Caterpillar Summer, page 7
Chicken shuddered a deep breath. “Want shark.”
Lily’s eyebrows bunched in concern. “Macon, he wants his shark! I think it’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Please,” Chicken sobbed. “Let me down.”
“No, sir!” Macon said, still holding him. “We can’t have you running in the water.”
Chicken kicked at Macon, who only gripped him closer. Chicken hated being held so tight.
Cat reached out. “Give him to me.”
Macon hesitated. “He’s too heavy. This is safer.”
Cat’s eyebrows shot up fast. He was the one who let Chicken run into the water, and he thought it wasn’t safe for his own sister to hold him?
“You should have watched him better if you care about what’s safe,” she said. “You’re holding him too tight! He doesn’t like being on his back. I know what he needs.”
Lily stepped forward. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. “Macon, give him to Cat.” Her usually soft voice was lined with something strong.
Macon transferred Chicken to Cat. Cat turned and walked slowly toward the house. She had to be careful she didn’t fall over because Chicken was heavy. That was the one thing Macon was right about.
She paused to readjust Chicken’s arms, which clung to her neck in a way that made breathing difficult. He was so wet, he was harder to hold, and he was somehow heavier.
“Want a shark,” Chicken repeated.
“I know you do,” said Cat. She staggered, but straightened again.
“Not my toy. I want a real one. Cookiecutter sharks like warm water, and this ocean is warm.”
“Oh, Chicken,” said Cat. “You’ll go in when you’re big, when you’ve learned to swim.”
He didn’t argue with her this time, but she thought she heard him mutter something.
She paused to hoist him up again. “What did you say?” she asked.
“Someday I’ll be big,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “But not today.”
She carried him the rest of the way and didn’t set him down until they reached the deck. She grabbed a striped towel.
“Come here,” she said. She patted him dry so he wouldn’t drip. Chicken needed her in a way Macon and Lily couldn’t understand. Sometimes Cat didn’t understand it either. She rubbed his sandy feet.
Chicken gazed over the railing. “What are they talking about?”
Cat looked up from the towel. Macon and Lily were in deep discussion. They stood far enough away that she couldn’t hear them. “Probably talking about us.”
Chicken turned to her with big eyes. “Will they send us away?”
Cat studied them. Lily was talking while Macon mostly nodded.
“I don’t think so,” she answered. “But you can’t run off like that, Chicken, especially in the water. It’s dangerous.”
“Okay,” said Chicken.
She looked at him. He was surprisingly calm for how upset he had been a few moments ago. She needed to make sure he understood how important this was.
“Promise me,” she said.
“I promise,” he said. “No ocean until I’m big.”
The towel had done all it could do, so Cat spread it out on the deck railing to dry. “Let’s find some dry clothes.”
Upstairs, Chicken changed and brought his wet clothes to Cat.
“Read to me?” he asked. He held The Broken Cookie, which came out earlier that year.
“Sure,” said Cat. They climbed onto the window seat and he stretched out next to her. The first few pages were all about Cat and Chicken at the bakery, choosing their cookies. But when they walked outside, Chicken tripped on the sidewalk. His cookie broke. Chicken stomped around the page, angry and crying.
You have a puzzle cookie!
The ending was supposed to be happy, but something about it made Cat stop short. Couldn’t Caterpillar have given Chicken the idea for a puzzle cookie without breaking her own? Cat felt herself getting upset. On one hand, it was a story about cookies. On the other hand, it was much more.
Cat was Chicken’s big sister. She would never complain when Chicken needed her. And sometimes, he did need her. Even though he was safe beside her, it made her shiver to remember his head disappearing under the wave. That was terrible, an emergency.
But a broken cookie was not an emergency. It was a little sad, and that’s all.
And Caterpillar broke her cookie when she didn’t have to! She made things worse for herself on purpose. It didn’t seem right.
“Chicken,” she said. “Why do you think book-Caterpillar solved the problem that way?”
