Hummingbird: Chapters 16–23

Grace Cho was wearing a glorious set of wicker wings full of tiny holes that let the light shine through.

“You are missing a riveting game of dodgeball!”

I brought you something to commemorate this partnership.

“Did you know hummingbirds like people?” I asked. “Not just the magical bird. But even regular hummingbirds. They’re infatuated with humans. They can memorize certain faces. And it’s possible to train a hummingbird to eat out of your hand.”

Grace stood beside me in solidarity.

“This used to be the school aviary,” Grace said. “Years ago, when the school first started, they kept all sorts of birds here. Which is how some people think all the birds came to Wildwood.”

And perched happily on the ladders, I noticed several birds: a tiny sparrow, a cockatoo, a hawk, and a cardinal.

Long tables and funky couches were scattered around each level for students.

She looked like a sophisticated ballerina shelving books, swirling, spinning, skirt floating around her like a pale yellow cloud.

She wore a special green vest just like the other volunteers, minus the generic name tag.

Edna’s name was embroidered in rainbow pom-poms on the side of her vest.

The library-llama kneeled down quietly on the floor and rested her soft head in my lap. When I rested my hand on her fuzzy head, a warm, blissful peace overwhelmed me.

“October brought the first blue moon in years to the Cumberland Plateau. And with it came swirls of strange white feathery sleet.”

My favorite family group belongs to starlings; they’re called a murmuration when they fly all together.

“Oh wow,” said Grace. “There’s a dude on that van.”
“That’s my dad!” I said when my eyes settled on the sight that held us all enraptured.

I pulled my heart shades down over my eyes and waited as patiently as possible, despite my impending quest.

So I didn’t tell the full truth there. I still wasn’t quite ready to disclose my own wish to Mama and Jupiter.

Jupiter blared his Bob Marley music, singing along.

If we happened to look over, he’d wave like this was perfectly normal, while all the cars backed up behind him honked like a gaggle of geese.

When I was little, Mama and I did a science project about static electricity. I rubbed a balloon all over the crown of my head and then picked it up and felt it, that invisible force that tethered me to a balloon.

“I like that he’s not subtle,” I said as we made our way to the front door. “I appreciate a person who gets to the point.”

With a resigned sigh, Luther opened the door wide enough for us to move inside.

My brother’s always trying to steal my Dungeons and Dragons set. It’s vintage! All original pieces.

We heard that man holler, ‘I’ll find that bird if it’s the last thing I do.’ He was getting real, real hostile, see.

I reckon the bird likes folk music.

Jupiter was already waiting outside Luther’s to take me home, so Grace and I didn’t have time to debrief.

Also, I still had a hard time believing the woods were the place where fear and wonder both collide. I guess that was a harder point to argue, and Luther did make lots of good points about them. They’ve just never been fearful at all for me. Not even when I was little and Grandpa and I went searching for rememory birds in the shadow thickets.

Even if she pelted us with apples, we had to try.

“But we have to find Nester Tuberose. I know she’s reclusive. I know she’ll pelt us with apples. But we gotta talk to her.”

She passed me her second piece, which I promptly devoured.

I didn’t elaborate and tell him my sleepover required way more than just a few things.

I’ve written to her fifteen times in the last two years begging her to be my mentor. She also doesn’t correspond.

It was intuition—my gut—telling me somebody was listening again.

“Seriously! It’s like the universe just tosses cool and weird trinkets at me, and I’m supposed to give them away.”
“I do love tacky beach junk,” I admitted.

That night, what I saw in Hatch Malone’s eyes was sheer sadness.

He pushed the door open but stood firmly at the threshold, as if crossing over would spin him into some parallel girly universe from which he could never return.

“Exactly, it’s mold,” First Maddie told us, hands on her hips from the stage. “My dad is the mayor and he’s also a meteorologist. He knows things.”

The flutters went wild inside me, like a bonafide butterfly jamboree was happening in my stomach...and then I forgot my lines.

“I’m sorry,” I said earnestly to Dylan.

“Sure do. She’s kin! You know my sister, Jessie, right? Plays the piano at church? We’re Nester’s favorite aunts. She’s our oldest niece. I’d say we know her quite well.”