Monitor is ringing. ”

“Huh? ”

“ Someone is calling you. ”

“ Oh.” Before the Guardian class, Clare had never owned a mini-Monitor or carried a telecom. She had seen them on Monitor shows, but most people she knew back home couldn ’ t afford to pay the usage fees or to buy the more reliable units. She ran to the table where her homework lay.

“ How do I answer it? ”

“ Just pick it up and open the case. ”

She did as she was told. Jason ’ s smiling face greeted her.

“ Hey there, Clare. ”

“ Hi. ”

“ You okay? ”

“ Sure. I — I —How ’ d you call me? ”

“ The directory. ”

“ Oh.” It wasn ’ t what she meant.

He gave her a quizzical look. “ Anyway, I was wondering whether or not you ’ ve done your homework. ”

“ Yes. I always do it as soon as I get home. ”

“ Man, I don ’ t see how you can stand that. I need a break. I don ’ t even think the Guardian classes should have homework. I mean, there ’ s still the regular schoolwork. ”

Clare just looked at him.

“ So, I wasn ’ t sure about number 12, ” he said. “ Is gypsum a good substitute for lime? ”

“ Just a minute. ” She checked her answers. “ No,” she said. “ Gypsum does not affect the pH of the soil. That ’ s what the text said. But it was kind of confusing . . . the way it was written. ”

“ No doubt, ” he agreed. “ So what are you doing? ”

“ Reading. Enjoying keeping warm. I was talking with Marissa—my host mom— just now.” Clare knew Marissa could hear the conversation and wanted to clue in Jason that their exchange wasn ’ t private.

“ Hi, Marissa!” Jason called.

“ Hello, ” she answered.

“ This is Jason, ” Clare held up the mini-Mon , making introductions. “ Jason, Marissa. ” He waved.

Just then Dante returned from the chicken coop. “ Hey, what ’ s tha—Jason? ” He looked at Clare and back to the screen in her hands. “ Cool! I didn ’ t know we could do that on those— it’ s just like on Monitor shows! ”

“ Hey, Dante, ” Jason ’ s face said.

“ Goin’ down! ” Dante replied, trying o ut the latest slang.

“ Okay, Jason. My battery ’ s low. See you tomorrow. ” Clare closed the cover, unsure of how to end the call. She heard the Monitor click off.

“ Your battery wasn ’ t low, ” Dante said.