Birdie For Now Page 3

  He looked at his feet. No socks to pull up. And he was out of Grade Two, maybe even going into Grade Four. Mum had not got his school class settled yet.

  Where were the dog-training kids? He stared at his digital watch. It was time. His feet jiggled up and down, up and down, but his eyes never shifted from the windowpane.

  Finally, the tall lady he had seen two days before arrived. She set up a card table and put out some papers. Then she, too, waited. At last, a car pulled up and two kids, two dogs and a parent got out. They disappeared into the building. Then the girls came out to the field, leaving the adult inside to register and pay, Dickon supposed.

  “Over here, girls,” Leslie Hawkin called to them.

  Good. He could hear every word. Wrestling the window wide open had been worth it.

  “I’m Leslie Hawkin,” she said. “Now who are you two?”

  One girl looked wild and the other tame. The wild one had black curly hair that looked as though it would defeat the toughest brush. Her skin was a warm brown and her shorts were a blinding orange. Her T-shirt had sunflowers all over it. A dog — part terrier, part something else — bounced around her, almost knocking her off her feet.

  The tame girl was shorter with long brown hair. She had pink cheeks and wore white shorts, a pale pink T-shirt and glasses. They both had runners on, but the wild girl had no socks and the tame one’s socks just matched her shirt. Her dog was a tiny Manchester terrier.

  “I’m Kristin Shortreed,” she said. “I’m eleven.”

  “Almost eleven. Her birthday’s next Friday,” the wild one put in. “I’m Jody Parr and I’ve been eleven for a month.”

  Their dogs were prancing around like cartoon animals. Leslie frowned.

  “Cut it out, Poppet. Settle down,” Jody yelled at her pup. “Sit. I said SIT!”

  “She won’t, Jody,” the other girl told her in a prissy voice. “Watch Hercules. Sit, Hercules.”

  Hercules sat for a split second. Then he sprang up and jumped to lick her hand. His giant name was a joke.

  Dickon started to laugh but hushed so he could hear more.

  “So he sits. So what? You can’t make him stay sitting, Kristin, can you? Admit it. And he never comes when he’s called,” Jody said, shoving hard on Poppet’s rump. “Poppet almost always comes.”

  “Enough already,” said the teacher. “I need to make a list of your names, your dogs’ names and where I can reach you.”

  Others were coming outside. A thirteen-year-old boy called Trevor with a golden retriever had arrived while they were arguing. His dog’s name was Taffy.

  “If they did what we told them, we wouldn’t be here,” he said as the girls started up their argument again. “My mum says if Taffy doesn’t smarten up, she’s going to give her to my cousins in the country.”

  “Aw, Trevor, that’s awful,” Kristin said. “My mum gets mad at Hercules, but really she likes him better than she likes us kids. He trails after her all day, and whenever she sits down, he’s up on her lap in one flying leap.”

  Other children came. They had to open and shut a gate to get into the fenced-in area. It wasn’t so simple with their dogs bouncing around their feet. Every single kid had a dog on a leash. Some were half-grown puppies, but some looked adult. One was humungous! A couple of the others were big, but not like that one.

  Not one was well behaved. They pulled ahead or dragged behind, scratched themselves, jumped up on people or tried to pick fights.

  Dickon ran into the kitchen and took down his mother’s birdwatching binoculars. She had not yet used them here, but she had hung them carefully on a hook by the kitchen window.

  “This,” he murmured, raising them to his eyes, “is a special occasion.”

  Every face sprang up, clear and sharp, before him. He could lip-read much better.

  Two new girls appeared. Sylvia had a dog called Pippin. Dickon did not know what breed it was, but he liked it.

  “My dog is named Brisbane,” said the other girl. “And I’m Maria Sanchez.”

  Brisbane was a chunky yellow Lab. Maria’s hair hung in long, skinny braids and her smile was wide.

  Taffy began running around Trevor’s legs in circles, and all at once she dashed over to sniff Jody’s dog. The boy’s knees buckled and a friendly free-for-all broke out.

