First Came the Owl (3 page)

Dad gave her another hug, but she could hardly hug him back. Headlights swept the lawn in front of the lighthouse. “Here they are. Get your toothbrush.”

Nita hurried into her bedroom and threw some stuff in her duffel bag. Pajamas. Her old stuffed cat. Her school bag and her special pen with a tiny
Mayflower
that sailed back and forth in a capsule of fluid. She put on her earmuffs.

As she went to the front door, she looked back and saw Dad sitting on the edge of Mom's bed. He sat very still, and he didn't turn his head to see Nita leave. She made her way down the path by the flashing lighthouse beam that made things look white and then dark, white and then dark.

Anne gave Nita a scared look when she got into the warm car, but Anne's mother just acted normal.

“Get your skates,” said Mrs. S. “Our pond is perfect at the moment, and we're going to go skating by moonlight.”

“Tonight?” said Anne and Nita at the same moment.

“Tonight.”

Nita smiled thankfully at the back of Mrs. Stillwater's head. She climbed out of the car, went up the slippery path again, and took her skates off the hook by the entryway. She took a last look at her parents through the little window beside the inside door. They hadn't moved.

In the car, Anne bounced on the seat. “Night skating!” she said.

Four

P
ONDS DIDN'T STAY
frozen very long in Maushope's Landing, and tonight there was a moon, but it was also a school night, and even the lively Stillwaters didn't usually let you go out then.

The car went over the hill to High Street. “I'll be right back with some cocoa,” said Mrs. S. She went into the house.

“I didn't even know we were going,” said Anne. “I think she just thought of it to cheer you up.” They got Anne's skates from the bench in her front hall and went back outside.

The moon was out, riding across the sky behind tattered shreds of cloud. The white blanket of snow in the yard glittered in the moonlight.

When the girls slid down to the pond in back of the house, they saw that the ice was perfect, glassy and smooth. The moon was so bright they could even see the leaves and twigs frozen under the black ice and the moon's reflected light, as if the pond were a mirror.

Nita sat on a log and laced up her skates, then stuffed her hands quickly back into her mittens. She stumbled out onto the ice. “I've forgotten how,” she called. She slipped and came down on her hands, but after she got up it began to get easier. She made it all around the edge of the pond and back to Anne, ducking under branches that stuck out over the ice.

“Be my partner,” said Anne. They crossed their arms and skated together like performers.

Mrs. Stillwater came down and put the thermos near their shoes by the log. Then she glided onto the ice. She was really good—she could skate backward and twirl.

Around and around they went until Nita felt warm all over. The frozen pond and the moon were cold and beautiful, chilling and exciting at the same time.

“You'll see,” said Mrs. S., as she pushed Nita by the arms to help her learn to skate backward. “Your mother will get better. It's as if your Mom has fallen through the ice, but she'll be rescued in time, I really believe that. I know her doctor, she's a good doctor.”

Nita couldn't answer. It was the first time anyone but Dad had ever talked to her about Mom. It felt embarrassing but good, good to be out of the lonely house by the lighthouse, where Mom and Dad kept getting quieter and quieter. The Stillwaters would never let someone they cared about slip away under the ice.

“Look! You're skating backward!” called Anne. It was true. Mrs. Stillwater had let go of Nita's hands, and she was carving out long backward glides.

“Oh, I can't do it when I think about it,” said Nita, as her feet automatically started forward again. I wonder if Mom can skate, she thought, but there was probably never any ice in Thailand. Mom probably never had this wonderful flying feeling. Nita skated faster and faster, until she thought she might fly up into the air, right off the ice.

“Cocoa,” called Mrs. S. Nita scraped to a stop by the log, breathless and almost dizzy. The hot cup warmed her hands. “You girls have to get to bed,” Anne's mother went on.

But Nita sipped her cocoa slowly. She wanted to stay out as long as possible. Out here, everything seemed simpler. The black branches of the trees in the moonlight and the icy pond had been the same every winter for ten thousand years, maybe. It made Nita feel better to think that, though she wasn't sure why.

“Do fish get frozen?” asked Anne.

