 
House of Swallows

A Tale of Youth

by

Jack Forge

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 John Stephen Rohde

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment. It may not be re-sold or given to others. If you want to share this book, please buy a copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book but did not buy it, please go to Smashwords.com and buy a copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

Chapters

Chapter 1: Departure

Chapter 2: Arrival

Chapter 3: Houseguests

Chapter 4: The Shed and the Pond

Chapter 5: Battle of the Swallows

Chapter 6: Queen of the Campus

Chapter 7: A Place of Their Own

Chapter 8: Building It Right

Chapter 9: Vigil

Chapter 10: Sudden Fame

Chapter 11: Family Affairs

Chapter 12: Intruder in the Night

Chapter 13: Suspicion

Chapter 14: Accusation

Chapter 15: Suspension

Chapter 16: The Samples

Chapter 17: The Phone Call

Chapter 18: Another Chance

Chapter 19: Visitor in the Light

Chapter 20: The Pond

Chapter 1

Departure

Lisa Tavenor was sick about leaving her home in Los Angeles. She had always considered the place a part of her and going away from it was like losing a big piece of her life. As her father's car traveled the bleak interstate highway out of southern California, she was sitting in the backseat and dwelling on this major upheaval. She had been born in that small house in Sherman Oaks and had lived there for all of her twelve years. Lisa had tried every tactic she could think of to stop the move. When her father had first mentioned the idea, she had shown disapproval with her best eye-rolling scoff. When her parents had been making the plans, she had bewailed the complete loss of her social life and subsequent personal ruin. She had even feigned illness, not a false action, since the thought of moving away from home made her feel like throwing up into the packing boxes. The twelve-year-old girl wondered how her mother and father could consider themselves good parents, if they were actually going to tear the family out by the roots and transplant it in some godforsaken town hundreds of miles into unknown territory. Such an upsetting event could ruin her mental and physical well-being. Didn't they know that? Surely, they must have read a magazine article in a doctor's office somewhere about the need for stability in the days and nights of a child. How could they be so insensitive! What a calamity!

When the loaded moving van had left, and Lisa's mother, father, and older brother were walking out of the empty house to the car, the girl thought seriously of protesting: sitting down in the middle of the living room floor and refusing to budge. She considered staying there until they returned all the furniture, food, clothes, and toys to their right and proper places in her home. Yes. Her own personal sit-down strike. Then they would see how important the place was to her and they would have to change their minds. When they would call to her from the car, she would remain in the house, silent and still as a statue. When they would return to find her teary-eyed and cross-legged on the old beige carpet, they would finally get her point and apologize all over the place. They would embrace her then gladly move back into their home where they belonged. All would be well.

Lisa waited for them to call to her. She halted at the door and listened but heard nothing except the engine firing. Peeking out the window, she saw her mother and father talking in the car and her brother, Erik, in the backseat bobbing to noise screaming out of his headphones. Even Digger the Dog was sitting next to Erik, unbothered by the shrieking and staring straight ahead the way he always did when excited about a car trip anywhere, anytime, with anyone in the family. They were ready to go and expected her to join them without a doubt that she was immediately coming, so eager were they to leave and anxious to get to their new home in northern California.

Eventually the girl realized she could not disappoint them and to her immense woe would have to sacrifice her beloved domestic security for the good of the family. Her father had finally landed a job teaching English at the state university, a job he had wanted for years. She would leave her childhood home for him most of all, a sacrifice for which she knew he would always be grateful. By going along with the move, Lisa figured she would become a bigger person and would have something to bargain with one day when she needed it.

While leaving the San Fernando Valley on that hot spring day, out of respect for the receding southland, she spoke not a word until the car had crested the Tejon Pass and was descending into the great central valley beyond the San Gabriel Mountains. In her mind she said farewell to long summer days, turquoise pools, crowded beaches, girlfriends and boyfriends, exciting city life, and even the dense smog that made such pretty sunsets. Not until the car had been cruising steadily on the interstate and she had settled into a reluctant acceptance of the situation did she finally open up with questions about their new residence in northern California. "So what's so special about this place we're moving to?" she asked with poorly concealed petulance.

Her mother, a woman who appeared always to be smiling regardless of her mood, started to respond then looked at her husband, knowing he would want to tell his daughter about it in his own way. "Sebastopol is a pretty little town in Sonoma county, Lisa," he said, "surrounded by apple orchards, vineyards, and dairy farms. The climate is coastal, and there's quick and easy access to the beaches."

Lisa had a strong urge to make fun of her father's tour-guide description, but his last word diverted her thoughts. "Beaches!" she nearly shouted. "They have beaches in northern California. I thought all they have is fog and rain."

"Yes, they have lots of that, even a little snow once in a while."

"A little. How come?" Lisa asked. "In LA we have lots of snow--in the mountains. Plus a little rain. And that place is way farther north. Who wants a lot of rain anyway, especially without snow?"

Robert Tavenor was a patient man, well seasoned by his daughter's relentless barrage of challenging statements and questions. He had encouraged her inquisitive mind, so he was destined to live with the consequences of raising a bright and curious girl. "You'll love our house, Lisa. It's in the countryside--used to be part of a farm."

She could not complain about this news for she loved animals, especially wild ones, and always regretted being limited in the city to the usual pet dog, cat, bird, or fish. She had been locally renowned for her interest and affection for fellow creatures. Whenever she had the choice of subject for school assignments, she always made pictures of animals or wrote about them. Her brother, Erik the Alien, as she called him, made fun of her in turn by calling her Mother Goose, but she was not bothered by the name even though she yelled at him for it, if for no other reason than to keep alive their rivalry. Some of her school mates had picked up the silly nickname and called her that too, but strangely she did not really mind hearing it from them either. Instead of raising a ruckus, she showed merely mild bemusement.

Erik had christened her Mother Goose after she had singlehandedly taken on the responsibility of watching over a brood of newly hatched goslings until old enough to fly. The day they took flight from the lake behind the Sepulveda dam and circled the park was a day even more memorable to her than the day she saw the movie star, Mark Stone, at Malibu Beach. That day had held a sacred place in her memory; that is, until she found out he was going to betray her by marrying someone else. The geese were better to remember, for they would never let her down, so she kept them in her heart and watched for them in the sky whenever she went to the park. Lisa liked to visit that large synthetic oasis in the middle of the Sepulveda flood control basin, especially whenever she needed to be alone with wild things, but she had to admit that it was not as satisfying as a truly natural habitat. "I wish it was still a farm," she said about the new place to which they were headed. "Digger and I would like lots of land." She hugged the mutt, and he slapped her face with his tongue.

"What, dear?" her mother asked.

"Our new home. As long as we're moving to the sticks we may as well do it right and move to a big farm way out in the country with lots of open land around it."

Susan Tavenor looked at her husband to see if he wanted to respond. When he merely glanced at her and grinned, she knew the signal for her to take it from there. "Our house is practically in the country," she said, "but if it were way out in the sticks, your father would have to commute too far to work." Being a graphic designer, Susan, actually favored her daughter's notion. She could enjoy a touch of country life since she had access to the internet wherever she lived in the world, even though she lacked her daughter's hands-on affection for the other creatures. "Don't worry, honey, I think you're going to love the place," she said with her characteristic smile. "While it's not quite brand new, no one has lived in it since it was built. It's a big two-story house. You and Erik will have your own rooms. And there is a huge backyard with apple trees and a pond."

Lisa put other pluses into her mental notebook about their new home. She loved apples and anything made with apples: juice, sauce, dumplings, bettys, fritters, turnovers, and especially pie. And the image of a pond sounded wonderfully wild to a city girl. Maybe the new place would not be so bad after all, but there was the problem of the new school. She had always been slow to make new friends. Although an attractive girl, Lisa was no beauty and lacked the effervescent personality of other girls in her classes, so she was quite apprehensive about meeting new kids. The thought of it actually made her downright queasy.

As the car hurtled up the featureless interstate highway that bisects the length of California, Lisa reeled her new home through her imagination. Because she was bound for the place anyway, she decided to put a rose-colored filter on her mind. She saw a mansion on a hill approached by a long winding treelined driveway. A huge swimming pool with a waterslide. A big tree touching her bedroom window so she could sneak out on warm nights to meet the handsome boy who lived next door. He, being the most popular guy in school, would usher her into the most desirable and enviable clique. The student body would elect her class president and prom queen. Now even Lisa knew her picture was becoming too rosy, but she laid her head back, closed her eyes, and let her mind drift into the extravagant daydream. So engrossed was she that not even the loud insect-like noises issuing from the Alien's earphones bothered her. Moving to Sebastopol might be better than she had expected, far better. She was so transformed by fantasy and her basic optimism that she could now barely wait to see her new home. Still, she did not imagine what awaited them there.

Chapter 2

Arrival

Sebastopol is a charming little town about fifty miles north of San Francisco and ten miles from the Pacific Ocean. As a village it had formerly been a center for a community of dairy farmers and apple ranchers. Toward the end of the twentieth century, people discovered it as a likely place to retire. During an economic boom that soon followed, clutches of young technical wizards moved into the town as into many coastal towns and cities from San Diego to Canada. The newcomers bought agricultural land for housing, and the whole place shot up the scale of property value, as happened in many other cities. Developers built commercial and residential buildings like pioneers on a gold rush, quickly increasing the quantity of single-family dwellings, even past the bursting of the boom bubble. Because of the rupture and subsequent deflation, the Tavenors could buy one of these dwellings for a reduced price. Robert and Susan were thrilled to be able to get a house for about a third of a million dollars, a rare price in the golden state.

They had planned to move in during the next summer but were so excited about Robert's new job and their new home that he persuaded the Pearson College president to release him so he could move his family in April. They knew from having lived in California all their lives that April would be the best month for the change of residence. Beautiful weather. Not yet hot. Everything still green and flowering. Mindful of the children, they wanted them to see their new house in the best light.

When Robert cut off I-5 toward San Francisco, and they rolled through mile after mile of hills green and resplendent with poppies and lupine, he and Susan saw the scenery as boding well for their migration. Lisa liked wildflowers and always looked forward to spring trips out of the city to picnic in green grassy hills aglow with blankets of the little golden cups. She was a city girl but the spirit of the country dwelt in her veins like sap dormant in a young sycamore tree. So as the car progressed more and more into the northern part of the state, almost another world in contrast to the "Southland" as media people there call it, Lisa's sadness and resentment fell away from her. A hint of her mother's perpetual smile crept into the corners of her own mouth. Even before realizing it, she was looking forward to seeing the new territory. An adventurous girl, her hazel irises glowed when she saw an opportunity for discovery. She was herself getting more and more eager to lay eyes on the new place. "How far is it, daddy?" she asked with none of the former petulance in her tone.

Thinking she might be getting ready to complain, though, he stiffened. "Not far now, Lisa. We should be there soon after sunset."

Sunset. It would be dark when they got there, she thought. She would not be able to look the place over carefully to make sure it was worthy of being her new home for the indefinite future. "Are we going to sleep there tonight?"

"That's the plan," he said, stretching.

"Want me to drive for awhile?" Susan asked with little enthusiasm for the task.

"Nah. I'll take us in. I didn't get much sleep last night but I'm all right."

Lisa looked at him and realized she had not been the only one concerned about the move. From her father her eyes passed to her brother. She watched him with a trace of disdain on her face, as his head pitched crazily to the sound of rap. She could not understand, never could, never would, what so interested him in that noise. To her it was primitive, ugly, violent, stupid, and certainly not music. She preferred the simple harmonized melodies of the Hitchhikers, not only because they were a bunch of gorgeous guys but also because their songs meant something to her, something that made her feel good about being a kid on the verge of teendom. She and her brother seldom got along anymore and they argued most often about music.

Being older than she, Erik acted as though his kid sister were a pesky rodent that ought to be caged or better put into a zoo. They had gotten along well till he entered high school, but then in Lisa's view he changed overnight from a playful boy to a sarcastic, sadistic monkey who wanted only to listen to noise and to skateboard all over town with his friends, all of whom she despised; well, all except Billy Moro. He was too cute to despise.

Their mother called it Erik's "difficult time" and showed him much more patience than she, herself, could ever muster. 'Mom has to be a saint,' Lisa would often say to herself when she was not exasperated with her for being so easy on the Alien. But father approached his son's behavior differently. He said little to Erik these days but waited for the boy to come to him, which he nearly never did, except to ask for money. And when the young primate showed signs of going wild, which he usually did, his father merely reminded him in a low but strident tone to behave himself.

Regardless of all this, Lisa held a secret affection and even an admiration for her big brother. His cool aloofness and devil-may-care attitude impressed her at times. She was far too conscientious to the point of being downright goody-goody even to imagine behaving the way Erik did but she had to love the guy.

The Tavenor car cut through Oakland, dropped into the San Francisco bay area, and cruised along the water adjacent to Berkeley. Lisa and Digger followed her mother's direction to look at the city across the water and the Golden Gate Bridge, and the girl held her breath awaiting her father to resume his tour-guide patter, but he surprised her this time and did not say a word. He often surprised her.

"See that tower," Susan said, drawing back her slender arm to point in the opposite direction. "That's the university--where your father and I went to college." She looked at both her children with prideful eyes, so full of enthusiasm as to expect Erik and Lisa to press their hands and faces against the window glass and utter nonsensical sounds of utter amazement. When she saw they were barely aware of the place and showing no sign of the desired response, her mouth fell from its perpetual upturn and she looked at her husband for reassurance. His smile to her was all she needed to resume her positive outlook. Lisa found that look increasingly absurd, and Erik ignored it completely. In her short span of time on Earth Lisa had too often seen life less than lovely and decided a while ago that her mother was a Pollyanna. Erik had gone farther in his unique way and found her simply an embarrassment to the entire family. He had once been something of a momma's boy but would now consider any show of affection between him and his mother no less humiliating than playing with dolls, talking to his sister, or wearing a dress to school.

Lisa could not bear to see her mother's feelings hurt, though, even slightly so she humored her with small talk on the subject. "Why'd you go there, mom?"

"It's a great school," Susan replied buoyantly.

"Why'd you move to LA?"

"To go to the Art Institute."

"Isn't there an art institute around here?"

"Yes, but your father got a job in LA. Then we bought a house in Sherman Oaks."

"Oh." Lisa was running out of questions.

"Sometimes life is like a train," Robert said. "Stay on it long enough and you end up where you started." Susan nodded, and Lisa rolled her eyes. Her father's tendency to make remarks he thought were clever annoyed her a little, but her mother liked to call it Bob's Philosophy, as if it were something that ought to be remembered like a lesson in school. Lisa sucked in her breath, as he continued. "Your mother and I have a lot of old friends around here, some we haven't seen for years."

Lisa might have been mistaken but she thought she saw her mother's saintly smile suddenly go sour. Was there a mystery with her parents that she had never noticed? Some dirt? A scandal? She hoped for something like that to spice up her parent's boring relationship, far too bland for her to find them very interesting. A few of her friends at school had told stories about their parents being arrested or having affairs, events she found fascinating and enviable in an odd way. She had always seen her parents as boring and hoped a skeleton would come crashing out of their closet someday, an event she could tell her girlfriends about and gain some outlandish respect. She studied her mother to see further signs of delicious trouble in their past.

Robert too noticed his wife's altered expression and stared into her blue eyes as if to swear some nonverbal pledge. They could have kept whatever secret might have existed between them to themselves, but for Susan's obviously irrepressible urge to unlock all doors. "Do you suppose Jesse is still around?" she asked her husband in that way women have of bringing up a touchy subject with their men by quickly throwing it open to the light of day.

Jesse! Lisa shouted silently to herself. Who was Jesse? She had heard of more than one of her classmates' parents leaving their mates for someone else, younger, prettier, and, while she was sympathetic to her friends from broken homes, she could tolerate such an adulteration of the ordinary but fulfilling recipe that was her parents' marriage.

"I'm sure I don't know, dear--" Robert said to his wife with dry ice on his breath. "I haven't heard from her since our wedding day."

More sharply than was her usual manner, Susan turned to Lisa and said, while looking at her husband, "Your father was quite the chick magnetic when I met him."

Robert Tavenor grinned despite an effort to stare blankly at the road. "Your mother exaggerates."

Chick magnet? Father? Now Lisa had to know more. "Who's Jesse?" Without knowing it, Lisa had inserted an electric shock into the conversation.

Her parents looked at each other, waiting for the other to respond. Susan saw an opportunity to keep him dangling so she offered, "Oh, only a woman he was madly in love with while a graduate student at Berkeley. A woman I replaced in his heart. A woman who made a big scene at our wedding reception by getting sloppy on champagne, hanging all over my groom, and running away in tears." She turned on him sharply. "I don't think you ever told me, Robert, why you invited her to our wedding."

"I told you I didn't invite her, Susan. She crashed the party."

She stared at him for longer than he could take without shifting his body and groaning softly. "Does she know you're coming back here?" she asked.

"How would I know? I haven't been in touch with her since our wedding day."

"Yes, you two certainly did a lot of touching that day."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Susan--"

"Okay, okay--I'll drop it." Her grin showed she enjoyed teasing him about his former flame, but a slight shadow crossed her face as a wisp of dark cloud across the moon. Apparently, a bone lay between them that they had not completely chewed up.

Lisa looked at her brother. He seemed not to have heard the conversation or he certainly would have turned off the racket to hear more. On the other hand, maybe he had heard and did not care to hear more. Lisa, though, was entirely amused by the breaking news. To see her mother and father behaving the way lovers do in the movies renewed her faith that they could actually turn out to be interesting people some day. Jesse. Hmm. The name prompted her imagination to take flight.

Chapter 3

Houseguests

The sun had just disappeared over the edge of the Earth when the Tavenors' car cut off Highway 101 to Sebastopol. By the time they got to the town, darkness was embracing the countryside. Lisa looked into the sky, surprised to see the number of stars visible; she had rarely seen them in Los Angeles. A full moon was floating over the hills and illumining the land with the silverlight that makes familiar objects appear altogether unworldly.

They curved up a country road a few miles out of town and started ascending a graceful hill, when Robert pointed to a big house surrounded by orchards at the end of the road. Along the line of his arm he said, "There it is, kids! There's our new home."

They all leaned forward to see details of the house, and Digger put his forepaws on the front seat. Even Erik seemed interested enough to speak, something he did only when the subject struck his fancy. Usually limited to one of three: music, skateboarding, and girls. "Big," he grunted as he surveyed the neighborhood for signs of his three interests in life.

"I want to see the inside," Lisa said, pushing open her door as soon as the car stopped in the driveway.

"Is the power on yet?" Susan asked.

"I'm really not sure if the utility company has turned it on yet," Robert replied. "I placed the order a few days ago."

The house was eerily dark; the way houses look when nobody has lived in them for a long time. "Looks scary," Lisa said.

"Nah. Just dark," her father assured.

"Yeah dark and scary," she said, compounding the point.

"Cool--" Erik said. "Maybe there's a ghost living here." He regarded his sister with a grin that he made silly by wobbling his eyeballs.

"Oh, shut up, Erik!" She was not really very scared but angry with her brother for thinking she was.

"Well, the lights aren't going to go on while we sit here looking at the place," Susan said. "Let's go inside and check out our new abode."

"Let's," Robert agreed.

"Oh, this is so exciting!" Susan tried to put her arms around her children who avoided her reach. Never knowing what neighbor kid might look out a window and see them, the boy and girl had to establish from the outset their obedience to the adolescent code of blasé behavior.

"Since the moving van isn't here yet," Robert said, "I guess we'll have to stay in a motel tonight."

"We could sleep on the floor, "Susan suggested.

"Like camping!" Lisa cried. "That'll be real fun. Let's do it."

"We do have our clothes in suitcases," Robert added.

"But no bedding," Erik shouted over his music.

They all stopped and stared at him, surprised by his complaint but even more by the rare contribution to a conversation. He looked from one to the other as if to say with his eyes: 'So what? Can't a guy toss in his two cents once in a while?'

His father got over his surprise first. "The floor is carpeted of course--and if the power is on, we'll have heat--if we need it."

"Come on, let's stay here tonight," Lisa practically cheered. "It'll be great?"

"I'm game," her mother said, attempting again to embrace her with at least one arm.

Lisa was too excited to dodge the gesture this time as she grabbed her father's hand and pulled him to the front door. "Come on, daddy--come on! We can order pizza and tell ghost stories. Is there a fireplace?" Her father nodded happily. She was burbling with excitement. "Oh, cool," Lisa said. "It'll be a real housewarming." Susan laughed at her daughter's mistaken though fitting use of the phrase. Except for Erik lagging behind, they reached the threshold in unison as if going to a party and they gathered around Robert while he searched for the key hole.

"Should've asked the power company to leave the porch light on for us," he quipped. Only his wife got the lame joke.

"Yeah, why didn't you, daddy?" Lisa complained then immediately got the gag herself and snickered.

He started to explain, when they heard noise from inside: quiet sounds like gentle drafts of wind whispering through velvet curtains.

"What was that?" Lisa said through a quick breath.

"I don't know." Susan looked to her husband.

His face configured into serious apprehension, and he hissed, "Maybe it is a ghost. I forgot to tell you guys--this place could be haunted."

"Haunted!" Erik shouted, pulling off his earphones. "Hah! I knew it!"

Again, the others looked at him but added a trio of signals for silence, which merely made him laugh more loudly. Susan did not share in her son's glee but mildly scowled at her husband. Lisa was less restrained in her disapproval. "Oh, daddy--you're not talking to little kids, you know. That stupid stuff doesn't scare us anymore." She put a snap on the end of her statement to convince them but mostly herself that she did not take for a second such nonsense to heart. Nevertheless, the furrow in her brow betrayed a tiny bit of fear. With some reason. It was a strange place at night with strange noises emanating from it, just the combination to stimulate one to imagine things all out of proportion to reality.

Robert liked the results of his little tease so well that he dressed it up. "I heard from one of the neighbors that on this exact spot in an old barn Black Bart hid from the law one day after holding up his twenty-fifth stagecoach. Shot it out with the posse for two hours until he ran out of bullets. When he came out of the barn to give himself up, one of the sheriff's men drilled him in the heart. Before he died he swore revenge on the posse, the farm, and all those who would ever set foot on the place." He paused to let his story catch hold and, before anyone could speak to break the spell, he said, "Maybe the ghost of old Bart still walks the rooms of our new house."

"Dad-dy!" Lisa protested but was a little unnerved.

"Aw--what a load o' BS!" Erik shouted. When his mother turned her scowl on him he coyly substituted, "Baloney."

"See for yourself, big guy," his father said.

Erik hesitated but pushed himself beyond any fear chilling his heart. "Lemme in there. I wanna see this ghost." He knew his father had not been able to unlock the door. So he could ram his hands against it without any risk of actually entering the now notorious building.

"Maybe we should camp outside till daylight," Robert said, struggling to control a grin. "Then we can invade Bart's lair in reassuring sunshine. Ghosts probably don't like sunshine, ghosts don't. Dries them out too much, I suspect. They're only vapors, you know."

Lisa studied her father's face a moment, detected the mischief behind his eyes, and slapped his arm. "Oh, daddy, come on. You're really not very good at telling ghost stories. Nobody would ever believe you." She glanced hurriedly from face to face to hide her own gullibility, a state of mind she found thoroughly weak, degrading. She would not allow anyone to peg her as a scaredy-cat and made every effort to keep it from showing on her face. "Open the door, daddy. I want to--to see our new house even if our roommate is a ghost." The last word left a slightly wavering trail out of her mouth.

The story might have amused the children but not Susan. She was growing impatient. "Are you sure you have the right key, dear?" She always tacked on the affectionate term when irritated.

Robert knew it was time to act accordingly. "Yes. I'm sure. Here, let me try it again." He succeeded in opening the door this time, easing it slowly as if he wanted to hear it squeak. To his disappointment, it did not, but the rustling sound was louder. Digger's ears wiggled, eyes widened, nose pointed.

"See if there's a light switch," his wife directed.

Obediently he reached along the wall and found it, but when he flicked it--no lights. "Damn!" he whispered. "They can take their time with my power but won't let me be a day late with their money."

"Damn!" Erik echoed loudly.

Susan wanted to stick the boy with another of her riveting looks but was too distracted by the dark interior full of strange noise.

"Would you get the flashlight out of the car, son?" Robert said.

Erik obliged readily, usually eager to do anything connected with cars. That long awaited golden age of drivability was gleaming in front of him like a great unwrapped present. To prepare for big birthday number sixteen he used to cruise up & down the driveway of their former house for hours to get the feel for what it would be like to command an internal combustion engine. Normally reluctant to cooperate with family duties, errands, and chores, he often jumped at any opportunity to perform a function, any function around an automobile, no matter how small. So he ran to get the flashlight for his father.

When Robert followed the cone of light into the house, he was the first to see small shades flitting around the room. The apparitions so startled him he nearly dropped the torch. Steady now, he told himself. You're the man of the house.

"What was that?" Lisa whispered.

"What? I didn't see anything," her mother said instantly.

"You didn't see those, those dark things flying around the room?" Lisa asked a little breathlessly. Susan shook her head with her mouth open. "Well, daddy did, didn't you?" Lisa said.

Robert nodded with his mouth open too. "I saw something but I don't know what it was--for sure."

"Ghosts," Erik howled, raising his hands slowly, menacingly above his head. "Boo!" he shouted at Lisa.

She screamed. The black sprites swarmed like a gust of wind. "Bats!" she yelled. "They must be bats! Huh, daddy?"

He peered around the room. "Could be."

"Bats!" Susan cried. In our new home. Oh, no! Aren't they dangerous?"

"Only to insects," Lisa told her and the girl started to ramble on the way a young student does when answering a question about which she has a lot of new knowledge.

Her mother interrupted her with an urgent question. "Don't they bite? And get in your hair--?"

"They suck your blood-da!" Erik said in his best vampirese, which was not very convincing but under the circumstances worked quite well.

"Oh, stop that, Erik!" his mother barked. "We're jumpy enough. Go in there and see what those things are doing in our house, if you want so much to be like them."

