The little warm spot against my chest exploded. "Yes, yes,
yes!" Serena chittered, squirming and writhing up my shirt till
she popped out the collar of my jacket. "Deena doesn't hate
you!" She scrambled from shoulder to shoulder across the back
of my neck, her tail fluffing out to whap me first on one ear
then the next.
Mr. Schwarber was staring at this, let me tell you, and I
did some scrambling of my own for something--anything!--that
might sound even slightly reasonable. "I...I'm still training
her," was all I came up with. Bringing a hand to my shoulder, I
then asked in animal talk, "Serena? Can you please be very,
very polite for the next bunch of minutes and sit quietly on my
hand? Can you do that?"
She grabbed several pawfuls of hair and scurried to stand
on top of my head. "I can do anything!" she announced.
"Because I will be making you live happily ever after!"
"Serena?" I said again. "My hand? Please?"
And even with everything I'd been through the last 24
hours, keeping my voice steady when I switched over to human
speech was about as hard a thing as I'd done, especially since
the only thing I could think to say hit too damn close to things
I'd been doing my best not to think about ever since El Brujo
had first sauntered into my room at Chrysalis House all those
years ago and asked me in words I could understand if I was
comfortable: "Some animals are easier to train than others."
He nodded. "I don't think I've ever even heard of a
trained squirrel."
I shrugged. "You go with what's available. And it's not
like I've got anything else to keep me busy. Serena?" I'd
meant to say her name in animal talk, but I'd never really
mastered moving quickly from one form of communication to the
other. With a swallow and some concentration, though, I got my
brain to toggle over. "Serena?"
"I am dancing as the butterflies dance!" she was shouting,
tiny paws scampering around in my hair.
Heart pounding, I tried to think of something I could say
to her, something that would let me get back to the question
burning through me, but I couldn't focus, couldn't dredge up a
calmness I didn't remotely feel. All I could think was to start
shouting, and I knew that would be the worst thing in the
world, would only--!
"Serena?" El Brujo's voice from my lap had either a slight
purr in it or a slight growl: I couldn't tell which. "Are you
forgetting how nervous and angry humans like Mr. Schwarber get
when they see squirrels in places they don't think squirrels
ought to be? Like in their gardens? Or their bird feeders? Or
dancing on another human's head?"
The scampering steps froze. "Of course!" she cried, and I
felt the weight of her jump from my head to my shoulder.
"Humans are always so skittish!" She moved to my hand, and with
a whoosh of breath, I lowered her into my legs.
A little smile pulled at Mr. Schwarber's lips. "That'd
make a great TV show, y'know." He raised a hand, swept it
through the air. "The Squirrel Whisperer."
I laughed, but I was shaking so hard, it came out sounding
more like I was trying to clear my throat. Thoughts flew
furiously through my head; I swore I could feel my hair standing
up from the static electricity, and it took another few seconds
of concentration to line up some semi-coherent words: "Then...if
you didn't come to punch me in the nose for scaring Deena,
why...why did you...why are you...?"
His smile got bigger. "After I coaxed her out of her room
and got the story from her, she was so mortified that she'd run
away and left you sitting out on the sidewalk, so tried to
convince me we should change our names, sell our new house, move
to another town, and try to start over again."
My pounding heart almost skipped a beat, fear warring with
shame inside me: fear that she really would vanish from my life
forever and shame that I'd caused her so much grief. "She...she
said that?"
He cocked his head. "You haven't known her long, Gus, but
I'm sure you've already noticed that she gets a little carried
away sometimes."
I had no idea how to respond to that, so I didn't. Which
was OK since he was going on: "I convinced her it'd be easier on
our bank account if she just apologized to you, and--"
"What??" I jerked bolt upright in my wheelchair. "No!
I should apologize to her for--!"
"Gus?" He held up a hand, palm toward me. "You didn't do
anything wrong."
"But I did! You weren't there! You didn't see me--!"
"What?" He folded his arms. "You make a move on her or
something?"
"No!" And never in my life before or since have I come
closer to blurting out the truth about this disease that was
pretzeling my nervous system and also letting me speak to and
understand animals. I didn't, though, because I realized right
then what I was really so upset about. "I did this stupid
little trick to try and impress her, and it just upset her
instead!" I couldn't stop my hands from flailing. "I knew it
was stupid when I did it, and I still went ahead and--!"
"Gus?" Mr. Schwarber dropped into a crouch in front of me,
caught my hands, looked straight across into my eyes, the
contact slapping me like a bucket of cold water. "I said it
before, and I'll say it again: you're a good guy. Deena thinks
so, too. And that's why I'm here."
I knew my mouth was hanging open, but I couldn't quite
remember how to close it. "So," he said, letting my hands go
and giving a purring El Brujo a scritch between her ears.
"Deena's hoping you'll be willing to give her another chance,
would be willing to let her apologize and try the whole 'saying
good night' thing again. If it's not too late at night, I
mean."
The spinning of my thoughts swirled into Serena's butterfly
dance, the warmth of a perfect summer day bursting into being in
my chest. "OK," I managed to get out.
What happens next? Find out in 38!
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