“No,” said Nita. She put down her cup and started to unlace her skates. “Dad goes ice fishing sometimes. He says fish slow way down and lie in the water at the bottom of the pond.”

“Girls,” said Mrs. S. She picked up her skates and the thermos.

“We're coming,” they answered, and started up the slope. The house up above them had lights in the windows, and as they walked toward the warm, yellow glow, a blast of sound came from an attic window.

“What's
that
?” Nita slipped on the path, startled.

“Petrova is playing her whale songs.” The weird moaning and clicking echoed out over the frozen woods.

“Weird,” said Nita.

“You mean unusual—that's what Mom says. We don't call people ‘weird,' just ‘unusual.' Listen! Now she's playing her very unusual owl recordings. That's why the window is open, so the owls can hear.”

Screeches came from the window and Nita shivered. It was a creepy sound.

It was warm in the house and Anne's room had a chair that folded out into a bed for Nita. She put her stuffed cat under the covers and felt safer. When she was in bed, she could see the moon out the window and her skating feeling came back for a minute. She remembered the flying feeling and the world of black trees and ice that had been there, well,
almost
forever.

Mr. Stillwater came to the door. “Hi, Nita,” he said. “If you need any help with your math, don't hesitate to ask.” His mouth twitched in a little smile, as if he knew Anne complained about his “help.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stillwater,” said Nita.

“Oh, call me Bill,” he said. “Good night, girls.” He shut the door.

Nita sank back on her pillows. Bill? I don't think I could call him that out loud, she thought. Screeches and moans sounded very faintly from the attic. Nita eyed the moon and wondered if her Mom was looking out the window of wherever she was, watching the moon, too.

“Good night, Mom,” she whispered.

Five

T
HE NEXT DAY
after school Nita headed out of town, down by the beach. She didn't even look at her house; she was going to Amy Bradley's to talk about the play.

And she was going to stay overnight at Anne's again. Dad said he was staying at the Coast Guard base because the next day he might have to go out on one of the boats. Why does he have to leave when Mom's in the hospital? thought Nita. Even though he always goes to sea, now I do
not
want him to. Not, not, not.

Even school wasn't as safe as usual, because Mrs. Sommers kept asking her about that report. She still didn't know what to write about.

Nita kicked a couple of stones along the edge of the beach, and kept her head down so she wouldn't see the lighthouse. Icy little waves lapped the shore. She was supposed to meet Anne at Amy's house to talk about the play. Anne had been to her piano lesson, and Nita had stayed after school to help Mrs. Sommers clean the guinea pig cage.

And then, all of a sudden, Nita saw it again. Just what she had seen yesterday on the way to school. The white patch of snow flew up in the air again, and this time it didn't vanish. It wasn't snow, it really was a bird, just as she had thought.

Nita caught her breath. It was there. A huge white bird, an …
owl,
staring back at her from a low sand dune. The round, unblinking yellow eyes bored into her brain, until Nita squeezed her own eyes shut for just a second. Even then, yellow spots danced on the insides of her eyelids. She stared again, trying to get used to the amazing sight.

Her heart thumped. Would the owl hurt her? It seemed so beautiful, so calm and unafraid, but she could see its huge curved talons clutching the dune grass. Wind ruffled the snowy feathers. The owl didn't seem cold; it seemed completely at home in this icy setting. Nita wished she could feel at home like that, comfortable on an icy sand dune, not needing anything.

Far away, she heard the sound of a truck. The owl's head swiveled, and as the truck came closer, the big bird spread its wide white wings. Nita gasped. With a flap of its wings and a shake of suddenly appearing feathery legs, the owl was carried down the beach by the wind, soared low over the edge of the water, and vanished around the rocky point.

That owl was as big as a … as a … fire hydrant, she thought as she passed one at the edge of the road. I'll tell Petrova! She'll be so excited! Didn't Anne say Petrova had been going all the way to the airport to band owls, and now here was one right here in town!

She turned into the Bradleys' driveway. The world looked different. The wintry sky was owl-colored, and the bright-brass knocker on Amy's front door gleamed like the owl's yellow eyes. Then Nita banged on the door and the spell was broken.