Erik pondered the suggestion a beat then decided that a show of teen bravado was in order now. Such an act could place him yet another notch higher in the esteem of his family members. "Okay. Okay." He stepped into the light and started to disappear beyond it. "Hey, dad, shine it over here, will ya? I see something at a window."

"What is it, Erik?" his mother asked, not at all certain she should have urged him to enter the place.

"Are they bats?" Lisa was most curious and started to follow her brother into the house, but her mother held her back.

"Don't go in there, Lisa. It's bad enough your brother's inside. I don't want to lose both of you."

"Aw, mom! What are you so scared of? Bats won't hurt us."

"How do you know? You don't know everything. You're too young to know for sure. Besides, I heard bats have rabies. Oh, God! What have I done? Erik! Come back here!"

Even Robert's normally dormant anxiety burst out of him at the thought of a cloud of rabid bats turning his son into an even madder beast than he already was. "Erik! You'd better get away from them. Just in case. Come on out of there--"

Erik, who had disappeared, was stone silent.

"Erik?" his mother shouted with panic rising in her voice.

No response.

"Erik!" Susan, Robert, and Lisa hollered in disharmony.

Still no answer. They held their breaths. Watched. Listened.

Casually into the light stepped Erik, sporting a broad grin. "Had ya goin' for awhile, didn't I? Heh! Heh!" He was secretly glad for their concern but maintained his brave act. "Nothin' at all to worry about, folks. Only a bunch o' dumb birds."

"Birds!" Robert, Susan, and Lisa again said in trio.

"Yeah. Some kinda small bird," Erik said.

"What? Like sparrows?" Robert asked.

"I donno. I guess. Ask Miss Know-it-all. She has an answer for everything about animals. She'll tell us." He drew all eyes to Lisa.

After leveling one of her more formidable sneers at her brother, she could not help but accept his invitation. "Let me see them," she said authoritatively, stepping into the house.

Susan tossed a look at her husband, who shrugged then let Lisa go with only her customary motherly warning: "Be careful, dear."

Lisa ignored it and ventured into the building. "Bring the light, daddy. I can't see a darn thing."

"Hey, watch your language, little girl!" her brother shouted.

Lisa ignored him too, so engrossed was she in the adventure and impatient for the flashlight. "Daddy!"

He hurried to her with the torch, and together they walked into the living room. While he sprayed light around the space, she watched for anything resembling birds. They apparently settled after having been disturbed by a human invasion into what they considered their own territory, and had become quiet but for twittering.

"Shine it on the windowsills, dad." When he did so, she spotted them. "There! Look! Lots of them. Birds. Yes, they are birds! Shine it over there--on that one in the window. Yes! I see it now! I know that kind of bird. They're swallows, daddy! That's what we have in our house--swallows. How wonderful!"

He could not enthusiastically agree with her choice of adjective and he knew he was not alone in the point of view. "Yeah. Well, I don't know how wonderful your mother is going to think it is."

"Oh, daddy! I know about these birds. I did a report on them for school. Remember?" He was a little embarrassed that he could not immediately recall it. "I got an A on that project."

Now he wished even more that he could remember it. Since he could not do so, however, he settled for one of the tactics tried and true in a like situation. "Great! Good for you. I'd love to see it again."

She looked at him to check his sincerity but could not see his face clearly behind the flashlight so she let it go in favor of the birds. "I think it's totally wonderful that they've come to visit us in our new house."

"Well, I wasn't expecting houseguests," he said, turning toward the front door. "Especially any with wings." She started to tell him something of the behavior of swallows but, when the light disappeared around her, she realized he was not listening. "Come on, Lisa," he said. "Let's go."

"Go! We just got here. I thought we were going to camp out in the living room."

"We can't stay here now with all these birds," he said loud enough for his wife to hear. "And I'm too tired to deal with them tonight."

"That's right, dear," Susan shouted to Lisa from the doorway. "They're dirty and may be diseased."

"Yeah," Erik said with considerable glee. "You don't wanna wake up in the morning with bird crap all over ya, do ya, Mother Goose?"

"Oh, stuff it, Erik."

"Now, now, Lisa--" Robert intervened. No matter how crude he made it, Erik has a point. We...."

"Yeah, on his head," Lisa snapped.

"Better than an empty one," her brother snapped back.

"Ooooh, sometimes I wish I was a boy and I'd smash you so hard your belly button would come out your...."

"Lisa--" her mother admonished.

"Heck, Maybe I'll do it anyway." Lisa lunged for the lad but found her mother in the way."

"That's enough, Lisa," she said in her mother-as-boss tone. We've got to stay in a motel tonight. Tomorrow we'll see about getting these birds out of our home so we can have it properly to ourselves."

"What if they won't go?" Lisa asked.

"Won't go--" Her father thought for a moment about this point, one that he had not considered, and then said gently. "I'm afraid they'll have no choice, Lisa."

"Yeah," Erik added. "They'll leave or get blown away."

Lisa felt the hot rush of tears in her eyes and blinked to keep them from showing. She hated to cry because of her brother's behavior, especially since he always seemed to enjoy it so much. Sometimes she hated her brother and at the time, she was not feeling particularly fond of her mother and father either. Lagging behind them while they got back into the car, she listened for the rustling and twittering of the swallows. The sounds soothed her, made her feel at home in this strange place. Not at all afraid of the little animals, even affectionate toward them, Lisa Tavenor saw the birds in her house as a good omen, a sign that despite misgivings her new life here could become tolerable.

Chapter 4

The Shed and Pond

When the Tavenor family returned to their house the next morning, they saw it in the sunshine of a clear spring day. Built in the Spanish style the two-story building stood well back off the street and in the middle of a large parcel of land adorned with fruit trees and a few conifers. Wild flowers were blooming along the road; garden flowers and shrubs had overgrown around the building. The only sound was the hammering of construction in the far distance and chirping birds nearby, lots of birds. But no swallows, the swallows were gone. Lisa was the first to enter the house, pushing past her father at the door, and she was visibly disappointed to see that the feathery squatters had departed. Before she could voice her feeling, however, her mother, who was excited to hear that the birds had left, entered happily behind her. But instantly screamed in horror: "Oh--my--God! What a mess! Just look at what those disgusting things did to our new home." If she had been a bomb, she would have exploded from the unpleasant discovery of her new carpet spotted with bird dung.

"Wow! What a lot of crap!" Erik announced, very pleased with himself for having an opportunity to make a joke about animal waste--one of his a favorite topics for humor. "They were definitely not ghosts, unless they...."

"Erik," his mother snapped.

Robert looked at the filth and said, "Time to break out the vacuum."

"Vacuum! We'll have to shampoo the entire carpet," Susan said. "Maybe sterilize it. Ugh!"

Lisa wanted to defend the birds for doing what they do naturally without knowing or caring they were doing it in a human home. For them the place was just another building in which to make their nests and raise their young. She wanted to explain the situation away but knew she could not, at least not to her mother's satisfaction, so the best tactic remaining to her was to pitch in and clean up the house. "I'll get the vacuum cleaner."

"We can't use my good vacuum cleaner on that, that...." Susan said.

"Crap," Erik finished for his mother. She had no objection to his vulgar remark this time and nearly nodded in agreement.

"It'll be all right, dear," Robert said. "The stuff is dry and crusty and will turn to powder when we go over it with the machine."

"Could you spare me the glorious details?" Susan asked. "How are you going to do it anyway? The vacuum is in the van, isn't it?"

"No. I put it in the car. Had a hunch we might need it."

"You hunched right," she said with a sad look at the floor.

"I'll get it, daddy," Lisa said and ran out to the car.

"Help your sister, Erik," their father said.

"I don't need any help," Lisa shouted from the driveway.

"He'll help you anyway."

The boy grumbled on his way to the car and when he drew near his sister, he said quietly, "Damn birds!"

Lisa scowled and wanted to complain about him to their parents but realized it would accomplish nothing except make him into an avenging alien. He could be frightfully vengeful, and she had too often suffered for having reported him to their parents for one misdeed or another. Generally, her attempts at getting him punished had yielded limited returns. Besides, as much as she disliked her brother as a person she was bound to him as a sister. And she did love him a little despite his commitment to vulgarity, so, when he grabbed the vacuum cleaner and dragged it out of the car, she let him do it and thanked him. He stopped and stared at her, always surprised at her acts of kindness and gratitude, but as a gesture of his carefully protected young male ego, he brushed it off and toted the machine into the house. With a knotty grin on her face, she followed him more closely than usual.

By the time they got back inside, Susan had checked out all the rooms and Robert the grounds. She met the children in the living room and proclaimed that the only zone of devastation. "Fortunately the little devils spared the other rooms. So if we can clean this up, the place will be livable. It's quite a nice house, if you ignore the muck. Don't you think so, kids?"

Erik nodded with a neutralizing shrug, but Lisa enthusiastically agreed. Already feeling at home, she was looking forward to moving into her bedroom. "When will the van get here?"

"Today, I expect," her father said, re-entering from the backyard where he had gone to look over his new property. "You should see the yard," he shouted. "Fruit trees in bloom and a lot big enough for...."

"A swimming pool?" Erik asked hopefully.

"Well--there's a pond."

"Oh," Erik said, unable to decide whether or not he liked that fact.

"Oh, I want to see it," Lisa said, rushing for the door.

Robert grabbed the vacuum cleaner. "Now, let's see how well this baby works on that gunk."

Susan watched with hope for a miracle, while Erik slipped away from the immediate area of labor, and Lisa ran into the backyard, Digger right behind her.

Outside, the girl ran her eyes over the half acre: apple trees, a rough-hewn lawn, an old shed, and a small cattle pond. She looked around, expecting to see cows or sheep. It is dairyland, she told herself. A few were grazing in neighboring fields along with a horse. The country. She used to dream of living in the country, but the pace and subtle frenzy of city life had distracted her from that dream. Now, standing on a lawn that looked more like a small meadow, here she was breathing crisp, clean air and gazing at an orchard of appleblossoms. The pond was most inviting. She walked to it and scanned the water. In front of a patch of cattails along the far bank, a pair of mallards was scavenging for tidbits in the shallows, their lightly clattering bills churning the water, the hen chattering quietly, "Gwack, gwack," as she scudded among the reeds. They reminded Lisa of the ducks she used to enjoy watching at the sanctuary near her home in Los Angeles. She kept her eyes on the waterfowl, much amused by their headstands, their feathery tails pointed skyward, as she ambled to the shed.

A small building that had been for tool storage was now the only decrepit vestige of a farm that had flourished on the land for generations. Lisa tried to guess how old it was, figuring maybe a hundred years. Not far off, because farms and ranches had existed in Sonoma County for more than two hundred years. Stepping to a glassless window, she peered inside and saw mostly rusted objects surrounded by gobs of cobwebs, as if some fairy had gone wild spinning cloth. She looked up and saw blue sky. No roof. Despite its dilapidated condition, she imagined the place as a private retreat where she could get away from the family when they got on her nerves, or as a clubhouse where she could meet her friends for snacks and gossip about schoolmates and purr over pop stars. It was ramshackle and needed a lot of work to become usable, but she would enjoy doing it; she liked to work hard for something worthwhile. That is why she did well in school. When Lisa Tavenor took on a task, the girl stayed with it until she finished it to the best of her ability. Some people called her a perfectionist, but she did not care. She wanted to be as near perfect as she could; it made her feel important.

A splashing noise interrupted her thoughts. Swinging her eyes to the pond, she saw Erik standing on a small dock and throwing rocks at the ducks, an action that started Digger barking joyously. "Erik! Don't do that!" she screamed. "You'll hurt them or scare them away."

Surprised to be caught in the middle of acting out his natural born instinct, he lost his balance and nearly slipped into the water. "So what!" he shouted. "Maybe I can get one for dinner."

"Erik! You maniac! Don't you have enough to eat? You have to kill such pretty things?"

"Such pretty things," he mocked. "They're only dumb birds. Like those dirty swallows."

"They're not dumb, they're not dirty. They're beautiful!"

He stared at her for a second. "God, you're weird, Mother Goose," he mumbled just loud enough so she could hear, then he walked back to the house. She had wanted to show him the shed but knew the mood was not right now and kept it to herself. Besides, he would probably try to take it over for himself and his friends. Jerks.

As she walked back to the pond and stepped onto the dock, where Digger was running back and forth, fixated on the birds, she thought about going to school on Monday and about how the kids there would treat her. She had not been a new kid in school since kindergarten, but that did not count since they were all new then, and she could barely remember it. She did not enjoy at all the idea of being the new kid in class. Lisa had witnessed what often happened to new kids and shivered at the thought of it happening to her. They would sit frozen at their desks, not smiling or talking, only glancing around at the other kids. She had always felt sorry for them but had to admit that she, too, with her friends had often ignored newcomers, especially if they did not speak English or if they showed something unusual in their appearance or in the way they acted. She had always been glad to be part of her solid group and grateful that she had been an accepted member of the informal club that included her and her faithful friends. She thought of these things as she stared at the sunlight dancing on the water. Lisa was glad to have this little retreat on her own property, this pond and the trees and the shed, for she had a feeling she would need them.

Chapter 5

Battle of the Swallows

Fortunately, Robert was right about the carpet. The vacuum cleaner removed all visible presence of the bird droppings; although, Susan was not satisfied until they had washed the living room floor with a carpet cleaner. By the time the moving van arrived, the carpet was clean and nearly dry, so the Tavenors worked all day moving into their new home, their excitement about the place invigorating them, which was exactly what they needed for that backbreaking task. Naturally, Erik and Lisa argued over which bedroom they would acquire, both wanting the one with a view of the backyard. However, he quickly accepted the room on the street when his father pointed out the advantage of spotting passing cars. Erik also liked the opportunity to watch approaching visitors; he had a bit of the spy about him.

Lisa was secretly thrilled to find that a tree actually did stand right outside her bedroom window. To reach it would be precarious, though, for she would have to hang on to the window frame while grabbing a limb, then drop ten feet to the ground; but she could do it and was joyous to have found at least one of her fantasies about the new place had come true. No cute boy living right next door, but her new home was looking better to her with each passing hour.

Robert and Susan were pleased even more. Everything was falling into place as they had planned. Only a few pieces of furniture showed any moving scars, and the misplacement of important items, such as the telephone, turned out to be temporary and caused only a little frenzy. When everything was out of the van and moved into the house, they sat at their dining table in the middle of a mountain range of boxes and congratulated themselves on their success. Robert had his dream job; Susan had occupied her new home; and Erik and Lisa were content in their new quarters. They would pick up some prepared meals from the grocery store, hook up the stereo and the TV, and toast to their new domicile. In their minor bliss, they had no idea their contentment would be short lived.

Evening brought the return of the uninvited houseguests. Erik saw them first, flying around outside the house. "Hey! The dirty birds are back!" he shouted with a dash of mirth.

"Oh, God, no!" Susan cried.

They all rushed to the windows and saw with varying responses the swallows darting around the place like little jets buzzing the building. "Close the windows!" Robert commanded. Everyone scurried through the house, even Erik despite his laughter. Lisa too found humor in the situation, but her mother was intolerant of anyone having fun during such a crisis. The birds were invaders and had to be repelled at all cost.

The Tavenors checked and closed all the windows and doors just in time, then congratulated themselves on the accomplishment, even though their efforts had been needless, since screens covered all the windows. Catching their breath, they watched the birds zooming around the house, and the family quickly relaxed, believing they had blocked out the intruders for good. However, Susan was unhappy with their presence anywhere within view. "Are they always going to try to get in here?"

"Maybe," Lisa said.

"Probably not," Robert said. "They'll give up when they find it hopeless and then go some place else. They'll see it's no use beating their heads against a wall."

Just as Susan was breathing with relief and returning to the dining table, the sound of rushing wind reawakened her anxiety. In the next second, a swarm of dark sprites flew into the house and raced around the living room. "Aieee!" she screamed. "How did they get in here?!"

"The chimney!" Lisa shouted. "They're coming in through the chimney! Look!"

They all turned to see little winged things streaking out of the fireplace. "God! I forgot about the damper!" Robert said without looking at Susan, whom he knew was staring at him with a flicker of fire in her eyes. "Damn!" he said.

"Damn!" Erik echoed his father and reflected him further by not looking at his mother.

Susan screeched when a bird buzzed her head. "Yeow! One of them tried to attack me!"

"They won't hurt you, mom," Lisa said. "They're just trying to find a good spot to roost for the night."

"Well, they're not going to make a nest out of my hair. And they can find some other place to roost--miles from here." She rushed into the kitchen. "Where is that broom! I'll get those little monsters out of my home if I have to knock them into the next county. Robert, open the door and grab something to swat them with. Help me!" He and the laughing Erik obliged her.

However, Lisa was not at all in the mood to be an accomplice to murder. "Mother! Don't hurt them! They don't mean any harm."

"I don't care what they mean. I don't want them in my house. Now help me get rid of them." Returning with a broom, she started swinging at the birds with surprising power.

"Mother!" Lisa screamed to no avail.

"Go, mom!" Erik yelled in counterpoint.

"Erik!" Lisa hollered at him. She spun to her father. "Daddy, make her stop! She'll hurt them."

Robert stood apparently helpless, even dizzy in the middle of the room with birds zipping around him. "I--I....

Just as Robert was immobile, Digger was animated and jolted into action, dashing around the room and barking at the birds.

"Do something!" Lisa shouted at her father.

"Nothing to do but get them out of here, Lisa," he said impotently.

Frantic with fear for the little creatures, Lisa watched her mother sweeping them off the windowsills, the birds fluttering to the carpet. "You're going to kill them, mother!"

"I'm not trying to hurt them, Lisa. I just want them out of my house. It's my home, not theirs."

"Well, they think it is," Lisa cried.

"Bird brains," Erik said.

"You should know," Lisa retorted. "And they're probably smarter than you are."

"Oh, yeah?" he growled. "At least I know the difference between a house and a tree." He roared with delight at his remark.

"They don't live in trees, stupid. I think these are barn swallows," she said, stooping to examine one her mother had swatted to the floor.

Susan was indeed a formidable foe to the birds. She swung the housecleaning tool as a weapon of mass destruction, looking less like a domestic woman of the civilized world than a demonic witch. Even Robert backed away from her, in case she might mistake him for the enemy. Lisa screamed and screamed, but her mother continued to do battle. Only Digger bounced faithfully by her side, eager to snatch any hapless fallout from the warrior's wicked broom. Erik laughed and rolled on the floor.

In minutes, the aerialists had either bounced off the walls, crashed onto the carpet, or fled for their lives through the open doorway. They learned quickly and harshly from the matriarch of the house that their former roosting place was no longer the safe haven it had been. When the skirmish ended, most of the birds had escaped, but one or two lay quivering on the floor. Much to Digger's delight.

Lisa in tears drove away the dog and ran to their aid like a military medic. Picking up one then another, she checked them for signs of life and examined their bodies and wings. If she had possessed a stethoscope, she would have listened for their little heartbeats. As she scanned each one for injuries, she kept murmuring pitiful sounds just as though she were a mother bird worrying over the well-being of her offspring. Luckily, all the birds were alive, only stunned. While they lay in her hands, recovering their senses, Lisa studied them closely. Never having had the opportunity to see a live one up close when she had made her report on swallows, she was now intensely interested in them, their sleek little heads, their flashy markings, their iridescent feathers, their sharply tapered wings, their long double tails. As they slowly recovered and one after the other flew out of her hands into the darkening sky, her sobbing subsided, as did her fury at her mother. Yet a smidgen of resentment remained after the last swallow was gone from the house that night. And she had to voice it. "You could have killed one of them, mom."

"I wouldn't have done that, Lisa. Not on purpose."

"Well, you could've done it by accident--hitting them like that."

Erik chortled, but his father silenced him with a gesture. Now was not the time to set fire to the issue with ridicule. Erik clammed up, smart enough to be discreet when necessary.

"How else were we going to get them out of the house?" Susan asked as she defensively surveyed the other members of her family. "They certainly weren't going to take a hint like people staying late after a party. They weren't likely to listen to a polite request. They're wild birds, Lisa, and they don't understand...."

"They understand more than we think, mother."

"Well, I think we should clear the table, clean up the kitchen, and settle down to a little TV before we go to bed," Robert said with his most diplomatic voice. "No harm done."

Everyone fell silent for a few moments as if considering the worth of any further commentary on the subject. Finding action more comfortable than talk for the time, they did as Robert suggested, though with continued silence. As commonly occurs after a fight, international or personal, a pall hung over the Tavenors that evening. Rushing adrenaline had left them weary and listless. After watching something on TV not remember one hour later, they withdrew to their bedrooms to sleep among boxes for the night. The next day would bring sunshine, the children off to school, and more work setting up their new home. They could discuss the Battle of the Swallows, as it would come to be called, another day when enough time had passed for emotions to mellow and family affection could re-unite them.

Chapter 6

Queen of the Campus

The next day broke dull and dark over Sebastopol. Coastal fog draped the land, dampening the Tavenors' spirits, already weakened by the conflict of the previous night. Robert and Susan faced with less than sparkling enthusiasm the considerable chore of putting their house in order; Erik and Lisa went off to their new schools with more apprehension than eagerness, especially Lisa. To her the foggy weather boded ill for her entrance into a new social group. Indeed, she was so nervous that she could barely eat her breakfast. All she could think about was that first meeting with the kids that would indicate the ease or difficulty she would find in gaining acceptance. Susan noticed and knew how she felt, remembering well having felt the same way in her youth, and she tried to talk to her daughter to ease the tension, but Lisa's grudge against her mother's attack on the birds still resided in a corner of her heart. So when Susan had gotten Erik set up at the local high school and was taking Lisa to her school, the car was silent. Her daughter would forgive her soon, so Susan let her work out her hard feelings herself until she got over them. To make things worse for Lisa, though, the strain ill prepared her for meeting a classroom full of strange kids.

When Lisa Tavenor walked into Room 22 at Hilary J. Worthington Middle School, she immediately felt something she had never known--alienation. Ironically, she had for years thought of her brother as an alien being but did not fully comprehend the significance label. Now she herself was feeling more like someone from another planet. At that moment, she nearly wished she could apologize to him but first she had to ease into her school desk without showing any discomfort and behave as if she were the most poised person in the world. She did not pull it off well, though, and she knew it. The biggest difficulty was with the eyes, the staring eyes, sixty of them, all focused on the new kid standing in the doorway of the classroom.

When the teacher, Miss Torquette, showed Lisa to her seat, the girl was hoping it would be located deep in the rear corner of the room. No such luck. It was right in the middle. The center of attention. She felt as if she were a zoo animal on stage. She expected a spotlight to splash over her like a blinding search light, as well an audience of thousands leaning forward with their chins on their hands to see the antics of the animal in the center ring. Lisa kept her head down, despite her intention to keep her chin up, but let her eyes bounce off those of the staring multitudes. She wanted at that moment more than ever to know the secret of the invisible man. When the teacher said her name by way of introducing the new girl to the rest of the class, Lisa Tavenor blushed hot as if she had just bitten into a jalapeno pepper, especially when she heard one child in the back of the room whisper her name in mockery. At least her eyes were not tearing. Or were they? God! Don't let me cry. In fact, while you're at it, God--let me wake up and find I've been having a nightmare.

Lisa could not wake up but she did hear the teacher mercifully relieve the situation when she directed the class to open their math books. The new student could gain something like camaraderie by joining the collective groan that arose at the suggestion of algebraic word problems. She glanced around and smiled at any eyes she could catch to let them know that she was with them in their struggle against the onslaught of apparently meaningless education that teachers forced fun-loving kids to endure for torturously long days. If nothing else, she could cover her horror at having to invade strangers in a strange land with a good strong show of anti-math attitude.

"Lisa doesn't have a math book yet," Miss Torquette said, drawing unholy attention back to the poor girl. "Brittany, would you let her look on with you for now?"

"But Jenna is my math partner, Miss Torquette," Brittany said with the vocal air of an over-indulged debutante.

"I know, dear--but I want you to share with the new girl for today."

The new girl. 'Oh, great!' Lisa nearly said aloud. That helps a lot, Miss Dorkette, or whatever your name is. She wanted to crawl under the desk and pray for a good strong earthquake that would distract the whole school from the 'new girl'.

"Oh, all right. Here--scoot over," the royal debutante commanded of Lisa.

"Now, now, Brittany--be nice," the teacher said.

Lisa was quickly developing a definite distaste for her math teacher that a string of A grades might sweeten, but likely nothing would improve her impression of the classmate sitting next to her. Just my luck, Lisa thought, I have to be sitting next to the Queen Bitch. Probably rules a clique the size of a gathering of starlets auditioning for a role opposite Mark Stone in his next movie. Hers would be a social club full of cheerleaders, student models, and themselves. One look at the princess's manicure, pedicure, popstar fashion statement, and carefully coiffed hair and Lisa knew she was going to have trouble with this one. A lot of trouble.

She was right. Brittany Sample made a career of intimidating both boys and girls while at the same time causing the girls begrudgingly to admire her and the boys to fall madly in love with her. As self-anointed campus royalty with a retinue of adorable and devoted followers, she intimidated even some of her teachers. They in turn indulged her rude behavior and conferred upon her undeservedly high grades. For the regal Miss Sample to have to sit next to such a minor element in her world as the 'new girl' and actually have to share her private textbook with her was an insult she could barely stomach and would remember when the unavoidable confrontation arose between them. Lisa guessed that after class something ugly would issue from the nasty mouth of her temporary math partner; she was dreading it but she had no idea how miserable her school life would become as a result.

It happened sooner than Lisa had thought it would--during lunch. Brittany and her entourage cornered the new girl in the bathroom. When she saw them enter while she was heading into a stall, she figured trouble had arrived but she had no experience for the severity of the trouble.

"Oh, there she is--the new girl," Brittany said with her most belittling tone. "So where do you come from, newbie?"

Lisa wanted desperately to relieve herself but felt it unwise now to reveal her need. "Los Angeles," she said, inflecting her voice with a puff of pride.