Chicken twirled his fingers. “Because puzzle cookies are funny.”
“Okay,” Cat said. “But Caterpillar could have explained without breaking hers.”
Chicken frowned. “All she wants is for Chicken to be happy. She doesn’t care about the cookie.”
Cat snapped the book shut. “She should care!”
Chicken crossed his arms. “Well, she doesn’t.”
“The cookie isn’t the point. It’s a symbol. The cookie represents all the things Caterpillar gives up to keep Chicken happy.” Cat thought back to the last day of school, when she said no to the Toy Boat with Poppy Zhang. Chicken didn’t know half of what Cat did to make him happy.
Chicken shook his head. “That’s dumb. Symbols are dumb.”
“Sometimes stories are more than the words on the page,” said Cat.
Chicken grabbed the book from her. “That is dumb. If Mama wanted the story to mean something different, she would write it like that. She wouldn’t be tricky.”
He didn’t understand. Cat shook her head in frustration. She heard a light tapping. It was Lily, in the doorway.
“Would either of you like some lemonade?” Lily asked.
“Yes,” said Chicken. He hopped off the window seat and walked out, not looking back.
“Cat?”
“No, thanks,” said Cat. When she heard their feet on the stairs, she shut the door. She needed time by herself.
In the window seat, she made a pillow nest. Arguing with Chicken was pointless. He didn’t understand that a book could be more than one thing. On one level, it was a story about a cookie. But on a deeper level, there was so much more. Caterpillar put herself last all the time, even when she didn’t have to. Cat wasn’t like that. Was she?
Chicken needed so much. He needed someone to watch him, think about him constantly, and keep him safe. To remind him that going into the ocean fully clothed is a bad idea, especially for someone who can’t swim. Sometimes it seemed like Chicken needed more than what Cat and Mom could give. He needed more than the two of them—he needed a crowd.
Cat didn’t need a crowd, but she needed someone. She checked the time. Mom would be teaching, but she could email Rishi.
Rishi,
How’s your grandma doing? I am sorry she had a stroke. I hope she is okay.
What is India like?
We’re in North Carolina with my mom’s parents. Weird, right? I had never met them until this week. Lily is nice. Macon is okay, I guess.
Chicken took off running into the ocean today. (He’s fine.) I haven’t even had a chance to tell you how he ran away on Clement Street before we left San Francisco. He scares me sometimes.
Write me or video chat when you can.
Cat
That night, Chicken fell asleep quickly, but Cat was awake. She curled up in the window seat and read. She was about to turn out the lights when she heard Macon and Lily on the deck below. They sat in the porch swing, which cricked over the sound of the waves. Listening was probably not the right thing to do, but she couldn’t help it.
“Never been so scared—” Macon’s voice rose up.
“It ended up all right—” said Lily, soothing.
“Shouldn’t have turned my back, but he was so interested in the kite—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. He got distracted, that’s all.”
Macon said something back that sounded like: “Don’t know if I have it in me.”
Their voices were low. Cat leaned toward the window, straining her ears.
“It’s like dynamite,” said Macon finally. “I could mess it up and they could go away. It would be all my fault.” The words were choppy, like it hurt to say them.
Lily answered, but her voice was quiet. The porch swing cricked five hundred times before Cat crawled under the covers next to her brother, and it was still cricking when she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
The morning sun woke Cat. Chicken was snoring, and Cat couldn’t get back to sleep. She put on her sweatshirt and went downstairs. She didn’t expect to be invited on a walk, not after yesterday. But there were two mugs on the counter.
“Morning,” Macon said. “All ready to go?”
It was like they’d already decided that they’d walk together. She nodded.
He picked up the blue mug and nodded at the silver. “That’s yours.”
Cat looked at the silver mug, surprised.
“Hot chocolate,” he said. “I thought coffee might stunt your growth.” He turned and headed to the door before she could thank him.
