Fish in a Tree

  I’m excited. Until I see it’s a book. Not like I hate them like I used to. But they still scare me.

  I stare at it. Hoping he just wants to book talk it. Not actually read it.

  “I’d like you to read this.”

  I open my mouth to speak, my mind already rolling out multiple excuses.

  He puts his hand up. “Listen, Ally. I know it won’t be easy. I know it will take time. But the thing is . . .”

  My excuses become harder to say.

  “I think you can read this one. And I want you to try.”

  I reach out and take the book, which has a picture of a kid holding a goldfish bowl.

  I flip through the pages. The book isn’t long, as far as chapter books go. That’s a relief.

  I look up at him and hold his gaze. Normally, I’d be giving him all kinds of reasons I can’t do this. But the thing is, Mr. Daniels could hand me a book as heavy as a boulder and I’d try to read it.

  Just because he asked me to.

  • • •

  “Okay, we are going to begin a unit on persuasive writing,” Mr. Daniels says. “So I’d like you to tell me, if you could have an unlimited amount of any single object, what would it be? It can’t be magical, have special powers, or anything like that. Just an ordinary, everyday type of object.”

  “Well, obviously”—Shay speaks slowly, like she’s talking to a little kid—“wouldn’t everyone just choose money?”

  Albert looks confused. Not something I see too often. “The first thing I thought of was antibiotics.”

  “Really?” Mr. Daniels steps forward, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “There are many who can’t afford medications, so I would like to give them out to people who need them. All over the world.” Then he seems to be thinking out loud. “I wonder if antibiotics would help or hurt alien life-forms?”

  “Well,” Shay sputters, “if you had an unlimited amount of money, you could buy the medicine, right?” I catch her rolling her eyes at Jessica.

  He shrugs. “I’d rather just have the medicine.”

  “Scotch tape!” Oliver yells. “I’d want Scotch tape!”

  Most of us laugh along with him. “And why is that, Oliver?” Mr. Daniels asks.

  “Because it’s awesome, that’s why. People don’t think how tough life would be without Scotch tape.”

  Mr. Daniels nods. “You may have a point there, Oliver!”

  “Or Elmer’s glue. I love Elmer’s glue. If I had barrels of it stored up in the garage, I could cover my hands with it every day. And then peel it off. I love doing that. And it grosses out my mom. I tell her it’s skin.”

  Shay makes a noise.

  “What?” Oliver asks her.

  “That’s ridiculous,” she says.

  “What’s ridiculous?” he asks.

  “The opinions of others are to be respected,” Mr. Daniels says, but Shay and Oliver talk right over him.

  “Wanting tape and glue,” Shay says.

  “No it isn’t, because I would also use them with paper to make notes for my little sister. They make her feel better.”

  “Make her feel better?” Mr. Daniels seems concerned. “Is she ill?”

  “Oh, not anymore. But she had something that was called . . . well . . . it was long. It had five syllables and she had to go to the hospital a lot to sleep over. And when she’d go, I’d visit her and bring cards. And they made her happy. My mom says I was the one who helped her get better.”

  “I see. Well, Oliver, you get huge creativity points today.” Mr. Daniels musses his hair. “You’re one of a kind, you know that, Oliver?”

  Suki raises her hand. “Grandfather says everyone is unique. Special. Unlike all others. That makes us each great.”

  “I like that, Suki!” Mr. Daniels says. “And you are indeed great!”

  She remains seated but bows a bit. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Daniels bows back and then stands up straight. “In fact, you’re all great, my fantastic Fantasticos!”

  Albert raises his hand and Mr. Daniels nods toward him. “Excuse me, but just because something is unique, that doesn’t mean it’s good. After all, E. coli, a dangerous bacteria, is unlike all others.”

  “Point taken, Albert, but I do like that people are all different. What if we all looked the same, thought the same, had the same beliefs?”

  “That sounds boring,” Keisha says.

  “Indeed it does,” he says.

  I think that I wouldn’t mind being more like everyone else. But then I think . . . I wouldn’t want to draw like everyone else. And I wouldn’t want to act like Shay. Or Jessica.

  All of a sudden, there is screaming. It is Oliver. “Ant murderer! Ant murderer!”

  “What is it, Oliver?” Mr. Daniels asks.

  He points at Shay. “Ant murderer!”

  “All I did was step on a dumb ant. What is he so freaked out about?”

  “You had no right to kill him. He was just walking by.”

  “You think it was a him? It’s just a dumb ant. Who cares?”

  “I care,” Oliver says, getting down on all fours with a tissue to check on the ant, which is clearly dead. He cleans it up with a tissue and slips it into his pocket.

  “You’re going to keep it?” she sputters.

  “Well, I’m not going to just throw him in the garbage. I’ll bury him at home.”

  She begins to laugh.

  “Shay,” Mr. Daniels says. “There will be none of that.”

  She stops.

  “We are all different. You care about some things and Oliver cares about others. We have to work to accept each other. Even though we may not agree.”

  “Yeah!” Oliver yells.