"Oh, are you in the movies?" Brittany asked sarcastically.

"Not everyone in LA is in the movies."

"I take that to be a No. Well, I'm going to be a star someday." She struck a modeling pose to which her companions paid their respects with appropriate tittering. Lisa stared at Brittany, certainly the star of her own show. "I've got the lead in Dynamite!" Brittany announced.

"Oh." Lisa knew the musical play well. She had seen the movie three times but she was not going to let these girls know of her fondness for it. "That's nice."

"Nice! It's just the best thing that's happened to anyone around here ever. I'll probably attract some big producers to the show."

"Uh-huh." Lisa was doing her dullest to make the girls leave her alone so she could finish her bathroom duties in private.

"Well, I can tell you know nothing about theater," Brittany said. "Or--you're just jealous. That's it, girls. I bet she's jealous." Her followers waggled their heads. "Well, I get a lot of that," Brittany said. "I'm used to it. And you'll get used to being jealous." The bell rang. Lisa breathed in silent gratitude. "See you around, L. A.," Brittany said.

"My name's Lisa."

Brittany simply flipped a glance over her shoulder as she led her groupies out of the bathroom. As soon as the door shut behind them, Lisa rushed into a stall, hurried through the procedure, and dashed out to her next class. Can't be late. Hopefully, Queen Bitch won't be in that one.

She was. By the end of the day Lisa's hope to escape Brittany Sample was dashed. She and her groupies were in all of Lisa's classes, even the elective. She had been looking forward to taking drama, as one of the few subjects she really enjoyed and one she thought she could feel comfortable in, despite the new school, but now she seriously considered transferring to journalism or even computers just to get away from Brittany for at least one period.

At the end of the day Lisa was relieved to escape her budding nemesis and happy to be able to walk home, her house being less than a mile away. As she toted her backpack while trudging up the country road she thought about her classes, teachers, and fellow students. They all seemed about the same as those she had left behind, the difference being, a huge one, that they were all strangers. She was starting anew with every single person at school. This in mind, she longed for the first time in her life to see her brother, if only to talk to a familiar young face. She had been unusually withdrawn at school, pulled into herself like a turtle hiding from predatory claw and fang. That was not like her. She was not afraid of people, never had been, but now she was facing a situation unencountered and she did not like it. I have to do something. Got to make at least one friend. Maybe that girl behind me in history. Seems friendly. A little mousy. At least not tricky and annoying--probably. No miss popular, but that's a good thing now. Work my way into the inner circles in time.

Lisa stopped before walking up the driveway to her house and watched the clouds move across the sky. Monumental stacks of billowing white masses were towering into a bright afternoon blue. She enjoyed seeing which way they headed and finding shapes in them; amorphous and suggesting things, they always held her in awe. She could watch them for hours. She longed to fly to them and lie among their cottony cushions away from people and the mean things people do. There she would watch birds arc and wheel on the high blown air. The girl often wished she had been born a bird. To fly above the Earth--mountains and seas--drop into canyons, ride thermals, skim rivers, swoop into trees. The life of a bird. Short. Risky. Yet adventurous and free. Surveyors of the broad land. Tricksters on the wind.

"Hey, Mother Goose--" a voice grounded her.

She spun around to see her brother trotting up the road. "Alien," she shouted, wishing immediately she had not called him that, not this time, maybe not anymore.

"Lookin' for your friends?"

Unsure of what he meant at first and afraid he was referring to her social condition, she dumbly shook her head. Then it hit her. "The swallows?"

"You have other friends?"

"Don't be a jerk."

He chuckled. "I'm only asking."

She tossed her head and strode ahead of him to the house.

"Think they'll come back tonight?" he asked.

She was surprised that his tone sounded genuinely interested and, at first, thought she must be mistaken but decided to let him have his fun. "Probably. They think this is their nesting place. Maybe thought so for a long time. They...."

"Okay, okay. I wasn't lookin' for a dissertation on the subject."

"A what?" She regretted having asked that, not wanting to let her brother know anything she did not know, so she quickly responded as if she had simply not heard the word clearly. "Oh, yeah--a dis-ser-tation. Very funny."

"I wasn't tryin' to be funny. Just mean."

"As usual."

He thought about testing her knowledge of the four-dollar word he had used but decided to let her off the hook this time. Plenty of opportunity to make his sister look a fool. "If they do come back--the birds--mom's gonna freak out, ya know."

Concern about such an eventuality had been stirring in the back of Lisa's mind all day. "I know." She wanted her brother's support but dared not mention such a yearning. He would only try to make her feel childish. Too bad. They had once been good playmates. Why couldn't he just drop the big shot routine and be a loving brother? She looked into his blue eyes, the same eyes as their mother's, and tried to find some feelings for her in them, but quickly became uncomfortable with the close contact and burned it off.

"Why doncha have a talk with them?" he asked. "The birds. Straighten them out on the differences between barns and people's houses?"

"How do you know they're barn swallows?"

"I don't." He lied.

"Yes, you do." Again, she stared at him but with a wholly different attitude--one of a flick of anxiety mixed with surprise. "Have you been going through my things again, Alien?"

"No--" He threw his hands up defensively but could not suppress a revealing grin.

"You have, haven't you--" She started for him.

He backed off playfully. "I heard you describing them to mom. Really! Besides, I also heard you practicing for that presentation you did for class. That's all. I don't give a damn about your stupid things."

She did not know what to make of his admission. Had he been eavesdropping on her to collect some dirt to use against her? Or had he actually been interested in what she was doing? An inkling of a suspicion that her brother had some real human elements in his rap-rocked head crept into her consciousness. Maybe she could talk to him, confide in him. Maybe. No. Better not take a chance. She had enough trouble: what with the birds, her mother, and that girl at school. Better drop the subject and put some distance between them. "Well--I'll let it go this time, Alien. Just you keep your nose out of my business or--"

"Or what, little one?" he said as he pushed past her into the house.

Little one! Who does he think he is calling me 'little one'? I ought to.... It dawned on her that his voice did not have the usual sharp, sour snap to it.

Lisa was so preoccupied upon entering the house that she did not at first notice that most of the boxes were gone and the furniture was generally in place. "Hi, mom!" she shouted into the study where her mother was working at the computer. She listened and heard the usual warm greeting, a salutation to her children that Lisa had come to expect, to clinch the security of home at the end of a full day in the world. "House looks good. Anything to eat?" Lisa was always hungry.

"I bought some cookies," Susan said.

"Great!" she and her brother chimed. They ran their hands under the faucet, before her mother could tell them to wash them, then tore open a package of pecan cookies and contested over a carton of milk. One of the few things Lisa and Erik positively shared was a mutual and competitive taste for pecan sandies washed down with cold milk. He would not quickly deplete her supply of applesauce, but the cookies had little chance of lasting more than a day when they discovered them. And the two normally rivalrous siblings dropped their defenses to devour the sweet crumbly things, even allowing smileshadows to flit across their faces as they gulped the bubbly white liquid. Digger hurried to the table and sat vigilant for secret handouts or fallen morsels.

"How was the first day at the new schools?" their mother asked.

"Okay," was the dual response, accurate for Erik, evasive for Lisa. When she had gobbled up her share of the goodies, she went out to the pond and sat on the dock. She wanted to be alone.

Sitting on the weatherworn wooden boards, she looked between her legs and glimpsed the water beneath the slats. She wondered if there were any animals in the pond--fish, turtles, snakes. Lying on her belly while pushing away Digger's attempts to bathe her mouth for bits of cookies and droplets of milk, she peered through a knot hole to see if any wild things were visible. The water was dark and murky and she could barely make out the bottom. She saw nothing moving but some underwater weeds. The sound of the water lapping against the dock posts pleased her, though, and she relaxed with her chin on her knee. She scanned the pond to find the ducks but could not spot them. Maybe nesting. Ducklings. She remembered the goslings and smiled. Maybe the ducks would raise their babies on the pond. She thought of Erik trying to hit them with rocks. She would have to protect them from him and any other harm that might befall them. She would be the protector of the pond. Lisa liked the idea of such a role.

She had always wanted a baby brother or sister to look after and guide and shield from mean kids. Having repeatedly asked her mother if she was going to have another baby and having received only an uncertain response, the girl had given up hope. Now she had to reconcile her mothering instinct to tending family pets, but Digger was fully grown, had been since she was a baby, and she craved something new and needy in her life. Mother Goose. She clucked at the thought of the title and the knowledge of why she had acquired it. That is the reason she never made a fuss when her brother called her that name, much to his frustration. He had harbored great hope for that being a needle he could stick into her and he could never quite comprehend the smile on her face when he addressed her so.

Lisa noticed a butterfly flutter over the lake and smiled at the sight of it. She watched it zigzag above the water and hoped it would fly close to her so she could get a close look at its markings. She much admired the colors and designs on butterfly wings. A large dark one almost black with long tails, it was a kind she had not seen in southern California. She wished it would land beside her so she could carefully examine it. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I'm the Protector of the Pond." She directed her thoughts to the butterfly as strongly as she could, but the beautiful insect flitted to the other side of the pond and disappeared over the reeds. Either it had not read her mind or it had more important things to do.

She wondered if she was telepathic. On TV, people claimed they could read other people's minds. Know everyone's secrets. Fun. I could tell what the Queen Bitch was thinking and let everyone know it. She wouldn't be so smart then. She'd stay away from me too. Afraid of me. God! I wish I could read minds. She realized that in being able to do so she might not like what she read, especially if it was about herself. Possibly her friends, maybe even her parents sometimes thought bad things about her. Suddenly Lisa felt vulnerable. She laid an arm over Digger and slowly stroked him. He made a tasting motion, and his big, dark, droopy eyes looked at her. She stared into them and tried to read his mind. Not sure if his thoughts were coming through, she felt good anyway, so maybe the dog at least thought well of her. She believed he was able to think as she did and wished they understood each other's language to know if she were really a mind reader. That would be something the kids at school would find interesting enough to accept her.

Chapter 7

A Place of Their Own

That evening around the dinner table, the Tavenors talked about the kids' first day at their new schools and Susan's delight with her new house, but the main topic of conversation was Robert's job at the university. He had met with the chairman of the English Department and toured the campus. As soon as the summer session arrived he would teach two or three classes, and then in the fall he would take on a regular assignment. He was happy to find one or two of his graduate schoolmates teaching there also but made the mistake of mentioning that one of them was his old flame, Jesse. Susan was annoyed but more concerned for now with the possible return of the swallows to put much effort into knowing more about that unpleasantly surprising occurrence.

"Do you think those little devils will try to get into our house again tonight?" She addressed her question as much to Lisa as to Robert, well aware of her daughter's knowledge of the animal world.

Robert shook his head and started to respond, but Lisa beat him to it. "Just look outside, mom." She had been watching the windows in hope of seeing the winged sprites and had spotted them darting around the house.

"Yeah!" Erik shouted, hoping for another show of his mother's predatory skill. "The dirty little buggers are back, mom. Get the broom!"

Susan's eyes shot to a window and, when she saw one of the winged creatures, she yelped and snapped at her husband, "I hope you remembered to close the vent this time, dear."

He nodded assuredly. "Don't worry, hon--they'll try to get in for a day or two then realize they can't and find another place to roost."

"But, daddy, they want to be here," Lisa said. "They've been nesting here for ages and they think it's their home."

"Well, it's not," Susan said with the inflection of a tack hammer.

A momentary silence spread a gap among them.

"They'll come back night after night trying to get in," Lisa said. "It's so sad."

"Don't cry, Mother Goose," Eric said.

Lisa wanted to attack her brother but more wanted to defend the birds. "What are they going to do, daddy? Where can they go?"

"I know where mom wants 'em to go," Erik quipped, happy with his wit, but withering like a dried up weed when his mother seared him with a look.

"I don't hate the birds," Susan said. "I simply don't want them in my house. Is that too much to ask?"

"Of course not," Robert said, "and I know Lisa understands."

Lisa understood but would not leave the issue for another less highly charged subject. She was beginning to see it as her mission in life to make sure her family provided for the displaced swallows. "They belong here. I think we're mean to sit here and not care what happens to them. They want to make nests and have babies just the way you and mom do, daddy, and I think we should care more about their feelings." Erik let his fork clatter onto his plate, temporarily drawing everyone's attention to his action as a signal that the subject was becoming too hard to handle.

"Well, we can talk about it another time, Lisa," her father said. "Let's not spoil dinner by getting upset. Okay?" He bestowed his congenial smile on her, but she was not easily placated and only looked down at her plate and said nothing for the rest of the meal, only occasionally glancing out the window to see the birds.

As the others were droning on about subjects that mattered nothing to her compared to the welfare of the swallows, she thought about a way for them to have a home. She thought about letting them into her room at night, keeping them in the closet until morning, hiding them from her parents. Maybe. She could take the screen off the window, leave it open. They would come in; they would stay and raise their young. She liked the idea but knew it would not work. She would never be able to keep her family, most of all Erik, from discovering the hideaway. He could nose out trouble like a bloodhound, especially when it meant trouble for her. No. Never get away with it. Got to find another way.

She thought about the garage. No good. The car and stuff. She thought about the attic. No good either. Too easy to hear noise up there. Gazing out the window she watched the rising moonlight dance upon the pond, noticed the old shed dark and sad at the edge of the big yard. She stared long and hard at the shack. That's it! That's the place. It would make a perfect house for the swallows. Sure, she had planned to turn it into a clubhouse, but that was not as important as this. She had her own house, but the birds had nothing. Yes, that place would work fine for them. Maybe they're using it now. Excusing herself from the dinner table, she went outside.

The birds continued to buzz the Tavenor house, hoping for an opening. They had probably never known such an impenetrable barn. When a few of them flew around Lisa, as she was creeping toward the shed, she wondered if they knew what she was trying to do for them. As she stepped closer to the little building, she thought they seemed to follow her. Could I lead them to their new home? She wanted to see if they were already using it for shelter but doubted it, because none was flying about the shed. They probably don't like it. Most of the roof gone. Sun, wind, and years of rain had worn it away.

As expected, when she stepped to the window of the shed she saw no birds. Not even a bat. Certainly no owls. Maybe rats or mice, though, for she heard scurrying little feet as soon as she put her face in the window frame. Some animals had made a home of the little place, but not swallows. Lisa stared at the cobwebbed, cluttered floor.

She looked up at the moon showing through the opening of what had been the roof. Needs a top on it. The birds will come if it's enough like a house--a little barn for their very own. I can fix it. Need tools. Daddy's. Maybe he'll show me how to do it. Help me. Erik too. Nah. He'd be mad 'cause he couldn't use it. Maybe he wouldn't though. Too old to play in a clubhouse or a fort. Still, he wouldn't help. Wants to make my life more difficult than it already is. Who cares? Don't need him. Only daddy. Mom would be happy probably--no more birds trying to get into her house.

Lisa studied the little structure. Would it bear a new roof or would it collapse under the pounding and the pressure? Would it then finally succumb to a last blow to its integrity and fall to the ground in a heap of rotten wood and rusty nails? She knew practically nothing about building things beyond her science displays for school and she guessed her father knew little more. She had seen him in the garage at the old place, making flower boxes and things, even a doghouse for Digger. It looked good. Like a tiny real house, but Digger never moved into it, preferring to sleep on Lisa's bed and always howling when left outside for more than five minutes. He was a spoiled mutt. Still Digger's doghouse had appeared well built. Maybe her father did know something about making houses. The shed was only a bigger version of a doghouse. Excited, she ran back to her own house, the swallows zipping around her as if celebrating her grand notion.

The other members of her family were still sitting around the table, now arguing about whether or not Erik should go to summer school this year. He of course was adamantly against it, complaining that it would make him look like a loser and take him away from his friends during one of the greatest times of year, one that helped make life worth living. When Lisa called for her father's attention, he was glad to respond, weary from the argument. "Daddy, I have a great idea."

"What's that--Lisa?" He had almost called her 'peach' but bit his tongue before letting slip a word she had considered too childish to be applied to her since her tenth year.

"I know how we can keep the swallows from getting into our house."

"I think we're keeping them out now, aren't we?" he said without really asking.

She glanced at her mother. "Well, with my idea, mom wouldn't ever have to worry about them ever trying to get in again."

"What is it, Lisa? What's your idea?" Susan asked.

"Why don't we make a place for the swallows, a place of their very own?"

"How would we do that?" Susan was interested.

"Easy. Fix that old shed for them."

"The shed?" her father said. "Maybe they're already using it."

"No. They aren't. They can't--or won't. It doesn't have a roof. They need a place with a roof."

"I know how they feel," Susan said.

"But we can put a roof on it," Lisa said, "and then I bet they'll go into it and build they're nests."

"Hey--wait a second!" Erik inserted, "I wanted to use that shed myself."

"Oh, what are you talking about, Alien? You didn't care anything at all about it until I said I wanted to use it."

"Not true. I've had my eye on that old shack since we got here."

"Why? For what? Tell me!"

"Well, I, I could use it as a quiet place--to study--or, or to read a book or--to just be alone."

"Study! Read a book! That's a double load of BS, and you know it."

"Hey, mom, dad--d'ya hear the language comin' outta your daughter's mouth these days? Awful stuff!"

Before their parents could respond either way, Lisa fired the next volley at her brother. "You can be alone in your room. Or on the moon--or wherever you came from."

Instead of reacting verbally, Erik spread his arms, opened his hands, palms up, and looked the tortured saint.

Having put her brother in his place for the moment, Lisa ignored his melodrama and went after the subject again with her parents. "All it needs is a roof, daddy. We could put one on it easily."

"Easily?" her father asked with a grin.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so easy but we could do it, couldn't we? You know how, don't you?"

"Well, I...."

"You built Digger's dog house, and that had a roof."

Robert glanced at his wife and caught her approval. "Well, yes, I did--and a darned good dog house it was, even if I say so myself."

"It was a beautiful dog house," Lisa said.

"Digger didn't like it." Erik, fully recovered, tossed one of his little grenades into the conversation; then, when he saw the looks from both parents, immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut.

"Digger thinks he's human," Lisa said. "Naturally he wants to be in our house. He thinks it's his too."

When her parents chuckled at this, she knew she was well on the way to winning them to her point of view. Now, she was ready to play her wild card. "It would be good to have them nesting by the lake. Swallows love to eat flies and other flying insects, especially mosquitoes." She did not have to look at her mother, but wait only a tenth of a second.

"Mosquitoes?" Susan responded with widened eyes. "Swallows eat mosquitoes?"

Lisa's face brightened. She knew now she was most likely to see a roof on the old shed soon. If there was anything Susan Bradley Tavenor hated more than most any other torment on the planet, it was mosquitoes. In fact, she considered the omnipresent little bloodsuckers more of an enemy than snakes in the garden, wild birds and rodents in the house, even flies in the kitchen. To her mosquitoes was surely the Devil's favorite plague upon humans. During the summer, she would never let a window go unscreened or a door opened wider or longer than needed. She stored an arsenal of aerosols to fend off the little monsters. She made a hobby of collecting tips about ways to protect against the tiny vampires, trying at different times: citron candles in the air, tobacco dust on the skin, and garlic in the bloodstream. Her war against those bloodthirsty flies was always a hot topic at picnics. She had bookmarked more web sites on the subject than she had prospective clients for her graphic design business. She was planning to write a book on one hundred ways to stop a mosquito cold. If she had time to obtain another college degree, it would be for a doctorate in killing culicid. When Susan gave her 'maybe-it's-a-good-idea' look to her husband, Lisa knew her mother was most likely going to become an essential ally in the project.

Time for the clincher. "So--daddy, will you help me--please?" The girl had a way of looking at her father with puppysweet eyes that dissolved his resistance to any but scandalous or dangerous requests.

"Sure, Lisa. Sure, I'll help you. I've got some free time before the fall semester. Let's take a look at that old shack tomorrow and see what we can do with it."

Lisa flew to him with her arms wide as wings and encircled his neck. "You're the best father in the world," she cooed into his ear.

Erik made a sarcastic sound through his teeth and shook his head slowly at his sister's blatant manipulation. Susan herself had to grin with a twist. Robert ate it up, though, as if his daughter were offering him his favorite candy, which in a way it was. For the rest of the evening, much to everyone's annoyance, even a bit of her father's, Lisa chattered incessantly about plans for the birdhouse.

Chapter 8

Building It Right

The next day at school Lisa was so eager to start working on the shed that she scarcely noticed or cared about the other kids, including Brittany Sample. Having learned that absorbing work can make time seem to streak by, Lisa immersed her mind in her studies, an action which impressed her teachers and further annoyed the Queen Bitch, about which our girl was as unconcerned as if her nemesis were merely a lump of clay. When the last bell rang, Lisa ran home from school and shouted for joy when she saw her father in his T-shirt and blue jeans, already looking over the bent little building. She was so enthusiastic about joining him that her mother had to bar the door till Lisa changed out of her school clothes into a worn out pair of overalls. Not even cookies and milk delayed her headlong rush into the backyard to help her father.

"How's it look, daddy?" Lisa shouted as she ran across the lawn, Digger galumphing around her legs with that evergreen dog hope for endless play. But not even the sprightly mutt could distract Lisa from her current purpose in life. "We can fix it, can't we?"

"I think so," her father shouted back.

She stopped and stared at him. The concept that her father could not fix the shed, rather than would not fix it, had not clouded her bluesky outlook on the subject. Rather than say anything more that might draw a further suggestion of failure, she stepped slowly and quietly to his side and found what he was peering at--the roof, at least where the roof had been and should be again. As her father dropped onto his hands and knees and pulled back the long spring grass to look at the foundation, she did the same; as he stood up and examined the studs, she did likewise; as he studied the plumb of the walls, she did also. When he ran one hand over his neck as he often did while contemplating something, she watched and waited for his evaluation of the structure. She had renewed faith in her father and believed he could restore the shed to a semblance of its former integrity. She knew he could. Still afraid to say anything lest she jinx the deal, she waited as patiently as a twelve-year-old can wait for anything much desired. She counted the times his hand passed back & forth over his neck, as if each passage heightened the difficulty of the project. Then they came: the critically important words of whether or not the roof could be fixed. "I don't know, Lisa--" She felt her heart jump into her throat as if she had suddenly dropped into a hole. "It's an old shack, a very old shack. Maybe dry-rotten. Badly weathered. Frame weak. I don't know if it's worth fixing."

"Oh, daddy--"

"The whole thing might just collapse under us as soon as we try to climb a ladder, Lisa. I don't want to get your hopes up, only to...."

"I can handle it, daddy--if it falls apart. But we've got to try. It would be so good for the birds. Mom would be happy. We could have so much fun working on it."

He looked down at her, into her eyes amber in the afternoon sunlight, and smiled. "We could, couldn't we?"

She nodded so her blonde hair danced around her face. He stared at her. She was never prettier than when she was wholeheartedly involved in some activity. Her entire being radiated genial energy.

"Okay, then--let's take a crack at her," he said. "Oh, sorry. No pun intended. Bad choice of words."

She laughed. Lisa always tried to laugh at her father's jokes, intended or not, even though she infrequently understood them. They were the jokes of a man of books, verbal jokes that he enjoyed immensely, and that her mother responded to with more zeal than Lisa thought possible for such unfunny humor. She laughed, though, because she knew he was happy when he was joking. Using the momentum of the happy moment, she went straight to the heart of the matter. "When do we start?"

He paused then said, "How 'bout right now? Let's get the tools."

Lisa with Digger again bounding about her ankles skipped ahead of her father to the garage and his rudimentary workshop. "What do we do first?" she asked.

"Well, first I have to shore up the foundation. Then...."

"We."

"Then we have to make sure the studs can hold up the roof, secure the rafters. Then we have to take some measurements and order some wood. Maybe I can get some old fencing from one of these farmers around here. Better than buying new wood. Cheaper too."

Lisa nodded, her eyes flashed. "Then we build a new roof for the swallows' new home."

"That we do, my girl."

Together they worked on the shed for the rest of the afternoon, Digger sniffing around to his delight and lolling in the shade. All the while, he watched with apparent wonder at the two-legged members of his pack who labored in the heat of the day. He wanted to play and tried to stare Lisa into leaving the job and frolicking with him around the pond, but neither the girl nor the man gave him any attention. Not even Susan could have interrupted the workers if she had not appeared with a jug of chilled lemonade. "Can I get you two to take a break?"

They ignored her till spotting the dewy container then dropped their tools, grabbed the glasses, and poured the pale yellow refreshment over crackling ice.

"I hope you two will stop for dinner," Susan said.

"No danger of that," Robert said as he slugged the drink, "we're working up a nice appetite. Huh, girl?"

Lisa nodded and gulped the lemonade but kept her eyes on the shed, as if staring at it would make it magically repair itself. Robert and Susan exchanged looks about their totally committed daughter and nearly laughed out loud; an action the girl would not have appreciated, for to her this was serious business. A matter of life and death. "Do you think we'll get it fixed today, daddy?"

"Today?" He chuckled. "Well, no--I don't think so, Lisa. We should take our time to do it properly. We don't want their house falling down around them after the swallows move in. If you're going to build it, build it right."

"At least they won't have to hire men with a van to move their furniture," Susan quipped.

Lisa looked at her without immediately recognizing the humor. Then she added, "They build their own beds, too."

"Yes, they do, don't they," Robert said.

"Out of mud," Susan joined with a shudder, "but they seem to like them."

Again, Lisa looked at her, this time wondering how she, the woman who professed to disdain the sight of anything around her home wilder than a housecat, knew anything at all about swallows. Susan met her look and read her mind. "I'm not oblivious to everything that goes on in your life, Lisa. I know you did a report on barn swallows. If you remember, I helped you with it."

She had. Lisa was embarrassed to have forgotten that fact. "I know, mom," was all she could say as she drowned her chagrin in lemonade.

Just as the three of them were finishing off the beverage, Erik came around the corner of the house and saw them enjoying a treat without him. "Hey!"

"I haven't forgotten you, dear. There's a glass in the refrigerator."