  Leslie Hawkin jumped up and sorted out dogs and owners, calling every sinner by name. The animals, even the monster whose name was Tallboy, hung their heads like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

  Dickon shook with silent laughter. Twice he put down the binoculars and jigged up and down in excitement. Two more children arrived, Jake Chang with a Boston bull terrier and Chico whose last name Dickon did not catch. He had a beautiful German shepherd named Fancy.

  Last of all came a smallish girl with a big frown on her face. Her dog seemed better behaved than most, but Dickon could tell he was longing to bounce higher than any of them.

  “And whom have we here?” Leslie asked, smiling.

  The girl stood straight as a soldier. Just before she spoke, Dickon guessed her secret. She was sure nobody would like her. He knew how that felt. But why was she so certain she would be an outsider?

  “I’m Jenny English,” she said in a very English voice. “And my dog’s name is Copperkins, but I call him Perkins. He’s a soft-coated Wheaton terrier. He’s my birthday present. We got him a month ago, just after we moved here from London. I’m twelve.”

  “He’s lovely, Jenny,” Leslie said, smiling at her. “He looks so well cared for. And happy.”

  “Yes,” the girl said. Then she ducked her head and muttered, “We took him to the groomer yesterday.”

  “He’s neat,” Jody said, grinning at her. “When mine comes home from the groomer, he still looks like a floor mop.”

  “Pippin is supposed to be part Wheaton,” Sylvia said. “I got her from the Humane Society in Toronto.”

  Dickon lost sight of them in the crowd then, but not before he saw Jenny give Pippin a measuring look. Jody grinned at her again. And just before Daniel cut off his view he saw Jenny relax a bit and smile shyly back at the wild girl.

  Then the teacher walked into the field and blew a loud blast on a whistle. All the dogs, big and small, cocked their heads at the sharp sound.

  “Pay attention, everyone. The first class is now starting. Get your dogs and back up until you are spread out in a big circle. Shorten those leashes until the animals cannot get close to each other. Trevor, give Taffy a sharp jerk and tell her ‘NO!’”

  Trevor jerked on the leash and Taffy wagged her tail happily. She was not going to obey him.

  Dickon leaned forward so far that he slid onto the floor, landing with a flump. He kept his hold on the binoculars somehow. Sighing with relief, he picked himself up.

  He climbed onto the bed again and went on watching. His body ached to bounce up and down a few times. His mattress was great for bouncing. But if he did, he might miss something.

  Another boy came racing around the building, letting the gate clang shut behind him. His dog was a tri-colored, lop-eared collie. The boy was breathless and red in the face, but the collie looked calm and dignified.

  “Hi, Ruff,” Jody called. “Hi, Andy.”

  Ruff looked down her noble nose as though the others were mere babies and she was the only adult.

  “Sorry I’m late. I’m Anthony Blake,” the newcomer said. “I got held up …”

  “After today, I want you all here on time,” the teacher announced. “We must concentrate if we want to make a difference in four weeks. Latecomers will distract the dogs. We’ll have a break at two-thirty. We can chat then.”

  The children were in their circle now. The huge dog was lying down and Daniel, his master, was doing his best to yank him up again. Leslie walked over. Dickon missed seeing what she did, but all at once the gangling dog was sitting up with a startled look on his face.

  “You have to be firm, Daniel. Tallboy won’t understand sweet
talk. You have to show him you mean business.”

  “Yes, Leslie, I know. But he just …”

  “No excuses. If you aren’t ready to learn, take Tallboy and go on home,” Leslie said. “He’s big, of course, but you are smarter and he is wearing a choke chain. He’s young, too, and has not been taught bad habits.”

  She returned to her spot. The whistle blew another sharp blast.

  Dickon set the heavy binoculars down on the windowsill and shook his fingers.

  “Today we won’t have time for a whole class,” Leslie said. “I just want to meet you all and check that you have choke chain collars for your dogs.”

  “I don’t want to choke Hercules,” Kristin protested. “He’s so little and he shouldn’t be hurt.”

  “Me neither,” murmured Maria.