Outside, there was a mist that reminded her of San Francisco fog. She balanced her mug and followed him into the morning. They walked in silence for a while, sipping their hot drinks. Cat’s was creamy and delicious.
Cat squeezed the wet sand with her toes. She wanted to ask Macon more about his morning walks. “So, what made you start looking for the turtles?”
Macon kept walking his fast walk. “I like them. Most of the time they know exactly what they are doing. It’s only when people get in their way that there are problems.”
“What do you mean get in their way?”
“Like your grandmother said, the lights confuse them. Sometimes they get sick from eating trash, especially balloons and plastic. I clean up as I walk.”
“That’s a nice thing to do.”
“Not a big deal, really. Just being there when I can.”
A few steps from the water lay shards of a purple sand shovel. She bent to gather them.
“Half of life is showing up,” Macon said quietly, almost to himself. “And some things are worth showing up for.”
They didn’t say anything for the rest of the walk.
Back at the house, Chicken tore into a stack of pancakes. Macon and Cat took turns washing their hands.
“Caterpillar,” said Chicken, “Lily told me about the library reading program. If you sign up, you get prizes! I am going to read every book they have about sharks.”
“But you probably won’t earn many prizes,” said Cat. “Remember, we won’t be here long.” She bit into a strawberry.
Chicken streamed syrup over his half-eaten pancakes. “I will earn lots of prizes. You’ll see.”
Macon turned to Lily. “Are you planning to take him?”
“I’ll take him,” said Cat. “It’s not far.”
Macon cleared his throat. “After yesterday, I think you should have an adult with you.”
Cat shook her head. “We’re fine! We take the bus all over San Francisco. We can walk a few blocks ourselves.”
Lily looked at Cat, and then she looked at Macon.
“Chicken, get your shoes,” said Cat.
He galloped to the living room. Macon cleared the breakfast dishes. He spoke to Lily in a low voice, frowning.
“I won’t get lost,” said Cat. She looked at Macon’s back. She wanted him to remember yesterday’s mistake. “And I know how to keep him safe.”
Macon stood at the sink, not facing her.
“Go on,” said Lily. “Have fun.”
Macon didn’t say a word.
“Fine,” said Cat. “Bye.” She and Chicken left. Cat let the door close hard behind her.
On the sidewalk, Chicken had a question. “Is Macon mad at us?”
Cat was still irritated. “Of course not,” said Cat sharply. “But he thinks I’m a little kid like you.”
Chicken frowned. “Are you mad?”
“No!” said Cat. “But he should see I’m not a baby.”
“I’m not a baby either,” said Chicken firmly.
Cat gave him a shoulder squeeze. “I know.”
The town was quiet. There were a few souvenir shops, a general store, and an ice cream place called Miss Sunshine’s. A square playground was surrounded by big trees.
“Playground!” said Chicken.
“Library first,” said Cat.
Outside the library were statues of sea creatures, including giant sea turtles and sharks. Kids climbed and jumped on them. Chicken gazed at them longingly.
“Later,” said Cat. “We’ll play after.”
He nodded and they climbed the steps. A sign said Summer Reading Program Kickoff Today. Inside, kids were everywhere.
Someone tapped them on the shoulder. It was a woman with white makeup on her face, a purple wig, and a giant red painted-on grin.
“Aaaaaaah!” said Chicken, hiding behind Cat.
The clown sighed.
“Sorry,” said Cat.
“I’ve been getting that a lot today.” The clown pointed. “Registration for the summer reading program is thataway.”
“Thanks,” said Cat. They went through the glass doors to a room with walls full of murals and tall windows. Shelves were dotted with handwritten librarian recommendations. Throughout the room were displays on different summer-related topics. Chicken gasped when he saw a papier-mâché hammerhead topping an arrangement of shark books.
“I want them all!” he said.
“Let’s get three. Only three.”
Chicken had already stacked a dozen in his arms. When Cat raised her eyebrows he said, “I know, I know. I’m browsing.”