As much as Erik disliked being called 'dear' by anyone, especially his mother, he ignored it and ran into the kitchen. As his mother followed him, she shouted back to the builders: "See you at dinner, guys."

Barely waving, they resumed their labor. Working without stopping till evening, they fortified the shack and made it ready for the finishing part. Robert stood back to admire his work. "She's ready for the roof. Tomorrow we'll finish the job."

"Can't we finish it tonight, daddy? The birds will want to use it."

He sighed, a little dazed by fatigue. "You're going to wear your old man out, Lisa. Remember, I'm only a college professor, not a super-carpenter."

Realizing she was being ungratefully pushy, she said, "The bird's can wait. I can wait. They'll be so happy to find out they can build their nests here."

"I expect they will. I would if I were a swallow."

She laughed and put her dirty hand in his dirty hand. "I bet mom's going to call us for dinner any minute."

"I think so. I've been catching the aroma for the last half hour. I'm ready. How about you?"

"Smells like macaroni and cheese." Her sweaty face gleamed.

"I bet she made it special."

Lisa suddenly felt happier about quitting for the day. She was famished, and her mother's version of that good old creamy dish with three different cheeses and onions, all lightly spiced with nutmeg made her mouth water. That was a meal not to miss. She started to run to the house then thought better about leaving her father behind. "Go along, Lisa--I'll put the tools away."

Despite his urging, she picked up a couple of things and ran them to the garage. "See you inside," She stepped through the doorway.

Robert watched his daughter disappear then turned to survey his workmanship. The shed looked much the same, except it stood on a firmer base, and the walls were lined up in a more nearly perfect rectangle. The broken remnants of roof were gone and the shack was ready for a new one. He gazed at his work and smiled. Not bad for a college boy and his kid daughter, he said to himself as he toted the remaining tools up to the garage. Not bad at all.

That evening the swallows again circled the main house, still hoping to find a way inside, but some of them also circled the shed. Maybe they sensed a new home in the making. Maybe they were merely seeking out any possible place in their urge to nest and make new swallows. In any case, they flew around the Tavenor property all evening, snatching flies over the pond and the lawn till nightfall when they roosted on the windowsills and eaves of the house and on the walls of the old shack. Lisa listened to them twittering in the yard till she went to bed, from where she could see the shed through her bedroom window. Their little vocal sounds reassured her and remained in her mind as music till she fell asleep. She and her father were eager for the pillows that night and slept the sound sleep of the physically weary.

Chapter 9

Vigil

The next day at school for Lisa seemed to drag on for decades, till finally the last bell rang, and she was dashing home to finish the bird housebuilding with her father. Trudging up the road, she saw him on a ladder propped against the old structure. "Daddy, daddy! Wait for me!"

His hair blowing in a light breeze off the ocean, he turned and waved her on, having become as eager as she was to finish the project. Like his daughter, Robert took pride in what he did, even the smallest thing. He was admittedly a perfectionist and wanted the rebuilt shack to stand for another hundred years. Not much of a carpenter, he made up for what he lacked in talent with accurate attention to detail. He would make a fine structure for the wild birds, a little building that he and Lisa would be proud of and want to show friends and family as the shelter they rebuilt together.

After stopping to make sure he would not progress too rapidly without her, Lisa ran into the house to change her clothes and reappeared in record time. Today was the day to finish it. Her father had found the lumber just as he wanted: old fencing from a neighbor glad to get rid of it. The wood was full of bent, rusty nails, but Lisa was undaunted. Grabbing one of her father's hammers, she locked onto them one by one and pried them out, screeching and squawking. As she cleaned a board she handed it to her father, who measured, sawed it, and nailed it to the structure. Before sundown, the shed had a roof on it, not a new cover, but one in keeping with its aged character.

Lisa and her father stood back and admired their work. "Look, Digger. Look at the little house that daddy and I fixed." The dog followed the direction of her pointing finger to the shed. Taking what he perceived as a cue, he promptly trotted through the doorless opening of the shack and lay down among the old, decayed tools. Positioning himself so he could look out, he let his head fall to his forelegs and sighed.

"Digger thinks you made him another dog house, daddy."

"Hah! He wouldn't step foot into the one I really made for him. Now it looks like he wants to sleep here. Must be a bird dog and not simply a mutt."

Lisa was delighted with the shed, the dog, her father, the day, her new home, and life on Earth. Her existence looked grand from that moment. Even school could turn out to be less a place of revulsion and abuse and more like her old school. She could hardly wait for evening and the return of the swallows to find this pleasant surprise she had arranged for them.

She was not disappointed. As usual during dinner, the swallows started zooming around the house. Gulping down her meal, Lisa excused herself with a full mouth and dashed out the door into the backyard. Finding one of her father's flashlights in the garage she headed to the shed, shining the light on it as she approached to show the way for the birds. To the pleasure of the young air traffic controller, the birds were also circling the shed. Crouching behind a bush, she watched to see if any were flying in the doorway. They moved so fast in the dimming light that she could not clearly see if they were actually going into the shed or simply flying around it. She waited and watched till her legs stiffened. Sore and impatient she crept to a window and peered over the sill; pointing the ray of light into the shed, she looked along the juncture of the rafters under the new roof. Small dark things appeared to be perching on the boards. Playing the light on one of the closer objects, she stared at it to see if it moved or if she could spot wings. When a dark thing landed next to the one she was looking at, she nearly hollered. Yes! There they are! I knew it! All they needed was a roof and they would make the shed their home.

Lisa wanted to sit there all night and watch the birds find their roosts; maybe she would be lucky enough to see them start building nests. She could spend the night there in her sleeping bag and keep watch over them all night. Her mother, though, would probably not allow it. A school night. One of those tiresome days of the week that so often ruined the best-laid plans of boys and girls. She stayed by the shed till late into the evening, and when her mother called for her to come in, Lisa asked her the question about sleeping outside, just in case she might approve. When she did not, Lisa was at least consoled by the possibility of sleeping out at the end of the week.

On Friday morning, she arose early and got ready for school ahead of schedule to have time to query her mother again. She tried to speak with smooth confidence, as if permission were a foregone conclusion.

"Oh, on second thought I don't think that's a good idea, Lisa. We've only just moved into this house and don't know what lives out there in the yard or even what the neighbors are like."

"Well, I don't know anything about the neighbors, mom, but I doubt there are any monsters in the area."

"I hope not. But there could be creepy-crawly things that might hurt you." She shivered.

Lisa knew her mother's classic expression of 'creepy-crawly things' meant she had really no idea of what creature might be living in their yard. The girl was not about to mention the likelihood of snakes, bats, mice, rats, opossums, raccoons, and maybe even a coyote traveling through their property. The lands around the house had gone largely natural. Lisa's best tactic as she knew from experience was to convince her mother that no real danger existed in the yard. Since the girl knew more about the wild world than the woman did, Susan tended to defer to her daughter's judgment even though she had nervous reservations about her child sleeping outside alone. Besides, she felt the need to show some wise motherly authority. "Okay--"

"Wonderful, mom--" Lisa was about to throw her arms around her mother when she dropped the other shoe.

"But only if your brother sleeps out there with you."

"The Alien! Mother, he'll bug me worse than the creepy-crawly things and he'll scare away the birds."

"Well, I'll tell him to leave you and the birds alone. He'll be on guard duty."

"Guard duty!" Lisa of course had designated herself as Protector of the Pond, a title that readily included the title of Savior of the Swallows and could extend to Guard of the Grounds. She needed no one to protect her, least of all her brother. She could take care of herself. Who did her mother think she was--a little kid?

"That's the only way I'll be comfortable with you doing this, Lisa. Take him with you or sleep inside."

"But--" The girl knew not to push it too far. She did not want to peeve the person with the power to grant her wish. "Oh, all right. But please tell him not to bother me." Lisa was hoping the Alien would not want to sleep outside, especially with his kid sister, but her hope was futile.

Erik to her surprise jumped at the chance to sleep in the open, even if he had to be with his sister. The plan meant camping out, and camping out was also one of his favorite things to do in life.

Friday evening after dinner, Lisa took her sleeping bag and a flashlight out to a campsite near the shed and prepared to bed down for the night. Erik delayed coming outside so he could watch TV. Taking advantage of the time alone Lisa kept watch on the comings and goings of the swallows, twittering with apparent happiness to be alive and free. She watched them streaking back & forth across the pond to catch their evening meal, their light-colored bellies golden in the dusk. She watched them fly into the shed and alight on the rafters. To her joy, she saw them bring bits of weed from the yard and from the shore of the pond mouthfuls of mud with which to build their nests. She watched them shape the little bowls, anchored in the angle of wall and roof. She knew they would soon be laying eggs in those nests and that the chirping heads of baby birds would soon be enlivening their new home. By the time Erik arrived, Lisa was in her sleeping bag and satisfied with her evening observations. "Well, Mother Goose--how are the dirty birds tonight?"

Lisa could not figure out if her brother was asking a sincere question or being sarcastic so she had to test him. Feigning sadness she said, "None of them are going into the shed. I guess they don't like it."

He looked at her, then at the shed. "No? Well, maybe they want to wait till they're sure it's not going to blow away or something. Don't worry. They'll come."

"Just kidding. Lots of them are in there, building their nests and everything."

Erik again stared at her, this time wondering if he should blast her for tricking him and wondering if he had revealed too much sentiment. But something about the vague look on her face peeking out of the sleeping bag next to him softened his attitude. He looked at the shed and listened. "Yeah, I can hear them in there."

"It's like music, huh?" Lisa said. "They're singing us to sleep."

This was too much confection for Erik. "More like keeping us awake."

She laughed. "You'll get used to it."

He did--soon after crawling into his bag and lying on his back to look at the nightsky. "Damn. I've never seen so many stars before."

Lisa thought to tease him but held it back. Instead, she turned her face skyward. "Me neither," she said. "We sure as hell never saw them like this in LA." He thought to tease her but also refrained. Together they observed the heavens in a few moments of awed silence.

Eventually she asked, "Do you miss LA?"

"Kinda. But I'm getting used to this place."

"Me too."

"How do you like your school?"

She was surprised to hear this question from him, having thought he never cared about her daily life as being too childish for a high school boy. "Aw, I don't know," she said. "Okay, I guess. Only there's this girl giving me a hard time."

He turned toward her and propped up his head on his arm. "Oh, yeah? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't know her."

"How do you know? What's her name?"

"Brittany Sample," she said with as much mockery as she could inject into the name.

"Sample? I know a Sample, well I don't really know him, but there's a guy at the high school named Sample, David Sample. Maybe he's her brother."

"Really?" She propped her head opposite his. "What's he like?"

"I told you I don't really know him. He's in special ed."

"Special ed?" Skullduggery was germinating in her mind. "Is he retarded?"

"Uh, I don't know. He's got some kind of problem--trouble learning or something. I don't know for sure. He's in my classes only part of the time. Goes to see a resource teacher every day. Kinda quiet kid. Nice though."

"What does he look like?"

This question expected an answer beyond the boundaries of Erik's self-image of sprouting manhood. "I donno. Never noticed his looks. Like a regular kid, I guess."

"Do the girls like him?" Lisa asked.

"How do I know? I don't think he has a girlfriend, if that's what you mean."

"Is he a loner?"

"Kinda. Like I said, he's quiet--and a little shy."

"Shy. Then I doubt he's Brittany's brother. 'Cause she sure isn't shy."

"Just 'cause they're brother and sister doesn't mean they have to be alike, ya know."

"I know."

"Look at us," he said. "Different as night and day."

"Uh-huh."

Another silence expanded between them like the darkening night.

Erik snuggled into his bag. "Well, guess I'll go to sleep. Wake me if a monster tries to get you."

She giggled and appreciated his light comment on their mother's extreme concern. "I'll do the same for you." He chuckled into his bag. "Night," she said.

He mumbled a word she could not understand but by the tone, she decided it was harmless. She too nestled into her bag. Listening for his breathing and for the last little sounds of the roosting birds, she lay awake for a while, glad to be there--near the shed full of birds, out in the open air, even next to her brother. Lisa could not remember having talked with Erik before that night. They had of course talked all their lives as brother and sister but not in this way, not as though they were friends. She pondered it.

Was this the Erik she had come to despise the last few years? No. What had come over him? Where was the superior attitude? Where were the barbs shot from long distance? He had actually carried on a conversation with her without putting her down. And she him. It was not exactly a long heart-to-heart visit but it was certainly more positively meaningful as a human exchange than anything previous in their siblinghood. Absent the rivalry. Absent the testiness. Absent the covert abuse. At least for the time. Maybe I've misjudged him, she thought. Maybe he's human afterall, not an Alien. If he is an Alien, he's a friendly one.

The night air for all its chill felt surprisingly warm and soothing. She turned toward her brother and looked at his bag. His head was out of sight. She stared in his direction till she forgot who and where she was and slipped gently through a soft, sweet, blink-of-an-eye journey into the next day.

Chapter 10

Sudden Fame

Lisa Tavenor went back to school on Monday with a whole different demeanor. She had provided a home for the swallows that were building nests for their young. Her brother had shown some actual humanity that he must have been hiding from her for years. With the strength that comes from achievement, she walked into her classes confidently. Even Brittany Sample noticed the difference, a change in the new girl that, being Brittany Sample, the Queen Bee, she saw as a challenge to her supremacy. As the wheel of chance always turns haphazardly, Lisa garnered special attention which drew her classmates to her and further antagonized Brittany.

It so happened that a guest speaker from the Audubon Society was visiting the classroom that week and was presenting a display about nesting wild birds in Sonoma county. Lisa attended to her with a lively sparkle in her young bird watching eyes, and when the woman finished her presentation and asked for comments or questions, Lisa shot her hand into the air and waved it as a signal of victory.

"Mis'ess Blanchard--"

"That's Miss Blanchard, dear--" the woman, who looked as rugged as an American pioneer, said, "and what would you like to say?"

"I have swallows nesting at my house."

Laughter erupted from the children, topped by cackling from Brittany.

"Do you? In your house?" Miss Blanchard asked condescendingly.

"Well, they tried to nest in my house, but my mother kicked them out with a broom."

More laughter.

"Oh, dear--"

"But she didn't hurt them, not really. They all woke up and flew away."

An explosion of laughter. Even Miss Blanchard had to stifle a titter. "Well, I'm glad of that."

"So I built a house just for them. Well, me and my father did."

"You did, did you?"

Lisa's head bounced up & down gaily. "They built nests in it and they're laying eggs and they're going to have babies soon."

More giggling now than laughter.

"I bet they are. Have you been keeping track?"

"Keeping track?"

"Counting them--the birds, the nests, the eggs, and the nestlings?"

Lisa did not let herself shake her head but simply looked a little sheepish. She had not thought about the possibility of having omitted any part of the procedure of taking care of the birds. Lisa thought her job was done and that now all she had to do was watch the babies grow up and fly away.

"If you'd like, I can--" The woman thought a moment. "And what is your name, my dear?"

"Lisa."

"Lisa--?"

As children often do not want to publicize their family names, Lisa hesitated but sensed a reward in doing so this time, despite the inevitable giggling from the likes of Brittany Sample. She bravely blurted it out. "Tavenor. Lisa Tavenor."

"Well, Lisa Tavenor--If you'd like, I could visit your swallows and see what you've done for them. Would that be all right with you?"

Lisa reddened from the flood of attention. "Sure. But I'd better ask my parents first."

More giggling around the room.

"Yes, of course--you ask your parents and let me know. Here is my card. You can call me if it is all right for me to visit."

Lisa took the card as if it were a major award and smiled broadly. In fact, she smiled for the rest of the day. Even Brittany's snide remarks and threatening looks could not drive the smile from her face. She was happy that day but had no idea of what she was going to experience because of Miss Debra Blanchard coming to see her swallows.

Wasting no time going home to tell her mother about the Audubon lady and her desire to come to their home, she telephoned the bird lady that afternoon and told her the good news. Lisa was quite pleased to hear that the woman wanted to come to the house that very day.

When Miss Blanchard arrived, both Lisa and her mother met her in the driveway, all three eager to see the nesting swallows, if for different reasons: Lisa to show off her handiwork, Miss Blanchard to see the birds, and Susan to bask in the light shining on her daughter. Needless to say, the visitor was overjoyed to see the little shack filled with nests. "Barn swallows," she declared. That's what they are all right. You have created here a little barn swallow habitat, Lisa. Good for you, young lady. Those birds are not as common in these parts as they used to be. Excellent!"

Lisa beamed. Her mother beamed. When her father came home from the grocery store, he beamed. Even Erik glimmered some for his sister. Miss Blanchard stopped in the Tavenor home for tea before leaving and told Lisa something the girl had not expected. The woman was going to inform the press about the swallow house, and on the next day or two a reporter and a photographer could be coming out to take pictures and write a story about Lisa's project.

I'm going to be famous! The young girl wanted to shout it to her family, the neighbors, the kids at school, her distant relatives, and most of all to Brittany Sample but she settled for understatement. "Really?" she said. "That's great."

For different reasons her mother, father, and brother showed substantial lack of enthusiasm: her parents because of the discomfort an invasion by the press could cause, and Erik because of a pang of jealousy of his sister; but they masked their misgivings with quiet acceptance. The press was going to call, and, when the news media want a story, ordinary people usually open their doors.

So the press came to see the birds, photograph their nests, and jot down answers to typical questions of human interest. The next day, Lisa's picture was in the paper; so was the shed that she and her father had refurbished; and so were the swallows. As soon as the evening edition of The Sebastopol Grapevine hit the streets, the Tavenor telephone started ringing. Lisa was instantaneously a minor celebrity.

Two days later, when she went to school, nearly everyone there treated her differently. The children stared at her almost as if she were a movie star. The teachers, staff, and even Principal Stanley King personally welcomed her to school. Her classmates gathered around her to ask questions and acquire a sense of fame by osmosis. Even Brittany changed her attitude toward Lisa but not for the better; when she saw her supposed friends cozying up to Lisa she looked at the new and now locally famous girl with witchy eyes. How dare this upstart attract such attention for a bunch of birds! In Brittany's overwrought mind, a comeuppance was taking shape. The new girl would pay for her celebrity but most of all for the audacity of attracting subjects away from the queen of the campus.

Lisa ignored the QB. She would not waste her time bickering with lesser lights. She had important work to do. Miss Blanchard had suggested Lisa write a story about the swallows and how she was caring for them in their nesting site, so the girl hurried home everyday to spend the daylight and evening hours in close observance of the birds. With her camera and notebook, she sat on the ground beside the shed and watched them: their flight patterns, feeding habits, nesting times, nest shapes. The birds got so used to her presence she could walk into the shed and look into their nests to count eggs without disturbing them. They zipped around her head as if she were related to Uncle Remus; they seemed to know she meant them no harm and was even providing for their welfare. In her observations she got to know well the sleek little birds.

She admired their silent, swift, aerobatic flight, nearly too fast for her eyes to follow. She tried to photograph them catching insects on the wing above the pond. She caught some of their insects and studied them. She sketched the birds sitting on the roof of the shed, delighting in their dark metallic blue feathers, their knifelike wings and long swallow tails, their tan bellies that flashed golden in the sunlight, their cinnamon colored throats. She listened to their calls, their soft 'sit-sit', their anxious 'zeet-zeet', their twittering songs; the budding young naturalist wished she had a portable tape machine with which to record them. She also climbed into the rafters to count the nests containing tiny eggs, and she was nearly able to touch the birds, so calm were they around her. She cheered every hatching, counted and named every hatchling. She watched how the birds fed their young, the quantity, and frequency. Followed the babies' amazingly rapid growth. She noticed the mated pairs and the parents' devotion to their young. By the time all the eggs had hatched, Lisa Tavenor had taken two rolls of film and filled ten pages of notebook paper with drawings and descriptions. She would make a first rate report for science class this year, she thought, and surely get an A for her work.

One of the most rewarding by-products of her success with the birds and her subsequent newfound fame was that some of her schoolmates desired to see the famous birdhouse. Children started accompanying her home to view the celebrated creatures and discover something of what Lisa had learned. Girls mostly, but even a few boys. She had not expected boys to be interested in birds, and in being so, they rose considerably in her regard. Maybe they were more than the irresistibly attractive yet obnoxious animals she had always considered them to be, and her recent pleasant experience on night watch at the shed with her brother further reinforced this change of her mind.

When Lisa made a preliminary report about the swallows in her science class, not only the teacher praised her for the project but also the kids in class actually applauded her. All except Brittany. She kept her arms folded and steadily scowled at the bird girl who had stolen her thunder. Even her starring role in the play seemed to fade next to the positive publicity this new kid was getting simply for having an old shack with a bunch of birds. She would tolerate none of this. Rather than confront her rival in person, though, and try to tear her down with words in front of her friends, which had been her apt and able ploy in the past, she withdrew from the circle of activity and bided her time till she could figure out a way to strike back most effectively.

Lisa was ignoring Brittany of late and so did not notice the look in her adversary's eyes that meant trouble was brewing. She was absorbed in the birds and in the newly developed comfort zone among her schoolmates. Her troubles with them were over. All her misgivings and anxieties about moving away from her lifelong home to a strange place in northern California faded away with the merry songs of the swallows and the sweet smiles of the kids at school. For Lisa Tavenor during that time all was right with the world.

Although she no longer slept outdoors to be near the birds, since she was confident they were thriving and not needing her personal protection, Lisa always stopped at the shed before dark to check on the baby birds. Because she could see the shed from her bedroom window she felt secure with the visual contact of it--the last thing she looked at before falling asleep and the first thing she saw when she awoke everyday. Good thing too. If she had not established that habit, she might not have noticed the frightful trouble when it came.

Chapter 11

Family Affairs

Lisa was so preoccupied with the swallows and her sudden popularity at school that she missed not only the threat boiling up in Brittany Sample but also the discord between her parents. They were talking less to each other. A change of behavior highly noticeable for them, since they had, as far back as she could remember, enjoyed being together and chattering amiably about one subject after another, till both Erik and Lisa would have to leave the room to find a quiet place in the house. Now, however, they were terse in communication and cold in contact. Normally a physically affectionate couple, to the huge embarrassment of both Lisa and her brother, they had become distant. At first Lisa thought she may have driven a wedge between them by forcing the business with the birds and she even asked them indirect questions to know if that were the case.

With such curiosity in her mind Lisa walked into the kitchen one day while Susan was putting dishes into the washer and spoke to her mother with a look on her face like that of Digger when he was trying to figure what his humans were saying. "Mom--" she said, inflecting the word with a warble of endearment.

"Yes, dear."

"How do you feel about the swallows?"

Her mother looked at her quizzically. "How do I feel?"

"Yes. Does it bother you that I made a home for them on our property? I know you don't like wild animals around the house."

"No. I don't like wild animals too close to my living quarters. I must admit that I had reservations about making a place for a bunch of birds to live in our yard rent free, but I don't mind. Besides, I'm proud of you for caring so much about living things." Feeling the need to reassure her daughter she reached an arm around her and drew her close.

Lisa did not resist the way she usually did to such affection. She was worried about her parents' behavior and did not want anything to come between her and them so she embraced her mother tightly.

"Hmm. Why do you ask, Lisa?" Susan kept herself busy with the dishes.

"Oh--I was just wondering. That's all."

Her mother looked down at her, wiped a hand on her apron, picked up her chin, and studied her daughter's eyes. "Nothing else eating you?"

Lisa shook her head to keep away the worry. "No. Only I noticed that you and daddy seem a little different since we made the birdhouse. And...."

"Your father and I?"

The lack of force to the useless question, the weakness in her voice, and most of all the use of the paternal word for her husband indicated to Lisa that she had struck a nerve. She looked into her mother's eyes. "Do you and daddy still love me?"

"Her mother dried her hands and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Oh, of course we love you, dear. Where in the world did you get the idea that we don't? We'll always love you."

Lisa froze. Something in the way her mother spoke those last four words chilled her to the bone, as if her mother had been going to tack on the words 'no matter what happens' at the end of the line but thought against it. The girl had to know more. "It's just that, well--" Lisa was not at all sure she should open a can that could contain a bunch of scary worms but she was not one to conceal her feelings. "You and daddy still love each other, don't you?"

"Still love--oh, for heaven's sake, Lisa--of course we still love each other. Where is all this coming from?" She was speaking words that should have been convincing but her eyes were revealing incompatible thoughts. Closing the dishwasher door, she turned on the machine. It started its low whooshing sound.

Lisa raised her voice over the noise. "You know--lots of kids' have parents that are divorced, and I...."

Her mother crouched to be at her daughter's level and look her straight in the eyes. "Lisa, your father and I love each other very much. We have--since before we married and we will till we die."

Lisa's warm eyes held onto her mother's irises like the pull of the Earth. She wanted to know what was going on in her mother's head that she was not revealing openly. She wanted to read some signal in the shine of her eyes or in the way they blinked but she could see nothing definite either to heighten her concern or to reassure her. Nevertheless, she made herself relax and smile; then she embraced her mother.

Susan Tavenor was elated as always to have her daughter in her arms. Such a situation happened far too little for her, being the physically affectionate person she was. However, when Susan looked beyond Lisa's head, and the girl could no longer see her mother's eyes, the lines around them showed a trace of something troublesome, something there that her daughter had actually perceived.

Susan was worried about her marriage and, to her way of thinking; she had good reason, for Robert had made contact again with Jesse, his old flame. He had not kept it a secret, and that boded well for Susan, so he was apparently hiding nothing. Still she knew what kind of woman Jesse was and did not trust her. The vamp had more than once joked, before they were married, about stealing Robert back. Now that he was in her territory again, she might be spinning a web for him, while he was totally unaware of her designs. And her fawning attention could flatter him into boyish befuddlement.