  “And Oliver,” Mr. Daniels says, “I think you have to cut Shay a break here. It’s pretty common for people to step on ants.”

  “So?”

  “Oliver?” he asks, and waits.

  Oliver turns to Shay and mumbles, “Sorry.” And climbs back into his seat.

  “Thank you, Oliver.” Mr. Daniels wanders over to Oliver’s desk. “I’m glad you apologized. Now that you have”—he leans over and rests his hands on his knees—“I’d like to add that you have one of the kindest hearts I know. You care so much about everything. Always looking out for others. And that, my fine young fellow, is going to make for a great man someday.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Set the World on Fire

  After the teasing that Albert has taken for his shirt, Keisha and I decide to do something for him. The teasing hasn’t seemed to bother him that much, but it bothers us.

  So we made our own shirts to go with his.

  We walk up behind him while he is organizing his papers into piles. “Albert, do you like our shirts?” I ask.

  He turns around and stares. At me, with a shirt that says Steel, and Keisha, with a shirt that says Magnesium.

  I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen Albert truly confused.

  “Okay,” Keisha says. “Get it? They match your shirt. But not the genius guy alone on the rock in space with his robots thing, because I told you I thought that was a bit creepy . . .”

  Albert is still confused, so I interrupt. “The shirts match because the three of us together are going to set the world on fire. Like Mr. Daniels says.”

  “Yes,” he says, “flint, steel, and magnesium are commonly used together for fire starters. I get it.”

  The corner of Albert’s mouth twitches, which is like someone else doing cartwheels down the hall.

  Without thinking, I yell to Shay across the room, “Hey! You tease one of us, you tease all of us!”

  Shay has an expression like she’s just smelled rotten meat and it makes Keisha and me laugh really hard.

  Then I pat Albert on th
e back. “Just wanted you to know that you can always count on us.”

  “Well, that would make you either a set of fingers or an abacus.”

  “Uh, Albert. Seriously?” Keisha shakes her head and then leans forward. “It means we think you’re a cool dude.”

  “We’re allies.” I smile.

  He goes back to arranging his papers.

  “Yes, I know,” he says softly. “I am most grateful.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Tales of a Sixth Grade Something

  Travis drives me to school because the project I did for our book report is too hard to take on the bus. I’ve always used my art for projects at school, but this is a three-dimensional scene on a piece of wood. A scene from Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. The book that Mr. Daniels gave me to read.

  “What’s gotten into you?” Travis asks. “Since when do you smile like that on a Monday morning?”

  I’m going to school feeling proud for once. So I just sit there continuing to smile.

  “Hey,” he says, hitting me on the side of the leg. “I’m happy to see you so happy about school, Al.” He laughs a bit. “To be honest, I wouldn’t mind feeling some of that.”

  • • •

  When I get to class, lots of kids surround me. I guess it’s because the project is so big.

  Shay is the first to come over. She looks at the kitchen scene I have made mostly of paper, including a working light over the sink that Travis helped me make.

  “How did you do that?” Shay asks, pointing at the lit light over the sink.

  “There’s a battery underneath.”

  She looks disgusted. “And you made that?”

  Oliver comes over and grabs for the light. “Cool!” Before I can move, he knocks the wire, which makes the light go off.

  Shay begins, “Oliver, you’re such a—”

  “Leave him alone,” I interrupt. “If I don’t care, you shouldn’t.”

  Shay and Oliver are both wide-eyed but for different reasons. Oliver smiles a little.

  “It’s okay, Oliver. I’ll fix it.”

  Shay is squinty-eyed for a bit and then laughs in a way that is louder than normal. She’s pointing at my project. “I read that book like . . . four years ago. And there aren’t any soldiers in it,” she says, pointing at a picture hanging on the wall of the room I made.

  Max comes over. “What’s up?”

  “She has a picture in here that has nothing to do with the book. Book report, Ally? Should be about the book?”

  “Well,” I say, feeling a little warm all of a sudden, “most houses have art on the walls, so I figured I’d decorate the room and drew a picture of my dad in his uniform.”

  “Wait!” Max brightens. “Your dad is in the army?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s cool. What does he do?”

  “He’s a captain with a tank division.”

  “Your father drives tanks? Seriously? That’s awesome!”

  I look up. “Thanks.”

  He holds up his fist to fist-bump me. And as he walks away, he tells the other guys about my dad.

  From the look on Shay’s face, she can tell that her insult backfired on her.

  Then Mr. Daniels comes over. He’s wearing a tie with books on it. “Wow, Ally! That is amazing!” He leans forward and drops his voice. “I am really proud of you.”

  My response is stuck in my throat. I watch a series of movies in my head, trying to see a time when a teacher has said this to me. There isn’t one.

  “Ally?” he says.

  Still, I can’t speak. Usually when I find myself unable to speak, it’s because I’m humiliated. I like this feeling a lot more.

  CHAPTER 45

  My Brother’s Question

  I’m working on pictures of cupcakes that talk for an ad campaign for Keisha’s business. She asked me to help her. It feels great to have someone ask me for help.