  Leslie went over and put a choke collar on Kristin’s arm.

  “If you put it on properly, it won’t really choke your dog. It’ll just get his attention. Then you loosen your tug. Like this.”

  She jerked the leash. Kristin’s mouth opened. Before she could speak, the leash fell slack.

  “Oh,” she said, looking down at her arm. There was no mark.

  Dickon especially liked Kristin and Jody. Kristin looked calm and friendly, and Jody seemed exciting. Friendly too, but differently. He liked Jenny too. He could tell she was feeling shy. He saw Jody speak to her. She must have made a joke. Jenny glanced nervously at Leslie and then smiled back.

  Dickon’s throat ached with his yearning to run out and leap into the ring of kids with a dog of his very own. He would instantly belong. It wouldn’t matter that the others were older and taller. Everybody in the world was bigger than Birdie Fielding. Except Jenny maybe.

  A shriek made Dickon snap to attention.

  Taffy had pulled loose and was running away. Dickon looked to where she was heading and saw the hole in the fence. It was low and not huge, but a dog could wriggle through it. And it led right into Dickon’s yard.

  “Gotcha!” Trevor caught hold of his dog’s tail. Taffy sat down and allowed him to pick up her leash.

  Twenty minutes later, all the children were handed juice boxes and the dogs were given water. Then, in no time at all, it was over. Everyone left. Dickon, watching them go, was making a plan.

  Tomorrow, before the kids came, he would wiggle through the hole in the fence. He was sure that he would fit. Then he would hang around, at the edge, quiet and interested. He would not fidget or yell. He would take his pill last thing. He’d be a shadow of a boy. If he did it just right, Leslie Hawkin had to let him stay. Jody would take his part for sure. He curled up and began a daydream in which he got a dog, a beautiful big one with brown eyes filled with love. His dog was obedient right away.

  “I’m Dickon Bird”

  The slam of a car door woke him. He leaped up and zoomed into the hall.

  “Hi, Mum,” he said, suddenly pleased to see her.

  “Hi yourself, my sweet Birdie,” she said, dumping groceries onto the kitchen table and hugging him. “Did you think I was never coming?”

  “No,” he said, surprised. Then he stole a look at his watch. Five-forty-five. She had said she would be home by five at the latest.

  “I knew you’d call if something was wrong,” he said.

  He was in luck. She was so taken up with her first full day at her new job that she forgot to quiz him about what he’d done all day.

  “So what’s new, Chickabid?” she asked finally through a yawn.

  He told her he’d watched TV and had lunch and worked on his Lego.

  “Kids came to a dog class at the Humane Society,” he threw in, casually.

  “Oh, baby, they want me to work late for the first two weeks,” she burst out, not hearing what he said. She launched into the story of her day. It sounded dull to him, but clearly she had found it a great challenge.

  “Wow,” he murmured, realizing she had paused for him to react. “Wow” should be safe.

  At last she got up and started making their supper.

  They had almost finished eating before Dickon realized that his mother was feeling guilty because she was going to be late coming home for a while.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, keeping his voice steady, hiding his relief.

  “But I hate leaving you alone,” she began.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, slugging down the milk she had poured. “I was okay today, wasn’t I?”

  “It might be against the law,” she said. “I’ll ask Mrs. Nelson to watch out for you. And I’ll check in at noon. You’re pretty sensible.”

  “I’m TOTALLY sensible,” he said.

  A dog barked shrilly. Another answered. His mother frowned.

  “I wish we were not so close to that place,” she said. “If one of those strays got loose and attacked you …”

  “Really, Mum, you’ve been watching too much violent TV,” he teased.

  His voice must have sounded funny. She stared at him. He shifted his feet and balled his hands into fists. If only something would distract her!

  The phone rang.

  What a relief! She was soon chattering with someone from work. He parked himself in front of the TV. Although she always said he watched too much television, he knew she relaxed when she heard it go on. After all, her darling was safe in front of the tube. Ha!

  Wednesday morning crawled by. He visited Mrs. Nelson and Charlie. She was giving the tiny hedgehog a bath in the basin. Dickon watched in fascination.