To Susan's annoyance Robert found the whole situation laughable, his way of trying to neutralize any suspicion. He showed her with ample kissing and petting, gilded by his lyrical way with words, that she was the only love of his life and would always be so. She, however, sensed in his ardor an outside stimulus. The man was definitely turned on by Jesse's flagrant appeal. Jesse knew it. Susan knew it. And they both knew that Robert knew it. Susan was angry about all that knowledge. A woman well aware of the world and human ways, she was too sensible to think for a nanosecond that any marriage was immune to the call of a siren. She knew that husband and wife dwell in a constantly delicate state, in a bond of the most sensitive weaving that could tear apart in a seductive wind if not tended vigilantly. When couples have been married for years with children, she had learned, the vigilance often wanes. Past relationships nag at the mind. Regrets surface and stick. Youth fades and with it beauty. Other men and women look increasingly attractive. Last hopes of retaining youth confound good sense. Sometimes, many times people fall.

Susan knew of this too well and feared it. She told herself that Robert's interaction with Jesse meant nothing but she could not help worrying about his human frailty. One slip and their marriage could be shattered like one of the glass figurines she kept on the mantel. Susan could not hide her concern. Not from her husband. Certainly not from her daughter who was so much like her. The girl was too astute. Insightful. Perceptive.

When their embrace loosened, and Lisa again looked into her mother's eyes she saw the liquid welling worry. "Why are you crying, mom?"

"I'm not crying, dear--I'm just so happy to have you for a daughter."

Lisa liked hearing that but was not buying it. Something was bugging her mother, and she had to find out exactly what it was or she would not be able to eat, study, or sleep at night. "Are you and daddy having trouble?"

Susan stared into her daughter's earthen eyes and felt concerned but curiously consoled. To keep herself from falling apart completely she decided to share her feelings with Lisa, young as she was. Better not keep her in the dark. Besides, she had a right and should know what adults go through in life. "Why don't we sit down together and have a little chat, Lisa," she said. "I was just about to make a pot of tea. Would you like some?"

Lisa was just beginning to develop a taste for tea, as long as it came with plenty of milk and sugar. "Sure," she said. She also liked the idea of sitting down to talk privately with her mother, an activity they had not enjoyed together often enough to suit her.

"Want some cookies with it?"

Lisa reinforced a nod with "Uh-huh."

"Sorry I don't have any crumpets."

"Huh?"

Susan laughed but it collapsed inside her the way jokes do when those hearing them fail to understand or appreciate it. "Oh--nothing. I'm only being a little silly."

Lisa smiled to hear that. Better than being a little sad. She watched her mother prepare the beverage--boil bottled water, tear out a tea bag, and set the flowered dishes on the kitchen table. She saw her mother as a pretty and graceful woman and hoped she herself possessed her mother's feminine qualities. Having recently entered the age when her body was looking more and more womanly, she was simultaneously becoming sensitive about her looks. To enhance the desired development she consciously in secret and perhaps unconsciously in public imitated her mother's movements and gestures, especially when she thought the woman was most beautiful, as she was when making tea that afternoon in the kitchen.

After pouring the hot water over the bag in a teapot, Susan set it on the table; then, grabbing a bag of cookies off a shelf, she tumbled a few onto a plate and set that between them. Lisa got the milk and sugar for herself. Sitting down close to her daughter Susan said, "There now, we'll let the tea steep and soon have ourselves a nice little afternoon refreshment." The initial distress in her eyes having softened, she looked at Lisa and smiled sweetly. "So--let's have some girl talk."

Not having previously been in such a situation with her mother, Lisa did not know what to say. Susan sensed that and broke the ice. "You remember your father and I talking about Jesse on the way up here from L.A."

Jesse. Lisa nodded. Of course she remembered and immediately wondered if her father were messing around with the woman. She wanted to ask about it but was afraid of the subject and more afraid of the answer. Her mother sensed that too. "Now, you needn't worry. Your father has done nothing wrong. Not yet."

Not yet! she screamed inside herself. What? Is he going to betray mother? And it's all a matter of time?

"This woman is--well, I think she still has a crush on him." Susan poured the tea.

At first she could not believe it. A crush on daddy? On second thought, Lisa saw the likelihood of that happening. She had always considered her father a handsome man. Women did seem to like him.

"She probably never got over the fact that he dumped her for me," Susan said, a glimmer of pride flashing in her eyes.

Lisa's evaluation of her father's attractiveness shifted to her mother. She had never thought of her mother as a raving beauty. Very pretty in a TV mom kind of way but definitely not one to draw men like bees to a flower. Now, though, since hearing some of this story, Lisa was beginning to change her mind. She stared at her mother to see if she showed some heightened element of attraction that she had missed.

"What? Are you surprised to discover that your mother could lure a man away from another woman?" Lisa shook her head unconvincingly. "Well, you should know that I was pretty hot stuff when I was a college girl." Lisa blushed and had to swallow down a laugh with a gulp of tea. Her mother ignored the reaction as predictable and went on with her story. "So, anyway, seeing Robert again has apparently rekindled a fire in Jesse. Your father, being a man, is basking in the warm glow."

Lisa had to ask the big question. "Has daddy...?"

"No, I told you he hasn't fallen for her." Susan bit off a small piece of cookie rather violently, chewed it quickly, and sipped her tea. "Have some."

The girl took a cookie and tasted it. Besides the sweet on her tongue, she could nearly taste the challenge on the tip as to how her mother could be sure that her husband had not already fallen for the temptress. That's what happens in the movies, and movies are sometimes like real life. She decided to probe. "Well, have they gone out on a date or something?" She bit off half a cookie and munched on it slowly to stay in tune with the mood of the conversation.

Susan chortled. The question was too piercing to find fully humorous. "No, they haven't gone out on a date--or something? They see each other only at the university. Jesse teaches there. Psychology, I think. Your father has bumped into her a few times. That's all. But it's enough to make him act goofy."

Lisa swallowed. "Goofy."

"You know--how we sometimes act when some good looking person takes a fancy to us."

Lisa knew. She had felt that way when in the third grade Brian Bascomb had asked her to be his girlfriend. She nearly giggled herself unconscious that day. She had certainly acted goofy then. Yet Brian Bascomb was a doll, nearly as sharp as Mark Stone, much younger, but a very foxy kid. "Is Jesse really beautiful?" she asked hesitantly. Lisa regretted having asked that question when she saw concern cross behind her mother's eyes like the shadow of a hawk over a field.

"She used to be."

Lisa considered this point of crucial importance. "Have you seen her--lately?" She sipped the sweet, milky beverage. It was soothing.

Susan shook her head and sipped hers too. "Not since our wedding reception."

"Maybe you should find out about her, mom."

Susan eyed Lisa with some surprise at her mature attitude and felt as if she were talking with one of her adult friends rather than with her young daughter. She smiled and said, "Maybe I should--" She sank her upper lip into the tea while pondering the point.

"Men are suckers for beautiful women, mom. You know that. And daddy's not made of stone." Lisa thought about what she had just said and suddenly understood a little more about her father's humor.

"Not all men, Lisa. Not your father." As soon as the last words escaped her mouth, she knew they were not true. She saw that Lisa knew it too. "He's got too steady a head on his shoulders to give in to some femme fatale."

"What's a femme fatale?"

"A fatal attraction."

Horror filled Lisa's eyes.

"No, that isn't right. We take movies too seriously. Femme fatale is a French expression for an irresistibly attractive woman who can lead a man to folly."

"To give up his wife and family?"

The question hit Susan hard, even though she had thought of it. "Well, yes--that could happen--if a man is unhappy in his marriage. But your father and I are very happily married."

Even at Lisa's young age she could detect rationalization and a hint of delusion. She smiled obligingly then decided to offer her best advice. "Fight for him, mom."

"What?" Susan stopped in mid sip.

"You've got to fight for the man you love."

"Now how would you know this?"

"I may be only twelve but I have eyes. I read, watch movies, and I see what's going on around me. I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not, dear. In fact, you're so smart sometimes you scare me."

That sounded good to Lisa, causing a grin to round her cheeks. She was on a roll. "Fight for the man you love, the father of your children."

That was too much for Susan to take seriously. When laughter burst from her, Lisa looked indignant. "I'm sorry, dear--" Susan said. "I shouldn't laugh. I know you're taking this very seriously. Maybe I should too." Lisa's advice, as movie like as it sounded, did impress her. Even though she was probably in no danger of losing her husband to that hussy, she would not be wasting her time by exercising her own womanly wiles on the man she loved. Without admitting it to her daughter, she was already making plans, while munching the last of a cookie and washing it down with tea, for an intramarital seduction. Why sit by and wait to see if her man could withstand the siren song? Take a desirable stand, she thought, and remind the man why he married me in the first place.

When Lisa heard the smack of her mother's lips and saw the determined look in her mother's eyes over the empty cup she knew she had struck home. She further understood from where she got her own determination. She was her mother's daughter. At that moment, there in the kitchen at the table over tea and cookies Lisa found a common bond with her mother that would last. Stronger than common gender, stronger than blood. They had found a kinship in their characters that rang as true as the consonance of two musical notes.

Chapter 12

Intruder in the Night

When she starred in Dynamite!, Brittany Sample was an even better actress than people had thought. She handled the role of the confident and beautiful teenage Katy Black remarkably well, even singing and dancing with passion and verve. She was a natural performer and could have a solid chance at a career on stage or screen, largely because she was a practiced actress. The real Brittany, however, was very different from the popular Brittany: a secret she kept from everyone at school. Largely because of her secret life, she had no real friends, certainly none that she would bring to her house. She was not ashamed of her disabled brother, David; indeed, she loved and protected the little guy. Although older than she was, his body was stunted like his brain and he stood six inches shorter than she did. Although she seldom mentioned him at school, she was not afraid to claim him as kin and fight to defend his honor along with hers. No, her brother was not the cause of her double life, but her parents. Brittany was ashamed of her mother and father. And with good reason.

Ted and Terri Sample were alcoholics. Not simply the droopy-lidded clownish type, nor the type that functions close to normal and can be discovered only by foul breath. Her parents were mean drunks--slovenly and cruel--especially her father could be violent. When they loaded up on cheap wine, which was nearly every day, they spat foul language and fought continually, the woman always getting the worst of it to the point that she had been increasingly pulling into herself the way a turtle does before a mad dog. They were mean to each other, but the worst of their behavior they directed at their children, especially the boy, maybe because he was an easy target or because they were embarrassed to have produced a defective child. Lately, they seldom attacked their daughter more than verbally, for she had learned to defend herself. Her mother had not struck her for months for fear of Brittany's temper. Even her father was pulling his punches. The girl was a graceful beauty but she was also athletic and tough when she needed to be. Moreover, she had a temper that could rival a thunderstorm. She looked like a juvenile goddess but when angry she acted like a fury from hell. Once, when her father was knocking her around because she had not been cooking his dinner fast enough, she threatened him with a butcher knife, and he backed off, resigning himself to grumbling threats. Consequently, when she was home, her parents usually retreated into their bedroom, and she was content for them to stay there, out of her way. She could take care of herself and her brother with no help from them or anyone else.

Understandably she had a heavy chip on her shoulder, a burden that she tried to shake loose by bullying the kids at school. She abused all of them with about the same venom but discharged more of her pent up poison on Lisa than on most others. Maybe she went after the new girl, because she showed a quality Brittany did not have and wanted. Maybe she resented the girl for not kowtowing to her the way other girls did. Maybe she was jealous of the sudden attention Lisa was getting for the swallows. Brittany had been taking care of her brother for years, but no one had written a story with pictures in the newspaper about her. Only Brittany knew for sure why she had singled out Lisa Tavenor to persecute but when the queen found out that some of her own entourage had visited the bird girl's house to see the nesting swallows, she imploded and sought vengeance on her. The most effective way she could think of to wake up Lisa to pay proper deference to the school queen was to hit her where it would hurt the most.

No one in the neighborhood noticed, when one night a solitary figure crept across the Tavenor yard toward the shed where the swallows were sleeping. The figure stepped into the shack and expected the birds to rush out of the building. When they did not fly away, having been used to people visiting them in their home, the intruder struck a match on the wall. Fire would scare them away. When the flame flared up, the swallows fled their roosts and nests in a flurry that startled the person. The match fell to the floor and flashed. The vandal tried to stomp out the flowering flames, but they licked higher and higher. Stifling a scream, the intruder fled, running across the lawn, jumping over a fence, and sprinting down the road. In the darkness only the brightening light of the torched building and a scrap of cloth caught on a fence nail showed any sign of the mysterious visitation.

Lisa must have sensed something unusual happening for she opened her eyes and saw the weird light in the yard. She lay there staring at it and wondering for several seconds at the glow growing into a fantastic bloom. For a moment before becoming fully alert, she marveled at the beauty, but marvel quickly changed to horror. Fire! shot through her mind. "Fire!" she screamed.

Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window and saw the birdhouse ablaze. Screaming she ran to her parents' bedroom, banged on the door, pushed it open, and hollered. "Daddy, daddy--! Fire! The bird house is on fire!"

Upon hearing that dreaded word he lifted his head to look and listen. "Wha...?"

"Get up!" she screamed. Hurry! It's burning! The birds! The babies!" As soon as the last word flew from her lips, she started to cry, screaming. "Oh, my god! They're all going to die! Daddy--we've got to save them." Her words trailed behind her as she dashed out of the room. Leaping downstairs, she heard her mother call out for her to stop but heeded only the panic exploding against her skull. Wearing pajamas, she flew into the backyard now eerily bright. She was wailing, "The birds! The baby birds!" She hurtled straight for the blazing shed, mindless of the danger.

"Lisa!" her father shouted from the back porch. "Stop! You'll get hurt! It's too dangerous! Stop!"

Her mother appeared and screamed. "Oh, God! Lisa! Lisa!"

"Susan! Call the fire department!" Robert shouted as he ran after his daughter.

The girl was not thinking of herself but only of the birds. She could not let them die after having made a home for them. She was responsible for them. She was the Protector of the Pond. Reaching the zone of intense heat around the blazing shed, she stopped, feeling the searing temperature on her face. Falling on her knees, she shrieked in anguish at the horribly certain fact of death before her. Through blurry eyes she saw dark shapes flying around the burning building. The swallows. They were out! They had escaped! Circling the shed and screeching frantically, their little voices surprisingly loud. Oh, no--they're trying to save their babies! Would they fly into the fire for them? God, no! Don't let them do that. "Dear god, please save them. Please! Please, God! I'll do anything you ask."

As she stared at the flaming shed, crackling and spewing clouds of smoke into the night sky, she watched her father send water from a hose into the flames, her mother and brother carry buckets from the pond. She stood stricken by the sounds of snapping wood in the heat, of hissing water against the coals, of birds screeching, of Digger barking and barking. Feeling helpless, she tried to aid her parents and brother fighting the fire while she watched the birds whirling around the collapsing structure. For the tiniest fraction of a moment, she thought she might have been dreaming, having a nightmare; the whole scene looked too bizarre to be real but more like a scene from a movie or one she imagined in a book. She collapsed to her knees with her hands on the ground and watched the disintegration of the swallows' home. She could not stop crying, not even when the fire was flickering down and only thin bands of smoke were uncoiling out of the ashes, not even when her mother crouched beside her and held her head against her breast, stroking her face and murmuring sounds to soothe her.

When the firefighters arrived and made sure the fire was extinguished, Robert joined his family on the back porch as they stood together and stared at the dark, smoldering remains of the shed. For several moments no one spoke but only watched the firefighters demolish the rest the shack, which the swallows were endlessly circling. Much to his later regret, Erik was the first to speak. "That was some fire."

When the firefighters had left the heap of watersoaked ash and charcoal, one of the officers inspected the site. After examining it for about ten minutes, he looked at the Tavenors and walked over to them. "You folks know how this fire started?"

They looked at each other and shook their heads, but Lisa fixed her eyes long on her brother then looked at her father who asked of the fireman, "How do you think it started?"

The officer glanced back at the shack then surveyed the faces of the family. "I'm not sure yet but I doubt it was spontaneous combustion. It looks like somebody might have set the structure on fire."

"Set it on fire!" Robert looked at his wife. "I can't believe anyone would do such a thing."

"There were baby birds in there," Lisa said, choking back her tears.

"Birds," the captain said. "Pets?"

"No. Wild birds," she answered.

He stared at her and suddenly recognized her. "Oh, yeah--you're the swallow girl, aren't you?"

She nodded and tried to keep her eyes on his but was too overcome by both self-consciousness and grief and had to look at her feet.

"Well, I'm really sorry--Lisa, isn't it?" She nodded again. He directed his message to Robert. "You might want to think about any reason someone would set fire to your property, sir. Lost some birds this time. Don't want any more tragedies."

Robert and Susan nodded and muttered affirmations. Lisa studied the fireman's face in the darkness to see if he was being sincere. Deciding he was, she returned her attention to her brother. When the firefighters left, their vehicles roaring out of the driveway, Lisa attacked Erik, her fear and sorrow having turned into fury. "You did this, didn't you? I know you did it. You hate the birds! You wanted the shed for yourself. And you hate me!"

"Lisa, Lisa--no--" her parents said and held her back from rushing at him.

"I didn't do it, Lisa," Erik shouted at her. "What do you think I am--crazy?"

"Lisa--" her father said quietly, "your brother wouldn't do such a thing."

"Yes, he would," she screamed through her spilling tears, "he's the Alien--" Weeping bitterly, she buried her face in her mother's robe.

An inadvertent titter arose from Erik. Ill-timed. Lisa screeched and ran into the house, to her bed, and sank her face in the pillow. Her mother followed her into the room and sat on the bed. Laying one hand on her daughter's heaving back, she said nothing until Lisa spoke. "The babies--they're all dead, aren't they, mom?"

Susan wanted to tell her anything but the truth. "I'm so sorry, honey."

As if waiting on cue for the pronouncement, Lisa released the final gush of grief that dwindled away like a distant call in the wild. Her mother remained with her till the sobbing stopped and even after the girl finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

When Susan returned to her bedroom, she and her husband talked about the tragedy. They talked of how they knew such events could occur to their children, how death was a part of life no matter how terrible it could be, yet also how they wished they could protect them from such incidents. The pain and misery of the world could be overwhelming and they wanted their son and daughter to avoid them as long as possible, to stay innocent, happy children for all the time that chance would allow. They also tried to find reasons for anyone doing such a thing but could not come up with any. Likewise, the idea of who could have committed the ugly crime totally escaped them. For nearly an hour they talked about such things before they too let sleep relieve them of their worry and sorrow.

The next morning was dreadful for Lisa. At the first moment upon awakening, she had forgotten the fire, but immediately, as if by torture, the memory jolted her mind. Afraid to look but compelled she peered out her window at the place where the birdhouse had stood. When she saw only the pile of charred wood on the ground where the shed had been, she started crying again. Then something inside her, something strong that even she did not know she possessed, flowed through her body and calmed her. She stopped crying. Sitting crossed-legged on the bed, she studied the situation and thought, believed that the swallows would come back to their house to build new nests and hatch new young. They would not give up on themselves; she would not give up on them. Their babies were gone but they could have more babies. That is the way living things are. Jumping out of bed, she ran to her parents' room.

"We're down here, Lisa," her mother called. "Want some breakfast?"

Lisa wondered what time it was. "Am I late for school?"

"Come on, girl," her father called, "you don't have to go to school today. We let you sleep in. But now you should have a good breakfast, because we have work to do."

"Daddy--" Lisa hollered as she bounded down the stairs, "Can we...."

"I'm way ahead of you, girl. We're going to rebuild that birdhouse and we're going to start this morning. I've already found some wood."

Lisa was not hungry for food but she was very hungry for hugs from her parents. Running into the kitchen, she threw her arms around them and held on for a long time. Looking around for Erik, she realized he had of course gone to school. "I was mean to Erik last night."

"Yes, you were," her father said. "But I think he understands, considering the circumstances."
"Want some pancakes?" her mother asked.

"I'm not really hungry, mom."

"How about some orange juice. Then maybe you'll get your appetite back."

Lisa was parched. Orange juice sounded perfect. "Yes, thank you." She consciously enjoyed the extra attention and felt she deserved it. She slugged the cold, tangy beverage and almost immediately felt better. "How long do you think it will take to rebuild it, dad?"

"I think we can have a brand new house for the swallows standing in a few days."

A few days. "How many is that?"

"About three or four."

"Do you think the birds will come back to it after all that time?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd know." He looked at her in the way a parent does when his child has achieved some worthy knowledge or ability.

She smiled at him. "I think they will. They know it's their home. But I'm not sure they'll have any more babies."

His eyes tightened. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see, I guess." Lisa nodded sadly. Robert paused for her feelings to settle. Then he asked the question that had been on his mind since the night before. "Lisa--?" She looked at him with lingering sorrow. "Do you have any idea who might have done this?" She shook her head and looked at her mother with a hint of hunger in her eyes. Susan took the hint and poured some batter onto the griddle. "Anyone at school--?" he said. When Lisa stared at him in some disbelief, he wished he had not asked the question. "Of course not," he said. "A child would not do such a thing." He thought a moment. "You were written up in the newspaper, though. Maybe a crazy person read about it and on some mad impulse...."

"Robert--" Susan cut in, "you're scaring us."

"I'm sorry. I just have to know who might have set fire to the shack. If someone did, he'd have to be a lunatic. We haven't been here long enough to make any enemies."

"I've never known anyone to dislike us enough to do such a thing," Susan said, as she flopped a pancake onto a plate and set it in front of Lisa.

Lisa looked at it. Something had suddenly displaced the initial hunger in her stomach, something that was making her feel sick. Susan noticed it. "Lisa--? Are you all right?"

At first she could not answer. "I--" A horrible thought that had stopped her breathing and sickened her stomach was coming clear in her head like an ogre in a nightmare. Brittany. Did she do it? Does she hate me so much? No. She would never do something that crazy. Impossible.

Robert and Susan were both ogling their daughter, sensing she had something to tell them, something she knew or guessed about the cause of the fire. They, like many parents, often had a way of knowing something was going on with their children without words. "Lisa--" her father said softly, "Do you know anything we should know?"

Lisa felt trapped. As much as she disliked Brittany, she did not want to get her into trouble, especially since there was no evidence that the girl had set the fire. She had to find out for herself. From Brittany herself. "I'm not sure. I have to think about it for a while." She wanted to talk to Brittany face to face, to confront her with the horrible fact, to look in her eyes when she responded. "I really want to go to school today, mom. Can I? It isn't too late, is it?"

"Well, no, it isn't--" her mother said, looking at her husband.

"I'll take you there," Robert said, "if you really feel up to it. I have some things to do at the university and I can drop you off on my way."

Susan glanced at him but immediately looked away before catching his eye. She did not want to bring up any other issues at a time like this. Robert knew what she was thinking and so kept his eyes on Lisa. "I'll get ready," he said and discreetly left the kitchen.

"Try to eat a little, Lisa," Susan said, eying her husband as he went up the stairs.

Lisa nodded and put a piece of pancake into her mouth. She chewed slowly while staring out the window to where the shed had stood in the yard. Brittany Sample. The Queen Bitch. A firebug? A murderer? Unbelievable. Despite her antagonism toward the insufferable girl, she could not see her doing such a cruel and scary thing. Yet, maybe there was more to the QB than she knew.

Chapter 13

Suspicion

Lisa was glad to get to school during nutrition break so she could immediately confront Brittany Sample. Finding the suspect at her usual post beneath an oak tree surrounded by her devoted followers, Lisa walked straight up to her and called out sharply, "Brittany--"

The campus queen had seen her coming and slowly laid her eyes upon her without revealing the slightest uneasiness. "Are you addressing me, LA?"

"I want to talk to you." Lisa instantly knew she was sounding like a parent but let it stand.

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm talking to my friends now. Call my secretary and make an appointment."

The girls around her laughed and looked at Lisa as if she had lost a championship, but she was undaunted. "We can talk in front of your friends or--we can talk in private. Either way I'm going to say what I have to say."

Brittany fired lasers at her. The queen was in a tight spot. Not wanting her cabal to overhear what Lisa had on her mind and not wanting even to hear it herself she was shortly in a quandary. Opting for privacy at the expense of her pride, she acquiesced. "Oh, all right, new girl--but this better be worth taking me away from my friends."

"You decide."

Brittany blinked at Lisa's nerve. The new girl's righteous attitude was most disturbing. The QB burned a look at Lisa, lifted up her head, and sauntered through an opening made by her circle as if she were truly the monarch of something somewhere. Lisa, however, was showing no deference due royalty, rather a cold kind of scrutiny. When they were out of others' hearing, Lisa prepared to throw the question right at her even though she was not at all sure Brittany had started the fire. Despite her uncertainty, she had decided to be direct, intending to catch her by surprise. If Brittany had not done it, Lisa could easily apologize and explain her ardor as resulting from the horrifying experience. So Lisa shot the question point blank. "Did you set fire to the shed in my yard, Brittany?"

"Fire? Shed? What are you talking about, girl?"

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about." Doubt began to gnaw deep inside her.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Well, I do. I know you've hated me since I came to this school. I bet you've been jealous of the attention I got for making a home for the swallows. But how you could go so far to get back at me, I do not--." She fought back tears.

Brittany started to show a sign of weakness at the peak between her eyes, so Lisa gained confidence that she was on the right track. "You did it, didn't you, Brittany?"

"I did not. Whatever you're talking about. You're weird." She tried to turn away and go back to her friends.

Lisa grabbed her arm. "All the baby swallows died in the fire, Brittany. I can't believe even you would not care about baby birds burning to death."

Brittany appeared jolted by electricity, her face paled, and her eyes started to water. Staring into them, Lisa was not sure if what she saw was simply anger or a glimmer of compassion that she hoped existed in this girl. She believed now more than ever that Brittany had started the fire; although, she still could not fully accept it. "If you did start that fire, Brittany--and I think you did--you'd better admit it right away, instead of trying to hide it and make yourself look even worse."

Brittany's eyes were drenched in fear, regret, and fury and were about to spill over with the unbearable weight of her misery. At the moment she was about to speak, the bell rang. Using it as a time out, she burned one last look of defiant denial into Lisa's eyes and spun around to rejoin her friends.