Amy's house was full of dogs and little boys. Anne was already there, and Nita was caught in a whirlwind of action. There was no way to tell anyone about the owl.

Finally, the girls shut themselves in Amy's room for a play conference. Her room was crowded with projects—knitting, drawing, and play costumes. On the wall was a blown-up photograph of a green iguana, which at that size looked like a dragon.

“Guess what?” asked Nita.

“You want to be in the play,” said Amy.

“Yes, but guess what I saw?”

Amy finally gave Nita her full attention. Her big brown eyes looked out from her wild hair and focused on Nita. “What did you see?”

“A huge white owl! On the beach.”

“A snowy owl?” asked Anne.

“Is that what they're called? I can't wait to tell Petrova.”

Amy reached for her book of
Snow White.
“Wait a second,” she said. “I think … yeah, listen. I thought I remembered there's an owl in this story! The story goes: ‘And the birds of the air came too, and bemoaned Snow White: first of all came an owl.…'”

“I wonder…” said Nita, but then she didn't speak her chilling thought aloud. I wonder if
my
owl came because of my Mom. Maybe it came to bemoan
her,
to cry for her, because she was lying so still and not talking, as if Mom were Snow White in her glass coffin. Maybe it came to
get
her. Maybe it means she's going to die.

Nita felt tears prickle her eyelids. “Where's the bathroom?” she muttered. Amy pointed down the hall, and Nita held her breath until she was safely behind the closed bathroom door.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her brown face was smooth, her eyes dark. Her bangs parted a little in the middle, as if the wind had blown them apart. She was sad, confused, and scared, and it didn't even show on her face, like it would on, say, Amy's face, with her flushed pink cheeks and wild hair.

Mom was the same way. You could only tell she was upset when she got even quieter than usual. Were people from Thailand always like that? But even if they are always like that, I am only half Thai, thought Nita. I hardly even remember Thailand. Furiously, she messed up half her hair and stuck out her tongue at the mirror, but her silky hair slid back into place, and, after a few seconds, she slid her tongue in, too. She felt silly. Silly, but at least she didn't feel like crying anymore.

And maybe the owl was good. It would bemoan Mom and then she'd get better! Nita remembered the great feeling she had when she saw that huge, snowy bird. As if she were special to have it come near her and look at her with those yellow eyes.

“Nita!” Anne called to her from outside the bathroom door. “Come on, we've got to talk about the parts.”

Nita opened the bathroom door. She felt much better, and it was the thought of the wild, free bird that had done it.

“I absolutely want to be a dwarf,” said Anne. “I mean, if you pick me. I love to dance and sing.”

“What about you, Nita?” asked Amy. She wrote on her clipboard.

“Well,” said Nita, “I don't want to be a dwarf.” Then she surprised herself. “I want to be—Snow White!”

The words came out as if some new person were speaking them.

Anne bounced up on the bed in surprise. “You
do?
” she said.

“Yes,” she said, a bit more firmly, still wondering why. Nothing had happened that was different except the owl. The owl. It had something to do with the owl, and something to do with Mom, and a new feeling that was growing inside her.

Amy gave Nita a considering look. “You'd be a good Snow White,” said Amy. “I'll put you down on my list.” Then she went back to writing on her clipboard.

“Amy!” came a voice from downstairs. “I need your help, and Anne's mom is here for her and Nita.”

The girls thundered down the stairs. There was a flurry of dogs, boys, and good-byes.

Then Anne and Nita were outside for a freezing minute until they got in the warm car.

“Guess what, Mom?” said Anne. “Nita's going to try out for Snow White!”

The old Nita slouched way down in her seat, wishing she'd never said she would do anything so scary.

Six

A
T THE STILLWATERS
', they found Petrova in the kitchen, bent over her homework. “Want some popcorn?” she said, in a friendly enough way so that Nita didn't feel too nervous to talk to her. The warm smell filled the kitchen and Nita slid onto the bench across from Anne's fourteen-year-old sister.