“We’ll sign up and then you can look all you want.”
They gave their names to the librarian behind the desk, who wrote down their information in a big book. She handed them each a paper sea turtle with their names.
Chicken traced his finger along the list of prizes. “I want the mini golf!”
“You want to go mini golfing.”
“Nope,” said Chicken. “It says ‘Mini Golf’ right here.”
Cat decided not to argue. “You better get reading if you want anything.” They found a table by the bulletin board and a bearded librarian shelving books. A bright green flyer on the wall caught Cat’s eye.
Cat read the flyer again. If Rishi were here, he would enter. He would love a contest like this. Maybe she should try it. She didn’t know how to fish, but Mom could teach her. That wasn’t a bad idea at all. She reread the form.
She turned to the librarian. “Excuse me, do you know where I can find the entry for the contest?”
GINGERBREAD ISLAND YOUTH FISHING CONTEST
FUN PRIZES
Kids ages 8–14! Catch all the fish you can between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 p.m. on the Gingerbread Island Fishing Pier Saturday, July 9. This year’s cash prize sponsored by Small Fry Food Truck. Enter at Willis General Store by June 25.
The librarian looked up. “Should be right by the bulletin board. We must have run out.”
“Okay,” said Cat. It was a silly idea anyway.
“Let me see if we have any behind the desk. If not, they should have them over at Willis General.”
The librarian went to check and Cat turned back to the board. It didn’t say how big the cash prize might be. Could it be enough to buy an airplane ticket to visit Rishi later this summer?
Suddenly she heard a wail behind her. She froze. She turned, expecting to see Chicken’s face full of tears.
But instead it was a small boy with dark brown hair and freckles polka-dotting every inch of his pale skin. His face was streaked with blood. He gripped a book but Chicken’s hands were tugging it from his grasp.
As Cat watched, the flow of blood became a small river, making rusty spots on the boy’s shirt.
Cat crossed to them quickly. “Let go of that book,” she said to Chicken. Startled, he took a step back.
The boy clung to the book, which now had blood spots on it, too. Cat grimaced.
She bent down to be at his eye level. “Hey,” she said. “Are you okay? Are you here with your mom or anyone?”
He shook his head and wailed again.
“It’s okay,” Cat tried again. “We’ll help you.”
The boy sobbed. Chicken was quiet.
Cat touched his arm. “Did you hurt him, Chicken?”
Chicken nodded.
Cat gasped. She couldn’t believe it. “You hurt this little boy?”
Chicken nodded again, his eyes filling with tears.
The boy said, “Harriet!” Cat turned to see a girl coming around the corner. She was about Cat’s age, with the same dark hair and freckles as the little boy.
“Neddie,” she said. “What happened?”
Neddie cried and pointed at Chicken. Harriet frowned at Chicken and Cat.
“I’m so sorry,” said Cat. “He would never hurt anyone.”
Harriet looked up from her brother. “Well, obviously that’s not true.”
“On purpose I mean,” Cat said.
Harriet arched her eyebrows. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”
Chicken’s eyes shimmered.
“Does anyone have a tissue?” Harriet asked.
The bearded librarian came back. He held an ice pack and a handful of scratchy paper towels. “Hi there, Neddie, looks like you’ve got yourself a big old nose bleed.”
Neddie took the wad of paper towels and pressed it to his nose.
It was clear that the librarian knew these kids. No one knew Cat and Chicken.
“I’m sorry,” Cat said softly. “We’re really sorry.” Everyone was looking at the boy.
Harriet scrunched a fresh paper towel to his nose. “Pinch it, Neddie.”
They had to get out of there. “Come on, Chicken,” Cat whispered.
“My books,” he whispered back.
He didn’t get it. It wasn’t okay to smack this Neddie kid in the face and then collect his books like nothing had happened. She grabbed his shoulder. “Forget the books—we have to go!”
Cat forced him to walk quickly. They dodged the clown in the lobby, then went outside.