Lisa felt her righteousness fall limp inside of her. She wanted to scream at the girl an accusation that the whole school and the entire neighborhood would hear. She wanted to rush at her with both hands like talons and tear the truth out of her. She wanted instant retribution for the days of insults from this girl, for the deaths of all those helpless baby birds, but all she could do was stand there and cry. Hiding her face in her hands Lisa did not notice the other children looking at her as they passed, nor did she notice the look on Brittany's face as she walked by her. If she had, she would have known that Brittany was not without sorrow herself, not without pity. However, the Queen of the Campus was not about to admit to having done anything wrong. In her mind she had not committed a crime, for to her the whole event was a terrible mistake.

Both girls attended their classes for the rest of the day without speaking to each other, without looking at each other. Neither of them for different reasons could stand to do so. Brittany out of self-protection. Lisa out of downright rage. She did not want to blow it around the girl until she had absolute proof of her guilt. How could she prove it? The police? No, they would never suspect the beautiful Brittany Sample who could charm the birds out of the trees. Bad image. No. Not the police. Not yet. Lisa pondered the problem all day then came up with the solution. She had to find some evidence. The shack was burned down to a pile of ash and cinders, but maybe somewhere, somehow something existed at the scene of the crime that would point to the one who had set the fire and murdered the birds.

Lisa ran home to search the yard. She could barely look at the pitiful pile of black debris that had been the swallow's house but she had to be strong to find the culprit. The right of the birds demanded it. She was now not only the Protector of the Pond she was also the Avenger. With Digger at her side and a strong purpose supporting her throbbing heart, she methodically scoured the backyard of her home for some sign of the one who had done the damage.

Girl and dog found nothing at the immediate scene of the crime. Nothing around the pond. Plenty of footsteps but none to indicate the identity of the person who had made them. Still, the fireman had said that apparently someone had set the fire. He should know. But how? Gasoline? Matches? Lisa poked and scraped among the cinders. Nothing. How did he know? Deciding she could not discover anything in the ashes, she raised her vision to scan the yard around the gutted shack. She watched the swallows starting their late afternoon sweep of the grounds, and then noticed Digger walking along a fence. She saw him stop and sniff something then trot on down the line. Lisa walked to the fence and looked for the object the dog had been sniffing. Finding a piece of cloth no larger than a postage stamp, she at first ignored it, dropped it on the ground, and walked after Digger. Then something clicked in her mind and she went back to find the bit of cloth. Picking it out of a clump of weeds she examined it closely. It was pink. The color and texture reminded her of cloth she had seen before, the color of a dress or a blouse or a shirt. A blouse. Brittany often worn that color; pink seemed to be one of her favorites. Lisa put the fragment into her pocket and went back to the house. "Good job, Digger!" She rubbed his head with both hands. "Good work, boy! You might have found the evidence we need." Digger reared to his hind legs and barked then bounded after her into the house.

Lisa did not speak of her discovery at dinner but paid particular attention to her brother who was harboring resentment for having been falsely accused of burning down the birds' home. She felt the need to fix things between them. Drawing a big breath she said, "Sorry, Erik--for blaming you."

He glanced at her then looked at his plate, at his fork pushing aimlessly through the food. "I can't believe you thought I did that--like I'm some kind of pyromaniac or somethin'."

"I didn't really believe you did it--but I was so upset that I, well, you know--"

"No, I don't know."

Robert and Susan wanted to intervene in their children's trouble and smooth out the rough spot but they thought it best to see where Erik and Lisa would take it, see if they could work it out themselves. In silence they slowly ate but with ears burning for the conversation.

"Oh, by the way, I'm really getting tired of being called the Alien," Erik blurted out. "It's like you think I'm a monster. Maybe you don't mean any harm by it, but I don't like it. Makes me feel like I'm not part of the family." He dawdled with his food for a moment. "Sure, I didn't care about your precious birds and I could have used that shack for something else, I don't know--but I wouldn't have burned it down."

Susan looked to Lisa to respond accordingly, but when her daughter did not do so, she decided to speak up. "Of course you didn't, Erik. Lisa knows that. Don't you, Lisa?"

Lisa nodded into a quiet regret.

Robert followed his wife's example. "We're a family. Families stick together. Now let's forget about the unfortunate incident and finish our meal with a little cheer in the room. What do you say, Erik? Can you forgive your sister?"

Erik looked at him then at Lisa and nodded. "I guess so."

Lisa smiled and returned to her food, but something else was on her mind. She had planned on waiting till she had confronted Brittany with the scrap of cloth but she sensed this as a good time to bring it up, if for no other reason than to compensate for the mistake she had made against her brother. "I think I know who really did it."

The others stopped eating, except for Digger who always kept a hopeful eye open for a generous hand. Robert and Susan stared at their daughter and asked "Who?" at nearly the same time. Erik sat quietly and slowly shook his head.

"A girl at school. I'm not totally sure she did it, but I have a good idea--and some evidence."

"Evidence?!" Robert said loudly.

Lisa nodded and looked at both her parents. "It's only a piece of cloth, but I think I know where it came from."

"Where?" Again, her parents spoke simultaneously.

"I--I'd rather not say. Not yet. Not till I know for sure."

"Well--" her father pressed. "Where did you find it?"

"Digger found it on a fence in the back yard."

"On a fence! Let me see it--" Robert held out a hand.

Lisa fished the fragment out of her pocket and gave it to her father. He studied it but said nothing, then showed it to his wife. When she looked it over she said, "Could be from clothing."

"That's what I think," Lisa said.

"Whom do you know that wears pink, Lisa?" Susan asked.

She mulled over the answer to this probing question. "Lots of people really."

"Exactly," Susan said. "Boys and girls...."

"Not me," Erik said.

They all looked at him and said nothing. Susan smiled and made a slight bow with her head in his direction as if to say, "We know, dear. We know." Returning her attention to Lisa she said, "Since many people wear pink clothes, Lisa, how in the world would you ever know to whom this belonged."

"I wouldn't--except--"

"Except what?" her father asked.

"I don't want to say any more till I talk to her."

"Her?" Robert asked more loudly.

"A girl I know. That's all I want to say--for now."

Her mother and father looked at each other, uncertain whether to honor their daughter's privacy or press further to know the suspected culprit. They were about to speak, when Erik beat them to it. "Do I know this girl?"

"No, you don't, Erik," Lisa said. "Please let me find out for sure before you go talking about it all over your school. I don't want to make things worse than they already are."

He stared at her as if wondering if he should use this opportunity to get back at her for falsely accusing him or be the good brother and yield to her. He decided in favor of discretion. The lad knew not only which side of the bread was buttered but also covered with strawberry jam. He kept his mouth shut--at least for the time being.

Keeping her secret safe for now, Lisa wrapped up the subject with her parents. "Let me find out more. When I know something definite I'll tell you."

Her parents regarded each other for mutual confirmation of their daughter's plan and nodded in agreement. "All right," Robert said, "we'll wait and see what you discover. Be careful though. Don't do anything rash." Lisa looked at him quizzically. "You never know what someone can do if she--or he--feels trapped in guilt," he said.

"Besides," Susan added, "you wouldn't want to accuse anyone falsely." She glanced at her son to make sure he had picked up on this last bit of consolation.

He had, and so had Lisa who also looked at Erik. She would be careful but she would find the culprit. She owed it to the birds; she owed it to her brother.

Chapter 14

Accusation

When Lisa went back to school the next day to put her case once again before Brittany Sample, she was armed with what she considered a convincer. Biding her time till after school, Lisa hurried to the spot where the queen always stopped to chat with her court before going their separate ways home. As Brittany came through the gate, Lisa jumped in front of her, blocking her way.

"Get out of my way, bitch!" Brittany snarled.

Lisa would not budge. "I want to finish our little talk about the fire."

Letting a distressed look seep through her normally haughty stance, Brittany tried to step past her, but Lisa stayed in front of her as she pulled out the little piece of pink cloth. "See this, Brittany--" Brittany looked at the fragment thrust under her nose. At first, blood flushed into her face then quickly drained out of it. Lisa grinned with the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting hotter in solving the crime. "Look familiar?" Brittany shook her head and again tried to pass, but Lisa would not allow it. "I noticed you haven't worn that cute little pink blouse you wear to school so often, Brittany. What's the matter--is it dirty? Or damaged? Torn maybe?"

Brittany blushed again, this time with rising rage. "My clothes are none of your damned business. Now let me pass or I'll...."

"What Brittany? You'll hit me? Or maybe you'll set fire to me."

Brittany was struggling to keep her poise on the outside; inside she was sizzling. "No, I wouldn't dirty my hands on you. But I will tell the principal that you're harassing me."

Lisa stared at her to keep her dominance but she knew that if the principal got involved she would have to have a very good reason for giving Brittany such a hard time. Was she ready for that? Maybe not yet. Maybe I should talk to my parents first, she thought. Let them handle it from here. They'll know what to do. Yeah. That's it. I've put a scare into the girl. Now's the time for strategy. She stepped aside and let her go--for now. "Tell whoever you like, Brittany. I know you did it. I'm not going to rest till I prove it." Her own words surprised her. She really was not entirely sure that Brittany had set the fire, but the die was cast now. She had to follow through. "I know you started the fire, Brittany."

"I never burned down any building, Little Miss Smartass, I never killed any baby birds, and I never tore my clothes on any old fence. You just better be careful what you say about me or else--" As Brittany was sauntering toward her coven waiting on the street corner, she threw one last remark over her shoulder at her accuser. "As my daddy always told me: 'Never play with fire.'"

Lisa stood like a statue staring at her adversary, as she joined her circle. Maybe the avenger had pushed it too far. Brittany could be nasty, perhaps even dangerous. Knowing she could do no more then to prove Brittany was the one who had burned down the shed and killed the birds, she wanted to get home as quickly as possible to tell her parents what she knew.

All the way, in time with each footstep, Lisa repeated in her mind Brittany's words. When she was about halfway home, a flash went off in her mind. Old fence. She knew about the cloth--and the fence! How did she know about the fence? I didn't tell her. Only showed the cloth to her. Could have heard. She probably guessed there's a fence around my place. I didn't tell her. Yet she knew I found the pink piece of cloth on a fence. Maybe my brother told her brother. No. They probably wouldn't talk. Yet she knew. She knew about the pink piece of cloth caught on the fence. She knew!

Running to her house, Lisa was breathless to tell her parents what she had discovered, what she suspected now more than ever. If Brittany had burned down the shed and killed the birds, Lisa was not going to let her get away with it. She would tell her parents everything but first she had to talk to her brother as a preliminary way of testing the family attitude and to make up further for her reckless accusing of him.

"Is Erik home yet, mom?" she shouted as she pushed open the front door.

Susan spoke to her from the study where she was working on the computer. "I think so, dear. I heard him go up the stairs a little while ago. Hungry?"

"Not now, mom," Lisa said as she ran up the stairs. "I have to talk to Erik."

Susan appeared in the doorway to the study and watched her daughter reach the upper landing. "Anything wrong?"

"No, mom. It's okay." She knocked on her brother's door.

"Yeah. Whaddya want, sis?" His voice was hardly inviting.

"Can I come in?"

"Nothin' stoppin' ya."

Lisa entered with some care, having rarely visited her brother's inner sanctum, never at the new house. He was lying on his bed looking at a videogame magazine. Lifting it into a peak over his eyes he said, "What's up?"

Unsure of how to open the subject she stepped into the shallow end. "You know David Sample. Right?"

"You know I do. What about him?"

"Have you talked to him lately?"

He laid the magazine aside and put his hands beneath his head. "We don't talk, Lisa. I told you--he's...."

"I know but I thought you might have...."

"Whaddya gettin' at?"

She sat timidly on the end of his bed, on the very edge, and was considerably uncomfortable. "You remember how I said something about having an idea who burned down the swallow house?" He did not respond to the sore subject, but the look in his eye tacitly signaled her to continue. "Well, I have an even better idea now who did it."

He sat up onto his elbows. "Yeah? Who?"

"Brittany Sample."

"David's--? Naw. I figured you thought it was her, but I don't think she would--" Something instantly occurred to him that changed the course of his comment. "How do you know?"

"I don't know--for sure. But I'm almost positive she did it."

"Why would she--?"

"Because she hates me."

"Hates you!"

She nodded. "And she might have been jealous of all the attention I was getting about the birds."

He contemplated this with other information in his mind. "Why would she hate you?"

"I don't know. I really don't. I haven't been mean to her or anything. Yet ever since I started at that school she has been treating me like dirt."

He was silent in thinking. "Why would she be jealous of you? She's one of the most popular girls in the school, isn't she?"

"Yes. I don't really get her attitude. She's beautiful, talented--everyone idolizes her."

"Do you?"

"No." She put a little twist of indignation onto the word. "I think she's obnoxious."

"Obnoxious." He grinned.

She guessed what was on his mind but decided to let it go. No sense getting into an argument with her brother over who was the most obnoxious. She had already caused enough trouble between them. "I guess I envied her a little when I first got to the school. She seemed to be friends with everyone, and I didn't know a soul. But I don't feel that way anymore."

He studied her. "So whaddya want from me?"

"I just wondered if you had mentioned to her brother about the fire and the piece of cloth I found."

"I told you I don't talk to him."

"Did you tell any of his friends?"

He started to shake his head but remembered that he had talked about it with a boy who knew the Samples. "Hey! What's with the third degree?"

"I'm sorry, Erik--but I need to know if anyone told Brittany Sample about the piece of pink cloth I found on the fence."

"Well, I might have mentioned it to Danny Ortiz who lives near the Samples but...."

"I'm not mad at you for talking to him about it. I just want to know, because if anyone told Brittany, then my theory is dead."

"I doubt Danny would have told Brittany."

"Why?"

"He says she's a bitch. Calls him a dork."

She snickered. "She thinks almost everyone's a dork. But could he have talked to her brother?"

"I doubt it. None of us talk to David." He looked self-conscious and a little sad. "Poor guy. Seems nice too."

Lisa stared at her brother as if she had never noticed the color of his eyes.

"Shy and skittish but nice," he added. "So what if nobody told Brittany about that scrap of cloth? What does it prove?"

"Nothing for sure. But she knew about it. If nobody told her, how did she know?"

He grunted an acknowledgement of her point.

"I think that piece of cloth that Digger found probably came from one of Brittany's blouses--a pink one she used to wear a lot."

"Used to?"

"I haven't seen it on her for a couple of days--ever since the fire."

"Maybe it's only dirty."

"Yeah, dirty and torn."

He bent toward her. "Be careful, girl. It's not nice to accuse innocent people."

She blushed and started to apologize again for having blamed him but let it go to stay on track. "I'm going to tell mom and dad what I found out."

"Did you talk to Brittany? Ask her if she did it?"

"Yes. And of course she denied it."

"Maybe she's telling the truth." His voice lacked conviction, and the look in his eyes made Lisa want to know more.

"The thing that bugs me is why she would do such a terrible thing," she said. "We weren't that big of enemies. It's like she went crazy or something."

He looked down in silence.

"Do you have any idea why she acts that way? Is it because of her brother?"

"I don't think so. I think it's bigger than that."

She waited for him to continue, but he did not, so she asked more questions: "Bigger? How?"

"I hear she has a tough time at home."

Lisa was all ears. "Tough time?"

"I hear her parents are crazy and they beat their kids, mostly David. He's been out of school more times than anyone."

"Beat their kids! Beat Brittany?"

"I don't know. Whatever--something like that could be making her crazy, especially since she seems to watch out for her brother so much. I'm not sure. It's only what I heard. Maybe it's all BS."

Lisa slid off the bed and walked around the room, her mind racing. "That could make her crazy. It would make me go nuts too. Wouldn't it you?"

He nodded. "Sure would. We're pretty lucky I guess."

"Yeah," she said. They looked at each other in silence till becoming self-conscious. "Well, I'm going to talk to mom." She started to leave the room then turned back to her brother. "Thanks."

"No problem." He watched her leave then stared at the ceiling for a moment before returning to his magazine.

Lisa knew not to interrupt her mother when she was working at the computer but guessed she would not mind in this case. Just to make sure not to annoy her, Lisa stopped in the doorway and waited. Susan was working on a very meticulous graphic design for a web site. Sensing her daughter behind her, she stopped, turned to look at her, and spoke with a hint of impatience in her voice. "What is it, dear?"

"Sorry to bother you, mom--but it's really important."

"I'm listening."

"I'm pretty sure now who burned down the swallow house."

"Her mother forgot about her work and gave full attention to her daughter. "You're pretty sure."

"I'm almost positive."

"That girl at school?"

"Yes."

"Have you confronted her?"

"Yes."

"Did she admit it?"

"No."

"Then how do you know she did it, Lisa?"

"Remember that piece of cloth Digger found on our fence?"

"I remember you mentioning it."

"Well, I'm nearly certain it came from one of her sweaters."

"Nearly. Lisa, to make such a serious accusation you have to be absolutely certain."

"I--I am absolutely certain. Only I don't know if I can prove it."

"Then I don't know what we can do--"

"Can't we at least tell the police?"

Susan considered this a moment. "We could. Let's see what your father thinks. He went to get more materials to rebuild the shed but he'll be home soon. Then we can discuss this together and decide the best action to take. Okay?"

It was not okay. Lisa did not want to wait. She wanted swift and sharp justice for the deaths of those baby birds and she tried to object, but when her mother cut off her objection, she knew had no choice but to wait. So she walked out to the back yard, petted Digger, and wandered to the burn site. The charred wood was gone and the ground raked clean of debris. Only the dark soil bore the sign of the calamitous fire. She stared at the site and gazed around the yard. The sight of the swooping swallows, starting to seek their evening meal reassured her. If only I could find more, she thought. "Digger, sniff around the yard and find some more evidence." The dog only stood staring at her and twisting his head to one side, the way dogs do in trying to understand people. "Oh, that's all right, Digger." She rubbed his shoulders. "You already helped a lot. I just hope daddy wants to do something about it." Can't let her get away with--with murder, she thought. That's what it was. Just as if she'd killed one of us. She murdered those babies in their beds. Lisa started to weep softly, quietly, her tears dropping onto the ashen ground.

"Hey--Lisa!" her father called from the driveway. "Ready to rebuild the shed?"

Lisa waved, wiped her eyes, and ran to him. She was very eager to rebuild the swallow house but she also had the pressing matter of retribution to settle. "Sure, dad--but I want to talk to you about something first."

"What?" he asked while unloading lumber and a sack of nails.

"Maybe we should all talk about it inside," Susan said from the back doorway.

Robert looked at her, then at Lisa. "Oh. I see. Something important?"

"Very," Lisa said as she accompanied him into the house.

At the kitchen table Robert and Lisa sat, while Susan opened three cans of juice. "Lisa has more to tell us about the one she thinks might have started the fire."

Lisa shot a look at her mother that contradicted her objective remark, which she promptly countered to her father. "I know the one who did it. This girl at school."

"You know!" he said with much surprise.

"Yes. She's in all my classes."

"The one who wears pink clothes?" he asked.

Lisa hoped he was on her wavelength. "Yes. But she hasn't worn this one blouse for a couple of days. I know that doesn't really mean anything, but I also know this girl. She's mean." Her parents looked at each other skeptically. "When I asked her about it," Lisa said, "she acted strange."

"Did you accuse this girl, Lisa?" her father asked concernedly. Lisa nodded slightly and sipped from her juice, knowing that she had possibly stepped over a line. "Lisa, you should've talked with us first," he said. "It's not right to go around accusing people of criminal acts."

"I had to, daddy--or she would have gotten away with it. No one else was doing anything to find the person who started the fire and murdered those babies." To her regret, she started to cry. "I had to do something."

Susan laid her hand on the side of her daughter's face. Her father lowered his voice. "I know you meant to do the right thing, Lisa. But--" He stopped to ponder the situation. "Now, we have to take some action one way or another."

"What do you mean--?" Lisa asked.

"I mean we have to decide whether or not to accuse this girl formally or apologize to her and hope her parents don't come after us."

"Come after us. What could they do?"

"Lisa, do you know what slander is?"

She nodded but she was not sure.

"Did you accuse this girl in front of anyone else? Did anyone else hear you? Did you tell anyone else of your accusation?"

"No. No one--except Erik."

"Erik," he said.

"Oh, because you wanted to make up for...." Susan said.

"Yeah, partly--but mostly because he knows something about this girl."

"We'd better get Erik in on this then," Susan said. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called for the boy.

Already having overheard some of the conversation he bounded down the steps. "What's goin' on?" he asked as he opened a juice and sat at the table. "You gonna call the cops?"

This question rather stunned Robert and Susan but excited Lisa. "I think we should," she nearly shouted.

"Hold on now," Robert said. "Before we go running to the police we'd better be fairly certain we have a case against this girl. So then, Lisa--who is she?"

Lisa took a deep breath before speaking. "Her name's Brittany Sample and she's been giving me a hard time since I started at the school and she might have been jealous of me getting my picture in the paper, and the piece of cloth probably came from one of her blouses, and she acted real funny when I told her I thought she...."

"Okay, okay--take it easy--" her father said raising his hand. Tell us your story slowly and in detail."

Lisa recounted her relationship with Brittany from her earliest days at school, through the publicity about the swallows, to confronting her with the piece of torn cloth. Her parents listened carefully then looked at Erik. "What do you know about this, son?" his father asked him.

"Me. I don't know the chick. Her brother goes to my school. He's a re--I mean he's in special ed. I hear there's something screwy about their parents. That's all I know."

"Their parents," Susan said. "What about their parents?"

"I hear they're alkies or somethin' and that they beat their kids--Brittany's brother David anyway."

"Beat them!" Robert and Susan said in loud duet.

Susan turned to Lisa. "Do Brittany's parents beat her?"

Lisa shrugged. "I don't know, mom. I never heard about this till Erik told me."

"How do you know all this, Erik?" his father asked.

"I don't know for sure, but David's been absent a lot, and this friend of mine, Danny--he lives near them and he tells me stuff."

Robert and Susan looked at each other for a sign of what they should do next. "Well," he said, "None of this proves that Brittany set the fire, but I guess we should look into it."

"Are ya gonna call the cops?" Erik asked.

Robert and Susan checked each other visually. "I guess we should at least talk to them," Robert said. "According to the fire department, someone might have set the fire, and, if so, we have to find out who it was to prevent further damage to property--ours or anyone else's. If this girl, Brittany, did it, then the law should take appropriate action."

"If not?" Susan asked.

"If not--well," he replied, "then we'll just have to go from there. Maybe we'll never find the guilty party. I don't know."

"Never?" Lisa actually shouted this time.

"All we can do is try, Lisa," he said. "And we have to let the law take its course."

"I know how you feel about those poor little birds, Lisa," her mother said, touching her arm. "But we mustn't let ourselves be vengeful, especially if the wrong person gets hurt by it."

"I'll call the police right away," Robert said. "Hopefully they can find out something definite."

Lisa knew she had played out her hand and saw no further action but to leave it to her father for now, but she wished she could have been more convincing, especially now that the police would be talking to Brittany. Lisa did not hate the girl and actually wished she had not done the horrible deed, wished it had actually been some madman who had wandered through the yard and set fire to the shed for no particular purpose but to see flames licking into the night sky. She had started the process of incrimination, though, and had no choice but to see whom it caught.

That afternoon Robert talked on the telephone to the police, who came right to the house. Lisa observed carefully how they questioned her father and mother, how they examined the crime scene, how they put the scrap of cloth as evidence into a plastic bag, how they wrote down the name of Brittany Sample.

As soon as the police car rolled out of the driveway, she became nervous. The ball was rolling now, and Lisa wanted passionately to see the one it would knock over. If she was right, Brittany would be arrested soon; if wrong, Brittany would be coming after her with a royal vengeance of her own. After mulling over the decision, Lisa decided she had acted correctly. In any case she could do nothing about it now. Only wait and see what the police discovered.

Chapter 15

Suspension

Lisa rejoiced when she and her father commenced rebuilding the swallow house. Even Erik pitched in occasionally. The task was more difficult this time, though, since they had to work from the ground up, and Robert had to refer to people at the lumberyard and at the hardware store as well as the internet for advice on building a shed practically from scratch. He was no carpenter but he was methodical and he liked to make things, so by the end of the next day he, Lisa, and Erik had cleared the foundation of debris and raised the frame. On the following day, Robert nailed on the siding and started the roof. Not having to install wiring or plumbing, they progressed with the task rather quickly. While they worked into the evening, the swallows buzzed them as if, in Lisa's way of thinking, to urge them on. By the third day, Robert and his daughter were putting on the finishing touches: they painted the little shack the same beige color as their house and nailed a plaque over the doorway in which he had etched three words Lisa had chosen to name the structure. She painted the sign dark blue and the lettering light brown--the colors of the birds. When the two finished the swallows' new home, they called for Susan and Erik to join them in a celebration. Sharing a bottle of sparkling cider, they congratulated themselves and each other on the improved appearance of the new house, far more handsome than the old shed.

"I christen thee--House of Swallows," Lisa said triumphantly as they quaffed the last of the bubbly beverage.

"Now--" Erik said, "Throw the bottle at it."

Robert and Susan started to object and did not laugh at the remark till they knew that Lisa was only pretending to follow her brother's direction. "Now that we've made them such a beautiful new home," Lisa said, "I hope they come back to it and rebuild their nest and make new families."

Unsure if the birds would return or not, the others could say nothing definitely encouraging other than the usual well wishes. They knew as well as Lisa that it all depended on the swallows and their habits, so they would simply have to wait and see. Lisa had been waiting a lot lately, what with the arson investigation and all, and she could barely wait for the birds to come back to their new shelter. Although she had seen them zooming around the yard and catching insects over the pond every evening since the fire, and even though she saw them that day too, as they made their usual sorties for meals on the wing, she would have to observe them fly into the new shed, roost there, and lay eggs to know if they would accept it as their home.