  As I draw, I think about my sketchbook and how I love it but don’t draw in it as much anymore. It used to be the only thing that made me happy. Now I have other things, too.

  I hear Travis chewing gum in the doorway before I see him. Without looking up, I say, “Mom told you to stop chewing gum like a goat. The whole room is not supposed to hear you.”

  He goes silent. Weird.

  I finish erasing a line and look over at him. He looks kind of stiff. Hands stuffed in his pockets. Then he takes one hand out and brushes his chin with his fist.

  “Travis? What’s wrong?”

  “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

  “You want to borrow money or something?”

  He does that half smile of his and shakes his head. But I can see the seriousness.

  “You can ask me anything you want, Travis. What is it?”

  He comes over and sits on the side of the bed. “That teacher of yours. Mr. Daniels. What does he do after school with you?”

  “You mean chess?”

  He shakes his head. “No. The reading. What does he do? I mean, do you just sound out words and stuff?”

  I put down my pencil. “Well, we talk about words, but it’s not the same as other teachers. Like we never use paper. Ever. He has me write letters in blue or pink sand. Or sometimes in shaving cream.”

  “Really? So you can read now?”

  “Well, not yet. But it’s getting easier. It can be like running up the side of a building sometimes. I get so tired. But I am doing better.”

  “So it helps? What he does?”

  “Yeah. It’s more fun than learning the old way. Sometimes it’s boring because he’ll do a list of words that have some of the same letters in them. Like light and might and night. He writes the letters that repeat in every word in red and the rest in black. Then he makes the words into pictures so I can remember them better.”

  I flip my paper over. “Here. I’ll show you.” And I write sun with all these little lines around it pointing outward to look like the sun.

  “And that really helps you remember it?”

  “Yeah, and he also has these sheets of plastic that I can see through but are different colors. He puts those over pages and it makes the headaches better. It’s like turning the brightness down on a computer. It’s weird.”

  “No more headaches from reading? Really?”

  “Well, I still get them, but they’re not nearly as bad. Like a little stick hitting my head compared to a baseball bat.”

  Travis smiles and then stands up. “Well . . . I’m glad he’s helping you. And I’m glad that you have Keisha and Albert, squirt. You’re doing great.”

  “You’re doing great, too, Travis! Not long before you’ll open up Nickerson Restoration, right?”

  He nods once and turns to leave. He doesn’t talk about the neon sign he’ll have or the big rolling tool cases or anything. I miss hearing his mouth running like a motor about all his plans.

  “Travis?”

  He turns. “Yeah?”

  “I could try to help you?”

  “Naw,” he says, brushing his chin with his knuckles. “I don’t need you to do that. I was just wondering.”

  CHAPTER 46

  Flying Tigers and Baby Elephants

  “Well, Ally,” Albert says to me at lunchtime. “Before I really knew you, I used to call you ‘the Flying Tiger.’”

  “Oooh, Albert! That’s a great name,” Keisha says. “Like fierce. Like nobody messes with her, right?”

  I wish that described me, but it doesn’t. Why in the world would he nickname me that? I thought that Albert paid more attention to things. I look up and he is watching me.

  “Well,” he asks, “aren’t you wondering why I called you that?”

  I shrug.

  “It’s not an insult. Just my observation.”

  I shrug
again. “Fine. Tell me, then.”

  “Before the United States entered World War Two, there were a bunch of American pilots in China. They were called the Flying Tigers. They flew those planes with the shark teeth on the nose.”

  “Wait!” I say. “My dad and brother love those planes!”

  He nods once as I try hard to shake out the mind movie of me as an airplane.

  “They did not have many planes, so they would repaint them every few missions. Change a bit of the design and the numbers so that the Japanese would think there were far more of them than there really were.”

  I sort of know what he means.

  “I’ve watched you. Trying to figure out how to repaint yourself for other people all the time. Trying to make them think one thing about you when the opposite was true. Like with the teachers. Always getting sent to the office.”

  Wow. I can’t believe Albert noticed all this.

  “Okay,” Keisha asks. “Do you name everyone like that?”

  “I like analogies. They interest me and help me understand.”

  “What about me? Did you have a nickname for me?”

  He hesitates.

  “Okay, Professor. Spill it,” Keisha says.

  He bites his lip.

  “Listen. You better tell me and tell me now.”

  “The Baby.”

  “What? The Baby? Are you kidding me? She gets a great name like the Flying Tiger and you called me the Baby? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

  He turns red. “I didn’t want to offend you.”

  “Well, it’s just a little too late for that. I’m going to send you into space. Where no man has gone before. No kidding.”

  Is Keisha quoting Star Trek now? The girl has lost her mind!

  “I called you the Baby because when you’re quiet, you’re taking everything in. But when you want something, you’re loud about it and usually get your way pretty fast.”

  I burst out laughing. “Oh, man, Keisha. That is just too perfect.”

  She folds her arms with a bit of a “humpf” but then begins to laugh, too.

  “Albert, do you have one for yourself?” I ask.