  Charlie kept trying to escape. As she scrambled up the enamel sides of the basin and slipped back, her under-side grew beautifully clean. Mrs. Nelson laughed gently at her, but Dickon could see she was sympathetic.

  By noon, he was at home waiting for his mother’s check-up call. But she did not phone until after twelve-thirty. Then she chatted.

  So he was later than he planned.

  He slipped across the patch of grass that was his own yard and inspected the hole under the fence. The gap was big enough. Without taking time to look around, Dickon flung himself flat, prized up the wire and rolled under as far as he could. The left leg of his jeans snagged on a bit of metal. He pulled the denim loose and tried again. Wow! He had done it. Then feet thudded across the grass.

  “Well, well, Kris, what have we here?” Jody’s voice said from right above him.

  Dickon blushed scarlet. Where had she come from? A dog’s nose poked against his cheek. He rolled over and sat up.

  Kristin giggled. “No, Hercules. Don’t eat him alive.”

  “It’s an alien,” Jody said. “Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

  He was rattled.

  “Birdie …” he started. Then, trying to fix it, he got out, “I mean, Dickon.”

  “Why did you say ‘Bird’?” Jody asked.

  Dickon thought fast. “It’s my last name. I’m Dickon Bird,” he said.

  Nobody would believe that. His ears burned.

  “Dickon Bird. How cute,” Jody said, letting his blush pass.

  Dickon opened his mouth and shut it again. The girls were introducing him to Poppet and Hercules. Other kids were coming over. Somehow the words he meant to say did not come out. Why were they all here early? He looked at his watch. One-thirty. They weren’t early at all.

  Then it dawned on him that if they did not know his real name they couldn’t tell his mother he had been over here. Maybe it was safer to go on being Dickon Bird.

  “All right, class,” Leslie Hawkin called. “Time to start. Who, pray tell, might you be, young man?”

  “His name’s Dickon Bird,” Kristin said with a small snort of laughter.

  “Could I watch?” Dickon began, doing his best to appear responsible and quiet.

  “I’m sorry but we don’t let anyone watch who isn’t signed up,” the teacher said briskly. “You would be distracting to the dogs.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Dickon burst out. “Please, let me. I wouldn’t …”

  “Run along home,” she said sharply
. No touch of warmth sounded in her voice now. “The class is too large as it is, and I’ve already told you …”

  At that exact moment a newcomer burst upon the scene.

  Andy had left the gate open. A small black-and-white dog came flying through the space. One minute she was not there and the next she had dashed in among them, her dangling leash sailing through the air after her.

  She was half Poppet’s size. She might be no bigger than Hercules, but she had a silky coat that rippled in the breeze. She had a black patch over each eye with a white part coming down between. And she had incredible ears. They were black, too, and tall, shaped like butterfly wings. Her feathery tail curled up over her back one minute, streamed out behind her the next and, finally, tucked itself out of sight between her legs. To Dickon, that tail shouted, “I want to be friends … I’m running away … I’m afraid.” He understood the little dog completely.

  “Hello,” he whispered and dropped down on one knee.

  His words drew her. Her small, dainty face lifted and her pleading eyes looked right into his. Perhaps she chose him because he was the only child without a dog. In any case, she ran straight into his arms and cowered against him, whimpering.

  “Who on earth …?” Leslie started.

  Then, a man shaped like an armored truck came charging around the building, bellowing, “Get back here, you birdbrain. NOW!”

  Dickon stiffened, glaring, but the man did not notice.

  “Catch that mutt,” he roared. “Blast her, she’s nothing but trouble.”

  Dickon’s arms tightened around the small creature. He rose with her in his arms, the leash dangling. Then he stood still, not speaking to the man but whispering comforting words to the frightened dog he held.

  “Easy, girl,” he said in a shaking voice. “Don’t be scared.”

  Her huge, feathery ears brushed his cheek. They were the softest things he had ever felt. Like the butterfly kisses his mother used to give him with her eyelashes. The dog’s golden brown eyes begged him for help.