That evening the Tavenor family at dinner chattered about a lot of things: the work just completed, the satisfaction one gets from working with one's hands, the hope for the swallows' return, plans for other structures in the yard, a small boat for the pond, and other unifying topics that kept the conversation self-generating. Lisa too was pleased to participate in the discussion but she had two other unresolved subjects on her mind: one, the question of whether or not the swallows would return; the other, a topic she did not want to bring up at such a time. But she wondered privately how Brittany would act toward her at school, especially if the police had questioned her. Indeed, she wondered about the two subjects all evening. While in bed, as she kept watch for any sign of birds flying into the shed, she continued to think about the QB's reactions. When she awoke in the morning, it was almost the first thing on her mind. Almost. Primarily she wanted to know about the swallows.

As soon as she opened her eyes, she jumped out of bed, climbed down the tree outside her bedroom, and ran into the fresh morning air to see if the birds had slept in their new home. Creeping slowly through the bushes and holding onto Digger, she stepped slowly and quietly toward the shed and peeked into the nice new window frame her father had made. She peered into the still dark interior and listened but neither heard nor saw a thing. Her chin fell to the sill. No birds. No nests. Not a sign of them. Not a sound. Had they avoided the new house, because it was strange to them? Had they tried to roost in it but were too afraid of another fire? Would they ever again brave the little building and make it their home? Lisa felt like crying and would have, if her mother had not called her. "Lisa, honey--come on inside and get ready for school. You might be late."

Wiping her eyes, Lisa ran back to the house, past her mother in the doorway and up the stairs to her room. Standing in the middle of the floor, she decided she would be tough no matter what happened. She would get ready for school, eat breakfast, and face whatever Brittany put in front of her. Then she would come home and watch for the swallows till dark and she would look for them every night till they returned, as she believed they would.

When Lisa walked onto the school grounds that morning, her wonder about Brittany's reaction quickly ended. The girl flew at her in a fury, the force of which nearly rocked Lisa back on her heels. "You called the cops on me, didn't you, you little bitch?"

Lisa stood her ground. "No, but my father did."

"Yeah, because you told him I was the one who burned down your stupid bird house, didn't you?"

"Yes." Lisa spit the word at her.

Brittany lashed her hand across Lisa's face so hard it knocked her down. She lay on the sidewalk only briefly shocked by the blow. In a flash she jumped to her feet and rushed at Brittany, their books flying onto the grass. Brittany took the full force of Lisa's attack in her belly and fell backward into some bushes.

"Fight! Fight!" Someone shouted, and a crowd of children quickly gathered around them. The two girls thrashed among the bushes, Brittany trying to strike more blows, Lisa trying to block them. Fortunately Brittany's rage, combined with the instinct to avoid serious harm and the bushes, prevented any serious damage before a teacher arrived and broke up the fight.

Taking both of them to the office, the teacher asked the girls what they were fighting about, but neither answered. "Fine--" the teacher said, "I'll let the principal deal with you."

In Principal King's office, neither Brittany nor Lisa would speak right away, sticking to a common kid code of silence in the face of trouble. When Mister King picked up the telephone to call their parents, Brittany opened up with her best defense--attack. "She called the cops on me for something I didn't do."

The principal's right brow arced. "Is that right, Miss Tavenor? Did you call the police about Miss Sample?"

"My father did."

"Your father. Why? What is your complaint against Miss Sample?"

"Miss Sample is a criminal and a liar."

Mister King leaned over the desk and stuck his face at the accusing girl. "What?"

"She burned down my bird house and killed a bunch of baby birds."

"A bird house?"

"Not a regular bird house. It was an old shed we fixed up for swallows."

"Oh, the swallows! I remember. You're the girl who made a home for the barn swallows after you found them in your house." He started to smile.

"Yes and she murdered them."

"Hey! Wait just a minute, Miss Tavenor. You must be careful about accusing people of a serious crime. Now, why don't you both calm down and tell me the story. But I must warn you--I will have to call your parents. They should know about this."

"Mine know all about it," Lisa said and looked at her adversary.

Brittany did not meet her eyes but kept them on the principal. "Mister King--you know I wouldn't do such a thing. This girl is just trying to get me in trouble because she's probably jealous--or maybe she's crazy."

The principal, appearing to consider the plausibility of at least part of such an explanation, looked to Lisa for more information. "Go on, dear."

Lisa weighed the situation and guessed that she might be out-numbered. "I'd rather wait till my parents get here, Mister King."

He studied her, then Brittany, and then said, "Fine. Let's call them right now."

Lisa could see through the corner of her eye that Brittany was not at all comfortable with this turn of events. "My parents aren't home," Brittany said. "They work all day--both of them."

"Okay. What are their work numbers?" the principal asked. "Surely one of them can get free for such an important matter."

"I--I don't know."

"Okay. Let's look them up in the file."

"They're not there."

"Of course they are."

"I mean they're different. They both got new jobs--and they haven't told me the numbers yet."

Having worked with schoolchildren for a long time, the principal knew better and smirked. "I see. Well, then we'll just have to try them at home and...."

"I told you--they aren't there."

"I know. They're both at work. But they will come home, won't they? They still live there. They have to take care of you and your brother. They'll most likely want to sleep in their beds as usual tonight, especially since they both work so hard." He was not attempting to hide the sarcasm.

Lisa was beginning to feel a different emotion toward Brittany, one she had never felt for her archenemy--pity. Brittany sensed it and was squirming slightly under both the principal's and her fellow student's attitudes. She nearly started from her seat, when Mister King picked up the telephone. "You won't be able to leave a message," she said. "The answering machine is broken." She was really reaching now. The principal was running out of patience, and Lisa was close to being embarrassed for the girl.

"Well, maybe someone fixed it today," he said. "Let's give it a try. Shall we?"

Brittany flashed him her illustrious smile tinged with her distinct attitude of superiority over every other person on Earth. But she was bluffing. The answering machine worked perfectly; she would never let it break down without getting it fixed or replaced immediately. Her social life depended on it. While covering her discomfort with her most excellent dramatic talent she watched him get the number out of the file and dial it. The tones struck her as bells tolling for her fate. As the principal waited through the rings, he stared at the girl. He, as most everyone else, had always found her easy to lay eyes on but he now considered her a study in deception. "Oh, hello, Mis'ess Sample--"

Brittany turned as pale as the papers in her file as she heard her mother's voice through the speakerphone.

"This is Stanley King, principal of Hilary J. Worthington Middle School. I'm glad to find you home today."

"Is Brittany all...?" her mother asked.

"Your daughter is fine, Mis'ess Sample. In fact, she's right here in my office."

"In your office. Is she in trouble?"

"Well, frankly, Mis'ess Sample, I don't really know. We had an altercation between your daughter and another girl about--well, I think you'd better come down here if you can, so we can discuss it. Would that be possible?"

Silence on the other end.

"Mis'ess Sample?"

"Yes. I was only thinking that her father is coming home soon and he will want me to--he'll want his dinner, you know. But I think there's time. So, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Fine. We'll be waiting for you."

While Principal King was calling in Lisa's parents, Brittany was as nervous as a cat in a cage but kept it all inside. On the outside she was still pallid but surprisingly poised. When the principal told her and Lisa to wait in the outer office till their parents arrived, she not only kept her aplomb but also completely ignored her adversary. Lisa expected her to whisper some threatening remark or dart some deadly look at her, but she did no such thing. Brittany only repeated sighs wrapped around barely audible whimpers. Lisa was definitely beginning to feel sorry for the girl and wonder if she had made a mistake in accusing her. Maybe Brittany was innocent of the crime. Maybe some homeless person, looking for shelter, accidentally set fire to the shed. Maybe there is a pyromaniac in the neighborhood. She was visibly uneasy about sitting next to Brittany as well as distressed by the whole situation, when her mother arrived.

"Lisa--what happened?" Susan asked, glancing at Brittany.

"We got in a fight."

"A fight! Oh, Lisa!"

"I'm sorry, mom. I couldn't help it."

"Of course you could help it, Lisa. Now, what happened?" Again, she eyed Brittany, who had been staring at her since she entered the main office.

Lisa followed her mother's eyes. "This is Brittany Sample, mom."

Susan had guessed as much. "Hello, Brittany." She now had a very good idea of what caused the fight and said no more about it for the time being.

The girl muttered something that resembled a greeting but she was distracted in waiting for her own mother and becoming increasingly restless about it. She kept her eyes on the entrance, as Susan took a seat beside her daughter and patted her hand. Lisa did not withdraw from this public show of affection; she was very glad her mother was with her now.

Terri Sample walked into the office a few minutes later. When Brittany saw her, she reddened to the opposite degree she had been pale. What she had feared most was happening. More than being accused of burning down the Tavenor's property, more even than her father's rage when he found out, was Brittany's abject humiliation at her mother being drunk in front of all these people: administrators, teachers, parents, and school mates. She wanted to drop her face into her hands and magically disappear. Feeling the urge to cry she covered it with a startling shout at her mother. "Mom!" Everyone in the room jerked in surprise. "Come here and sit down," she commanded. Brittany knew it was futile to think that no one would notice her mother's drunkenness but she had to try at least to keep the woman from wobbling in front of everyone. The girl could do nothing about her mother's slurred speech now, but later Brittany would spread the word that she suffered from multiple sclerosis or some disease that made her talk and act strangely. Brittany had handled such situations before but never any that were so critical.

The women looked at each other and Susan introduced herself, but Brittany signaled to her mother to keep a low key, so the poor woman barely said a word. Susan of course noticed her behavior and guessed she might have been intoxicated but found it difficult to accept. She felt an urge to know more about the woman whose daughter could have caused such trouble but sensing that her daughter wanted her to leave it alone for then so Susan kept to herself. The mothers and daughters sat together in the office without speaking another word as they looked anxiously for the principal's door to open. They did not have to wait long. Stanley King wanted to resolve this problem before the end of the school day.

"Mis'ess Sample, Mis'ess Tavenor--" he said as he opened the door to his office. "I'm Stan King, the principal. Thank you for making special trips today. Please--come into my office."

The four females were understandably stiff and apprehensive. Lisa deferred to her mother, but Susan did not want to push the accusation of Brittany without knowing if she was guilty. Brittany, however, spoke for her mother and adamantly stuck to her story that she had nothing to do with it, stopping and interrupting her mother so often that the principal asked her to allow her mother to speak. Perceiving Terri Sample's condition, though, he directed most of his attention to Susan Tavenor. "Mis'ess Tavenor--you realize that your daughter's accusation is very serious."

"My daughter is not a lone accuser, Mister King. My husband and I decided to call the police and tell them what we knew or suspected about Brittany." As soon as the name left her mouth, she looked at the girl's mother and felt sorry for having brought such grief upon her.

"What makes you folks think that Brittany is responsible, Mis'ess Tavenor?" the principal asked.

"We don't know she is responsible for sure, Mister King, but someone is--and we have, rather my daughter has evidence, that Brittany--well, she might have started the fire that burned down a structure on our property."

"And killed some baby birds," Lisa quickly added.

The principal scrutinized the four persons in his office long enough for them to become even more uncomfortable. "Look--my concern here is the safe and sound function of this school. Your daughters were fighting on school grounds and, while such an offense is not as serious as burning down a building, I must enforce our rules." He paused before dropping the axe. "So--I'm going to suspend both girls if you don't resolve this matter and resolve it soon. Since the police are investigating this incident, I am going to leave the matter with them--where it belongs."

Lisa and her mother and even Brittany accepted the principal's declaration right and proper, but Terri Sample was in a quandary. Despite her half-gone mind, her eyes rounded and she looked back & forth between the administrator and her daughter as if she had heard for the first time in her life that the sun would go down and darkness would cover the land forever. "Police? Whaddya mean--police? Brittany, wha's he talkin' about?" Brittany, wanting somehow to continue concealing the incident from her parents, merely shrugged.

"You mean to say--Mis'ess Sample, you did not know about this?" the principal asked with rising concern.

"I don't know nothin' 'bout no police."

"Mis'ess Sample--the Tavenors here called the police about a complaint against your daughter."

"Complaint? Wha' kinda complaint? Brittany, wha' kinda trouble have ya gotten into?"

"Nothing, mom. It's all a mistake. A big mistake."

"A mistake. Then why'd they call the police?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're crazy."

"Now, Brittany," Mister King said, "You shouldn't refer to people that way."

"Well, they are if they think I set fire to their stupid old shed."

The principal stared at her as if trying to see the truth in her face.

"Fire! Wha' fire?" Terri Sample asked.

"Let me explain, Mis'ess Sample," Susan said. "A fire burned down a small building on our property the other night, and the fire department believes that some person might have started it. My daughter, Lisa, has reason to think--well, she has an idea your daughter might have done it."

"I know she did it," Lisa mumbled. Brittany shot daggers at her.

Terri Sample swung her bleary eyes from Susan to Lisa to her own daughter then back to the principal. "I'm sure my daughter is in'cent, Mister--"

"King."

"Mister King. My daughter, Brittany, wouldn't never think of doin' such a terr'ble thing. She's a good girl."

"Tell her about the birds, mommy," Lisa said.

"Unfortunately," Susan said, "some birds had been nesting in the shed, and their babies all died in the fire."

"Brittany killed them," Lisa added.

Brittany started to her feet. "I did not!"

"Yes, you did--murderer!"

Their mothers had to restrain the girls from tying into each other again. The principal stood up and said loudly, "Girls. I will have no violence in my school. Now sit down and behave yourselves?" He looked to the mothers for support but more with an indication in his eyes that the meeting had ended.

Susan caught the signal, but Terri Sample sat in a daze. The two girls were quietly crying. Lisa felt another strange emotion invade her when she noticed Brittany weeping. At first she thought that her archenemy was simply sorry to have been caught in a crime but then she sensed that the girl might be remorseful. Maybe she was sorry for what she had done. Maybe she was sorry for having killed the birds. Lisa suddenly wanted to talk to Brittany calmly and alone but she knew that would not happen. Not there anyway. Brittany probably would not cooperate. Lisa thought that if the QB had not been her serious enemy before, she certainly was now, so she decided to remain discreetly distant from her.

"Come on, Lisa," Susan said, "let's go home."

Even when they stood up and walked out of the principal's office, Terri Sample remained in her seat. Her daughter tugged on her arm to leave. And, as they left the office, the girl held her mother's hand as if for maternal closeness but probably more to steady the woman. Brittany hated and feared her father for his brutality toward her and her brother but she had come only to feel sorry for mother and shame for her weakness.

The Tavenors and the Samples left the school without speaking another word but they could not get each other out of their minds. Whether Lisa and Brittany had intended it or not, they had involved themselves and their families in an ordeal that would change the two girls and their attitudes towards each other for the rest of their lives. On their respective journeys home they thought about their first meeting, the testy days at school, the fire, the police, and the baby birds--most of all the baby birds. And these thoughts weighed heavily on both girls' minds.

Chapter 16

The Samples

The police visited the Sample home that afternoon to talk further with Brittany about the fire. When Terri saw them, a man and a woman, park a police car in front of their house, she ran into the bedroom and closed the door, but when her father saw them, he pushed open the front door and called out to them in a tone likely to attract trouble. "Whaddya want?" he asked, his arms on his hips, a cigarette dangling from his unshaven face. A big man, his belly protruded beneath a filthy undershirt.

"Are you Mister Sample?" the male officer asked in a neutral tone.

"Yeah, 'less my wife's havin' an affair." He laughed and coughed at the same time.

Finding less humor in the incoherent response than antagonism, the male officer deferred to his partner. She took the cue and said, "I'm Officer Torell, Mister Sample. This is Officer Hoskins." She bore down on the man. "Is your daughter, Brittany, here, sir?"

"What if she is? I ain't lettin' her talk to no cops."

"We have to talk with her. You would do well to cooperate with us, Mister Sample."

"I ain't never had no good come from dealin' with cops and I ain't gonna let you mess with my little girl."

For the moment the police only looked at each other and at the slatternly man blocking the door to his home like a degenerate dragon at a decrepit castle gate. Behind him, Brittany had been watching the whole interaction, behind her, David. Realizing that her father might make the situation worse, Brittany spoke up. "It's all right, daddy. I'll talk to them."

"No, you won't girl."

"Daddy," she said in a sharply honed voice that nearly made the police officers' hair rise on the backs of their necks. "Let me talk to them."

Her father turned his head slowly to look at her and saw such fire in her eyes that he backed away to keep from getting burned. He blustered as he walked deeper into the house, "Sure, girl. Go ahead. You talk to 'em if you want to--but remember--your daddy's right here if you need me."

"Sure, daddy," she said with no feeling as she shut the door and stepped into the front yard. She wanted to keep the officers outside. The less her parents overheard the better for them and for her. David watched from a window. "Okay," Brittany said. "Here I am. What do you want to talk to me about this time?"

This attractive young girl's poise and steely gaze struck the officers. The one who did all the talking to her, Officer Torell, a wiry young woman, said, "Brittany--we have some more questions to ask you about the fire on the Tavenor property."

"I answered your questions the other day."

"We have more. The fire department examined the fire site and concluded that it might have been deliberately set."

Brittany started to speak but held her tongue.

"You wanted to say something?" the officer asked.

Brittany shook her head.

"Well, as I was saying, the fire could have been set. As you know, the Tavenors think you might be responsible." The officer waited for a reaction, got none, but the girl was showing signs of nervousness around the edges of her eyes and in her clenching hands. "We'd like to take a look at your room, maybe some of your things, if that's all right."

"Do you have a warrant?"

The officers looked at each other, both surprised by this young girl's sophistication. "No--" the woman said, "we were hoping you would cooperate. We're not here to frighten you, Brittany. We just need to get to the bottom of this property damage, to know if anyone is responsible for it." She paused to stare at her--woman to woman. "We need your help."

"Well, I won't let you go through my things without a warrant, officer. Besides, I didn't do anything wrong. And how do you know for sure the fire wasn't an accident?"

The officers looked at each other. "We don't know for sure, Brittany," the officer said, "but we have to follow through on the charges the Tavenors have made against you." The policewoman thought she detected the girl's eyes watering and probably mistook the fact for only fear; she did not know Brittany well enough to perceive that rage was also a cause. "Basically you can consider us here to clear your name. I don't believe a nice girl like you would do such a thing, but when someone makes a formal charge, we have to investigate. You understand, don't you?"

Brittany leveled her characteristic gaze at the officer, a look strong and straight enough to wither even a practiced policeman's confidence. "I know what you're after, officer--and I would be glad to help you find the person who might have started the fire--if I knew who it was. But I don't. All I know for sure is that the person is not me." She cast her eyes with equal power between those of both officers. "That's all I have to say." With that, she spun around, entered the house, and slammed the door behind her.

The police officers stood staring at the closed door for a moment, stunned by Brittany's bravado. They thought of knocking on the door and trying to persuade the girl to cooperate but realized it was futile. They would have to obtain a warrant to search the premises, an action they were reluctant to take, since they themselves really had difficulty believing that the girl had started the fire.

From the shadows of the house interior, Brittany saw the officers step into their car and leave. As she watched the police vehicle roll down the street, she found a rough place on her fingernail and, putting it into her mouth, scraped it smooth with her teeth and spit out the particle. When sure the cops were gone, she walked into her bedroom and pulled a dirty pink blouse out of her clothes closet. Examining it, she found a small tear. Evidence. She had to get rid of it. A favorite blouse, yet it had to go. But where? How? The trash can? No. Too obvious. The fireplace? No. Too messy. She looked around the house, inside and out. The backyard. Getting a shovel in the garage, she dug a hole behind a pile of junk against the back fence and buried the incriminating blouse. After smoothing the dirt and piling debris on top of it, she hurried back inside. When the police would come back with the search warrant, she would be ready for them.

The officers returned that evening, when Brittany was fixing dinner for her and her brother. Having heard their car pull into the driveway, she opened the door and greeted them with a smile. A little taken aback by her change of attitude, the officers stopped at the entrance. "Hello again, Brittany," the policewoman said. "Could we speak with your parents please?"

Brittany, always reluctant for anyone to talk to her parents besides see them, hesitated but kept her affable attitude. "Mom! Dad! The cops are here again."

In a moment, only her father stepped out of the bedroom. When he opened the door, noise from a television blared out of the room behind him. The officers noticed Brittany's mother lying apparently unconscious on a bed. Concerned, the female officer asked, "Is your wife all right, Mister Sample?"

"'Course she's awright. Jus' drings too much. Whaddya want now?"

"We have a warrant to search your premises."

"A warrant! For what?"

The officers looked at each other but not surprised that Brittany's father knew little to nothing about the fire and the charges against his daughter. "Your daughter has been charged with arson, Mister Sample, so we...."

"Arson!" He snapped a look at his daughter that oozed potential violence. The look sent Davy scurrying under the kitchen table.

"Now, we're not here to cause any trouble for her, sir--we just need to look around, examine some of her things. Just a formality when someone brings charges against...."

"Charges?" he snarled. "Who's chargin' my daughter with arson?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss your daughter's accusers at this time, sir. Brittany would have an opportunity to confront them in a court of law, should that become necessary--but I don't think...."

"Court! Why she jus' a kid. Whaddya mean talkin' 'bout takin' her to court?"

"As I said, I doubt that will become necessary, Mister Sample. Now, if you and your daughter will cooperate, we can do our duty, and be on our way."

Ted Sample milled around the room and grumbled for a few moments, while the police officers watched him closely, then he said, "Go 'head and do what ya gotta to do. But I'm watchin' ev'ry move ya make."

"Fine. Brittany--would you show us to your room, please?"

The police officers searched through her dresser drawers and closet, in the little boxes containing her jewelry and other items of vanity and nostalgia, and even under her bed but found no pink blouse with a small tear in it. Pink dresses, sweaters, pants, underwear, shoes, and other blouses but nothing to match the torn fragment of cloth. They searched thoroughly the way their job demands and they were relieved to find nothing to incriminate the girl. After observing the way she looked after her disabled brother and had to put up with her depraved parents, they felt sorry for her and wanted no further trouble. "I'm sorry, Brittany, that we had to rummage through your personal belongings," the policewoman said. "I'm happy to say we didn't find what we were looking for. Sorry to bother you." With nods and slight salutes, the two officers departed and never looked back at the Sample residence with any more suspicion about the Tavenor property fire.

As far as the Sebastopol police were concerned, the culprit might never be caught, and they wrote the incident off as the work of some homeless transient who was simply trying to light a campfire in a shack he had found as shelter for a night. They would watch for any suspicious persons around the neighborhood but had little hope of catching the person who burned down the shed. Luckily, they figured, no one besides birds was killed in the fire.

The police departure without an arrest did not leave a wake of calm waters. When Brittany's father saw the police car disappear, he attacked his daughter with alcohol-inflamed fury. "What in hell you doin' girl, bringin' the cops down on us? You outta yer mind?" He marched toward her with a look in his bloodshot eyes that always meant to Brittany and her brother that a beating was coming like a terrible storm. She had seen and felt the blows and sharp pain of his rage as far back as she could remember, and from the ghastly expression on his face this time, she was going to suffer a uniquely brutal punishment. Raising both fists, he screamed like a deranged elephant, his beer gut bouncing beneath his grimy undershirt. "I donno what in hell you did, you little bitch--but I'm gonna teach ya never to do it--or anything else again that attracts the cops. "I'm gonna...."

"Keep your hands off me, you bastard," she screamed back at him and stood her ground, a stance she had taken for the last year or so. "I'm not mother or Davy, so keep your dirty hands off me, or I'll...."

"You'll what?" he bellowed as he barreled at her. "You'll cut me? Well, I'd like to see you try--"

She had scared him off before with a butcher knife but she knew the man was out of his mind this time with drink, humiliation, fear of the police, and insane anger. She would not be able to turn him away. Instead of fighting back as she had done before, she neither attacked him nor defended herself nor ran away but stood there and took his swollen fists straight at her head. David screamed in terror. Feeling a crushing blow rattle her senses Brittany fell to the floor and lay there as if waiting to be sacrificed to a pagan devil, only staring into her father's maniacal eyes and wishing she could fly beyond the moon. "Kill me!" she screamed. "Why don't you kill me? Kill us all and set us free of your, your--" The word for his evil stuck in her throat, drowned by her up-welling tears. Brittany Sample hated to cry. For her, crying meant weakness, a weakness her father had exploited in her mother, her brother, and herself all their lives. She had learned how to force back the tears, whenever her father attacked her, thinking that he wanted to see her cry to consummate his power, so she had forced herself to show on her face no sign of emotion, only a contemptuous sneer. This time, though, she could not keep down the tears. They welled out of her the way a flood breaks an over-burdened dam; at first only seeping in strangled sobs her misery soon gushed forth in fits. With a great sigh, she let go with a long, shrieking wail like the profound sorrow of a soul lost in hell. She thought she was going to die, that her father was going to kill her, and she extended her arms straight out from her trembling shoulders in total resignation to her coming death.

Her father crouched over her and raised one fist above his head. Then he halted. Somewhere on the outer edges of his world, he heard a boy screaming and a girl crying. Through his bleary vision, he saw his daughter's eyes closed, water pouring from them. Listening to the forlorn weeping, looking at her shuddering body, he hung motionless above her, as if some spell had frozen him in mid-malevolence. Maybe he suddenly became ill, maybe he realized that he was diving too far into the abyss, maybe he finally felt his daughter's anguish. Whatever it was, it stopped him from hitting her again. Instead, he slowly stood up, bowed his head, and wept with her, disharmoniously but mutually. Perhaps stricken by his own monstrosity, he turned and lurched back into his bedroom, slamming the door.

Brittany sensed the silence in the room before realizing that her father was gone. She opened her eyes and looked around to see if an angel of death or one of guardianship had spirited her into another world but saw merely the familiar tattered trappings of her home and Davy's simple, sweet face staring down at her. She knew she had survived her father's attack. He had not hit her again but had left her alone and disappeared. For long? With Davy sitting beside her, she lay there weeping for a long time but less and less wretchedly till sunlight faded from the sky. Wiping the wet from her face, she pulled herself off the floor and stumbled into her own bedroom, Davy following her.

She fell onto her bed and lay there for an hour, thinking about her father, her mother, her brother, the police, Lisa Tavenor, and the swallows. Suddenly, a flash flood of gut-wrenching anguish again swept her away. She cried for the baby birds and for her family, especially Davy, but most of all for herself. In no way had she wanted to harm those birds. How could that have happened? What a monster she was! No better than her father. Davy watched her weep and thrash on the bed till too exhausted to lift a muscle or squeeze out another tear. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. For the first time in years she was allowing herself to know a rare feeling--abject sorrow. She was sorry for herself no less than ever but she was also sorry for the baby swallows. When she admitted that sentiment from her heart directly to her mind, she found the way open to be sorry for others. She thought of Lisa Tavenor for the first time without encasing the thought in a veneer of hate. The emotion had been her defensive weapon for such a long time that she brought it out of its degenerate sheath whenever she felt threatened either actually or perceptionally. Yet Lisa had never done her any harm. Why had she despised her so much as to destroy something so important to her? She had not meant to burn down that shed but she had meant to hurt the girl. Now, however, that ill desire no longer festered within her. For some reason, perhaps too complicated for a girl of twelve to comprehend, her heart was changing toward the new girl; the arrogant queen was feeling the urge to talk with Lisa as a peer of humanity. Once she had collected her senses, Brittany looked at her brother for the first time since talking to the police.

"Are you going to be happy, Brittany?" Davy asked, looking worried.

She laughed through her tears and held him close for a long time. "Yes, Davy--I'm going to be happy. Don't worry." Then, almost without realizing what she was doing, Brittany picked up the telephone, called directory assistance, and asked for the number of the Tavenor residence. Before dialing, she paused for a look at herself in a mirror while she was taking an action that had been foreign to her for years. Here she was about to call a girl whom she had regarded as an enemy, and because of which the girl had come to hate her. Undaunted, she dialed the number and lost her breath the way she did when walking on stage for a performance or when confronting her belligerent father. She had never felt such anxiety when talking to any other person, even handsome boys. Now, though, as she held Davy's hand Brittany was so breathless she had to inhale deeply a few times to calm her racing pulse while she waited for someone to answer.

Chapter 17

The Phone Call

Lisa did not accept the police failure to charge Brittany with a crime and she persisted in thinking that the girl had burned the birds to death. Frustrated that everyone else was losing interest in pursuing the case, she had not been able to fall asleep nights for thinking of ways to prove the QB guilty. So steamed was she about the turn of events and so determined was she to think of Brittany Sample as a monster, Lisa was astounded, when her mother told her that her number one nemesis was on the telephone and wanted to talk to her. "Who?" she asked her mother needlessly for she had heard the name clearly.

"Brittany Sample, dear," her mother said again with a look on her face that almost perfectly reflected that of her daughter. "She's on the phone."

Lisa wondered for one mindless moment if there could be another Brittany Sample in the world who knew her number and wanted to talk to her for some reason, perhaps involving the purchase of rock CDs or free tickets to a film preview, but immediately she realized that the caller was certainly the Brittany Sample she knew and hated above all villains she had known in the past and would hope not to know in the future.

"Are you going to talk to her?" her mother asked, understanding her daughter's chained reluctance.

Lisa gawked at her and stood paralyzed, fearing that the QB was now sinking so low as to harass her in her own home. But a contrary curiosity chattered in her head that drove her feet forward and made her take the phone. "Hello?" she squeaked to her embarrassment.

"Hi--" Brittany too lacked conviction in her voice. "I bet you're surprised to hear from me."

"Yeah--" Lisa uttered a barely audible titter.

A sticky silence raised their discomfort to an even greater height.

"I--I've been thinking about the fire--" Brittany said.

Lisa waited for the kicker silently, glumly.

"I haven't been able to get those poor baby birds out of my mind."

Lisa could not believe what she was hearing. Still not knowing exactly what to say, she muttered a meaningless, "Hmm," and thought she heard quiet weeping on the other end of the line.

"I'm so sorry they died, Lisa. I--"

Lisa held her breath and wanted to see Brittany's face, look into her eyes.

"I--I didn't mean to--"

Lisa waited for the rest but could not bear it. "Didn't mean to what?"

"To start a fire!" Brittany collapsed into crying and could not speak for some seconds. Lisa waited, her chest now starting to heave. "I only wanted to scare the birds away, so you wouldn't have them anymore. I hated all the attention you were getting because of them and I wanted to stop it. I didn't mean to start the fire. I lit a match to frighten the birds. It burned my fingers and, and I dropped it. It fell between some boards--I couldn't get it. The wood started--burning." Her words were so inundated by tears that Lisa could scarcely understand all she was saying. "I--I stomped on the flames but couldn't put them out. I was afraid. I ran." She had to catch her breath. "I--I killed all those little baby birds." She wept such a storm of bitter grief that Lisa too started to cry.

"Oh, Brittany--"

"I'm sorry, Lisa. I'm so sorry. I did a terrible thing. You were right. I am a monster."

"No. No, Brittany. I didn't mean that." She lied. "I was just sad--and angry--"

"I know you hate me and want the police to put me in jail and I don't blame you. I deserve to suffer for--for what I've done."

"Brittany--"

"The worse of it is--I can never make it up to you, to your parents, to the birds. I want to die."

"No, Brittany! You mustn't say that. I believe it was an accident."

"There wouldn't have been any accident, if I hadn't gone over there that night. Oh, God! I can't stand it--to think about it. I'm going to be sick!"

"Brittany--"

"I'm sorry, Lisa. That's all I can say. I've got to go now. Please try to forgive me."

Before Lisa could speak, she heard Brittany disconnect and stood stone still with the phone in her hand. Emotions swarmed inside of her. She was still angry but also immensely satisfied and very sorry for Brittany. What to do now? She sounded like she might do something to herself. Should I call her back? Should I call the police? Tell my parents? Lisa stood there and pondered these questions and more, till her mother stepped into the room.

"So that was the Brittany Sample." Lisa nodded, afraid she would break down if she uttered a word. "What did she say?" Lisa shook her head and started up the stairs to her bedroom. "Lisa!"

"I can't talk about it now, mom. I'm sorry--" She ran to her room and closed the door.

Susan could hear her sobbing and wanted to go after her but knew her daughter would talk to her when ready.

Lisa fell onto her bed and wept into her pillow. She wanted more than anything else to confront Brittany again, face to face, to see if the girl was truly repentant for what she had done or if she was simply performing to escape punishment. She could not easily trust her.

Unable to talk at dinner about her conversation with Brittany, Lisa concentrated on forcing down her meal and listening to her brother rattle on about getting a job so he could buy a car. Her mother and father were worried about her state of mind and tried repeatedly to coax her feelings out of her but when they could get nothing they withdrew into a nagging anxiety.

Lisa went to bed early that night but again could not get to sleep, this time for thinking about her conversation with Brittany. Under cover of wishing her a good night, both her mother and father at different times looked in on her. When they had gone, the girl lay and looked out her window at the stars for hours then finally dropped off at what seemed one second before the alarm rang. She had to drag herself out of bed to get ready for the ordeal of the day. Once up, though, she became eager.

Her parents greeted Lisa for breakfast with more than usual cheerfulness, which only made her want to hurry off to school. The only thought on her mind was to see Brittany Sample, for one look at her would tell if she had been genuine on the phone. Lisa had little to say that mattered during breakfast and even less in the car on the way to the school. She knew her parents were worried, confused, and itching with curiosity but she had to keep it all to herself till she knew for sure what she was going to do next about Brittany and the fire.

When she got to the school, Lisa scanned the kids for Brittany as if the two of them were the only persons on Earth and had to find each other to validate their humanity. She did not have to search for long, because Brittany, looking unusually like a wilted flower, had come to school with the same intention. The two girls found each other in a busy hallway, walked up to one another, stopped, and stared. For such a long time they stood so apparently transfixed that passing children gawked at the two known adversaries, but they were oblivious to all of them. Even when most of the students had dispersed into their classrooms, neither girl spoke. Brittany did not know what to say but felt an impulse to reach out to Lisa, who did not need to say a word for she knew by the look in Brittany's eyes that the girl was truly sorry for what she had done. Nevertheless, Lisa smiled and said, "Hi."

Brittany's face, that had been a portrait in paranoia, instantly softened into a reflection of Lisa's. "Hi," she said in return. "I guess you're convinced that I'm completely insane."

Lisa tried to shake her head in reassurance but could not deny the idea had worked its way into her mind.

"Well, no matter what you think of me, I want you to know that I meant what I said last night."

"I know."

Brittany sighed heavily and had the urge to lift her arms and hug Lisa, but the new girl was not quite ready for that. She had not yet lost her grudge against the QB for what she had done and was not about to let it go so easily. Brittany shriveled a little inside and lost a bit of hope in her eyes, a look which Lisa noticed but ignored. Not having entirely relinquished her craving for revenge, she would let Brittany suffer a while longer. When the bell rang to break their mutual trance, the two girls turned together and walked to class as if companions, but neither spoke a word. In fact, neither spoke to each other for rest of the day, yet a new aura had formed between Brittany Sample and Lisa Tavenor, not visible to any of their schoolmates, but one, which the two of them fully sensed and basked in, as if a big down comforter had wrapped around them both on a cold winter day.

That was a good day for Lisa in more ways than one. She and Brittany waved goodbye after school. She walked home feeling better than she had in what to her seemed years. She greeted her parents happily and enjoyed her milk and cookies for the first time in days. Although she said nothing about Brittany at the dinner table, she joined in the conversation and even asked her brother about the job he was seeking. However, the real thrill of the day came at the end of it.

When studying in her room that evening she glanced out the window at the backyard as she often did and noticed a single swallow fly into the new house. Excited by the possibility of what she had been hoping for, she ran downstairs, and dashed into the yard. Slowing to step carefully and anxiously to the shed, she looked to the sky and saw the swallows as silhouetted flecks against the fading sunlight. She saw another one swoop into the shed. Then another one. And another. Moving closer to the shack she peered through the window and witnessed what she had been praying for--nests, rudimentary ones for sure but the definite makings of new nests.

The swallows were again building their little roosting bowls of mud and grass in their new home, just as if nothing terrible had happened to them; simply doing what they normally do in life. With her chin on her hands on the windowsill and with all the fascination of watching her favorite movie, Lisa followed the birds flitting in and out of the little building. She smiled at their swift dives and turns in the air, she laughed at their rapid twittering, she marveled at the way they fashioned the little cups with their beaks full of mud, she wanted to cry at seeing their nests quickly taking shape before her eyes. Now, they could very well lay eggs again and hatch new babies, and her joy would come full circle; she could let go of her grief and maybe even her bitterness. A sudden urge to share her thrilling discovery drove her headlong to the house, and she burst through the back door. "Mommy, daddy, Erik, Digger--come quick!"

All four of them ran from different parts of the house: Robert and Susan with a twinge of an instinctive parental fear, Erik in hope of seeing something exciting, Digger just because he was a dog. "What is it, dear?" Susan asked, a dissident note of panic in her voice.

"Come look--look in the bird house!" Lisa shouted as she ran back to the yard. Leading her family to the shelter while hushing them along the way she pointed to the birds flying in and out of the little building. "See! See! They're coming back home! Look!"

Erik promptly recognized an unexciting event and returned to the house as he grumbled something about having better things to do. Digger looked around for a sign of anything he could chase, sniff, or chew. Robert and Susan cheered appropriately but with genuine pleasure. "Oh, that's wonderful, Lisa!" her mother said.

"Looks like our rebuilding job is a success," her father said.

"Well, they're remaking their nests," Lisa said, "but I don't know if they will have any more babies."

Robert and Susan, having no factual information about such things, chose simply to be encouraging parents. Lisa smiled at them for their support but knew better than they that only in time would she know if the birds would bear and raise new swallows that year after having lost all their young. For now she was pleased enough to be seeing them nesting in their new home but she replied to her parents in the way she knew they wanted: optimistically. She did not want to say any more for fear that wanting it too much would prevent it from happening.

Yet again, she had difficulty falling asleep that night but because of a much different emotion than that of previous nights. Brittany Sample's admission and the renewed hope for the swallows were supplanting Lisa's bitterness and sorrow. All of her positive energy, that she considered a kind of prayer, she focused on the birds laying eggs. In her mind she pictured them finishing their teacup nests, settling into them, releasing the little white ovaloids, and warming them with their downy bodies; she saw the eggs crack, the incongruously large beaks break through, and the pink, featherless bulgeyed babies struggle free of the shells. In her mind she watched them beg incessantly for food from their indefatigable parents, grow before her very eyes, feather out, fledge, and take wing. Her spirit soared with them into the great blue firmament that gradually softened and darkened into a warm and tranquil world beyond time and place.

Chapter 18

Another Chance

When Lisa returned to school after the long Memorial Day weekend, she searched for Brittany to see if the girl had meant what she said. Was she going to be a different person? Or would she revert to her hateful QB status? When the two girls saw each other, they hesitated in checking out attitudes but, spotting no signs of trouble, they greeted one another with mutual friendliness. Their feud was over. They were certainly not fast friends and maybe never would be, but they were no longer deadly enemies. Still, Brittany had one nagging concern. Looking straight into Lisa's eyes she asked, "Did you tell the police what I said?" Lisa kept her eyes on Brittany's and shook her head. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I guess--I don't feel so angry about it anymore. I think you really didn't mean to harm the birds."

"I didn't, Lisa--I swear it."

Lisa nodded. The pain and a little bitterness about the tragedy resided in her heart, so she could not cheerfully forgive and forget but she was no longer vengeful. That was a relief to both girls. As Lisa's father had told her repeatedly, vengeance is a sickening boil on the soul.

"Did you tell your parents?" Lisa again shook her head. At that moment Brittany saw Lisa, the girl from LA, in a new light. Relief was part of the reason. So was gratitude. As well as appreciation. Most of all, she respected Lisa's strength. Having always prided herself on fortitude in the face of agonizing hardship, Brittany admired it in others. Lisa had faced rejection, cruelty, fear, and loss because of Brittany Sample's stupid action but she had found the power to accept her apology and possibly forgive her evil act, which to Lisa was the biggest sin of all--wanton waste. Brittany again felt an urge to embrace Lisa but restrained herself. Perhaps the time even for affection between them would come. For then, though, she was content to walk beside her, sit next to her in class, and share the funny, sad, and boring moments of the school day.

Lisa was happy to do the same. Realizing now that her relationship with the QB was undergoing a profound change, she was pleased to be with the girl. Having secretly admired her beauty, poise, intelligence, and talent, she had let that admiration only aggravate her resentment. Naturally, their bonding also attracted attention from their schoolmates, making Lisa even more popular than she had been because of the swallows. She knew of course a secret about Brittany that, if widely known, would ruin her reputation with a lot of people, and she knew that Brittany's gratitude for keeping that secret might have been sustaining her favor but she chose to trust the girl. That was Lisa's way. Brittany for a while worried that, if an argument should arise between them, Lisa would spill the beans to one of the kids or worse, an adult, but when she found at length that Lisa was going to keep it to herself and not press charges against her she relaxed and let their friendship grow.

Grow it did. It blossomed. Lisa learned that curiously individuals, at first opposite and adversarial, often when some crucial act or crisis brings them together become fast friends, as though the makings for the friendship were always there but too intense or subtle for recognition. So Lisa and Brittany became inseparable. Then one day Brittany asked a question out of the blue: without any hint or preface of what she was about to say she asked Lisa if they could ever be good friends. When Lisa heard that and realized she had heard it right, she knew their lives together had permanently changed. That big question from Brittany came shortly before Lisa made the best discovery in her life.

Going straight to the bird house when she got home from school, so anxious was she to see the birds, she saw in the shed gifts greater than anything she could ever get for her birthday. Entering into the little house and stepping on a block of wood that she had placed for this purpose, she peeked over the edge of a little, clay bowl and saw them--newly hatched birds. She had to stop her mouth from squealing for joy and nearly fell off the block. Elated she dashed into the house to tell her parents the good news but could find only her brother home. Settling for him, since she would burst unless she could announce the grand event to someone, she ran into his room. "Erik! The birds! Come quick! Come and see!"

"I'm busy, Lisa." He was going through his collection of car magazines.

Hoping he would follow her, she ran back to the yard. He did go after her, too curious to miss out on something possibly interesting. When she saw him come out of the house she ran to him, grabbed his hand, and pulled him running to the birdhouse. Digger, always ready, chased after them.

"This better be good," he grumbled.

"It is--for me and the birds anyway."

"You and the birds. Oh, great!"

"Shh!" she warned him as they drew near the shack. "We have to go slow and quiet so we don't disturb them." Finding her actions amusing, Erik complied with mock reluctance. "Now crouch down here and slowly look through the window," she directed.

Their two heads appeared over the sill and they peered into the shadowy interior. Lisa pointed to a nest attached to a rafter in the far corner. "See. Look in that nest--"

He looked. "I don't see anything. What am I supposed to be lookin' for anyway?"

"Babies. Look."

Squinting his eyes, he looked again and saw a fuzzy little head stick its yellow beak above the nest. A swallow, its mouth full of insects, swooped into the shed and landed on the nest. Two baby birds stuck their heads up, gullets gaping as wide as their bodies, and peeped frantically. The parent bird stuffed the meal into the nearest, nosiest mouth. "Oh, yeah!" he said. They're gettin' lunch."

"Yeah! Aren't they adorable?"

With that word jarring to his budding masculine self-image, Erik retracted his spontaneous kidlike enthusiasm. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. Actually they look kinda ugly."

"Ugly! I think they're the most beautiful things in the world."

When he saw her eyes glistening, he softened to her joy, knowing she had suffered so much at the loss of the previous ones. "To you, Mother Goose, I guess they are."

She looked at him to check his intention, saw he meant well, and then laughed merrily, startling the birds. When they fluttered on their nests then settled down, brother and sister looked at each other wideyed and said, "Oops!" nearly in unison. Stifling the noise of their laughter, they crept away from the birdhouse and walked back to their own. Sitting on the back porch their amusement gradually subsided and they fell quiet.

Erik started rubbing his shoe on the raspy surface of the patio. Lisa gazed over the yard, the pond, and the swallow house. They said nothing for a long time but felt comfortable enough with each other to remain there together. Finally, he broke through to her. "I'm glad the birds are having babies again, Lisa."

She looked sharply at him then smiled. "It's almost like nothing bad ever happened to them. They flee for their lives. Their babies die. They come back. Rebuild their nests. Have more babies. Unbelievable."

"Not really. You did about the same thing. The shed burned down. The babies died. You rebuilt the shed. More babies."

She studied him as if she were for the first time finding intelligence in his head. "You're right. I guess you're not such an alien after all."

He chortled and looked for something interesting at his feet. "No, but you're still Mother Goose."

She laughed and socked his shoulder playfully. "You know you never bother me with that name. I kinda like it."

"Damn." He was making her laugh with everything he said, much to his pleasure. At that moment they were reliving old times when they were innocent little kids, before their egos became too strong to ignore, and they had grown apart. Again, silence formed between them as a transparent barrier. Again, he broke through it. "Did you ever find out if Brittany Sample started the fire?"

Lisa looked away from him and pretended to be searching for more swallows in the air. She did not know if she should confide in him. Would he tell everyone, and would word get back to Brittany? Would he tell their parents before she could? She was raring to tell someone, though, and he was closer to her now than he had been in years. Giving in to the impulse, she said, "Yes. She did it."

"She did?" He waited for more on it but, when none was forthcoming, he pursued the subject, too hot to avoid. "How do you know for sure?"

"She told me."

"She told you! Wow! Have you told mom and dad?"

She shook her head.

"Why not, Lisa? I thought you wanted her busted."

"I did--but not anymore, I guess."

"Not anymore! What do you mean not anymore? What she do--scare ya?"

She snapped her eyes at him. "No. She didn't scare me." She watched one of his shoes tapping on the patio. "She told me she did it by mistake--and she's sorry. She didn't mean to start the fire or kill the birds. It was an accident."

"An accident. And you believe her."

"Yes," she said, her jaw set. "She only meant to scare the birds away. She didn't mean to start a fire."

"Well, I...."

"Please don't go telling our parents, Erik. Let me tell them. I want to explain it, so they don't get upset and call the police anyway."

"Then you'd better come up with a better way of telling them than the way you told me. 'Cause I ain't convinced. I don't think they'll buy it either." He listened. "In fact I think I hear them coming up the driveway right now, so--get ready."

"They'll have to believe me. You too. I don't want Brittany to get into any trouble. It was an accident."

"She trespassed onto our property, didn't she?" He did not wait for an answer. "She started a fire in the shed, didn't she? She ran away and denied it, didn't she?" Lisa tentatively nodded her head. "Then how can you trust her?"

"I don't know. I just do."

"Well, you're bigger-hearted than I thought you were--or you're a fool." She shot a reproving look at him. "And I've never known you to be foolish. Squishy maybe but not foolish."

She punched his arm. "Squishy! What am I--some kind of marshmallow?"

"Well--"

Another punch. "It's just that she seems so sad about it--and sorry. There's something about Brittany--"

"I know," he said. "If she weren't such a bitch, I'd go for her."

"What?! That's disgusting. You and Brittany. I couldn't stand that. If you and her got together, I think I'd actually have to run away from home--screaming." On second thought, the notion strangely started to appeal to her but she said nothing to him about it. He laughed while the idea lingered around his eyes.

"Hey--what's going on, you two?" Susan asked behind them.

"Great news, mom!" Lisa said. "The swallows have babies!"

"Oh, that is good news. I guess they like their new house too much to stay away."

"Yeah. Where's daddy?"

"Bringing in the groceries." She glanced at Erik. "He could use some help."

Erik grumbled but got up to oblige her. On his way past his mother, he dropped a small bomb. "Lisa has something important to tell you."

"Erik!" Lisa shouted.

"What is it, Lisa?"

"I'll tell you later, mom--at dinner. You and daddy together."

"Hmm. Sounds important. It wouldn't have anything to do with Brittany Sample by any chance, would it?"

Lisa blushed a bit and nodded. She always marveled how her parents seemed nearly able to read her mind. It was scary at times.

"Well, I hope it's more good news." Susan was on her way into the kitchen to put the groceries away. "We're on a roll."

Lisa wondered what she meant. How were they on a roll? Was the news about the birds all that was needed for a roll? When in greeting her father and seeing his face, however, she knew that something good was going on with him too. When she witnessed his affection toward her mother and their borderline scandalous behavior right there in the kitchen, she knew what other good news there was in the Tavenor household. The problem with Jesse was finished.

As promised, Lisa told Brittany's story after dinner that evening. Her parents listened with much interest; even Erik wanted to hear all about it. Lisa told them about the telephone conversation, the talk at school, and their changed relationship. She told them that she had almost forgiven her mistake and she asked them not to tell the police on Brittany. She had suffered enough and was deeply sorry for what she had done.

Robert was not convinced, though, and started to challenge Lisa's judgment, but her mother interceded. Susan knew something of Brittany and her family and thought the girl might have committed the destructive act out of a deeply troubled heart and mind. "I think you may be right, Lisa," she said. "I gather Brittany has not had an easy time growing up, and she might be a very unhappy girl."

Erik supported his mother's opinion of Brittany with a nod and an affirmative grunt. She glanced at him and smiled, as did Lisa. Robert, though in the dark about the girl, bowed to the majority. "Okay. If you say so. I just hope you're right. I would hate to see Brittany do any more damage, because we didn't take appropriate action. Better safe than sorry."

"I don't think she will, dad. I'm getting to know her and...."

"That's fine, Lisa," he said, "But we should at least inform the school about Brittany. If she's having trouble at home, the counselor would want to know about it and take the proper steps."

"Tell the school!" Lisa said. "Dad. I don't want to get Brittany in trouble."

"I know, dear, but she may need help. We at least have to make sure she has the opportunity to get it."

"But dad...."

"There's nothing to argue about, Lisa. If we do nothing else, we have to do this. We owe it to ourselves, to the swallows, and to Brittany."

"To Brittany. How do we owe it to Brittany by tattling on her to the school?"

"We wouldn't be tattling, Lisa," Robert said. "We would be reporting important information to the right person, information that could prevent further trouble and help Brittany."

"How can it help her if she goes to jail?"

"She's not going to go to jail."

"She will, daddy, if you tell the school, and they tell the police."

He was stuck there, having to assume that the school would possibly notify the police. "So what do you expect me to do, Lisa? Nothing?"

"No, but I would like to get to know Brittany a little better. If I find out she's going to cause more trouble, I'll let you know, and then you can do what you want."

"I'd have your permission then."

"I'm sorry, daddy, I didn't mean to...."

"I know, girl. You're trying to do what you think to be the right thing. And I applaud you for that. I'm proud that my daughter wants to help people instead of punish them. I just want be sure that what we do is the right thing in the end--for everybody concerned."

"I tell you what," Susan said, "why don't you invite Brittany over to the house one day after school. We can meet her and--" She glanced at her husband. Robert was on the verge of objecting, when she continued. "Then we can get to know her a little for ourselves."

"That's a great idea, mom!" Lisa said.

"Suits me," Erik said. Lisa made a sarcastic face at him but could not prevent a smile from foiling it.

"Okay, okay--I'm outnumbered," Robert said. "I'll let democracy reign here and go along with the majority. I just hope you're right. I'd hate to see this girl cause any more trouble for anyone."

"I don't think she will, dad--" Lisa said, "especially if she finds out someone cares about her."

"Hopefully she has parents to see to that," Robert said.

"If both her parents are anything like her mother," Susan said, "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that she's not getting all the care she needs. She's only twelve."

"Actually she just about to turn thirteen," Lisa said.

"A teenager, huh," Erik mused.

Another shot from his sister's eyes lashed his face, and he smirked into the last morsels on his plate.

"There--then that's settled," Susan said. "You talk to her, Lisa. Invite her over." She noticed her husband insinuating approval with a shrug.

"I can hardly wait to tell her about the baby birds," Lisa said. "That's what she's most upset about, you know. Oh, she's sorry for destroying our property. But when she found out babies died in the fire she started--accidentally--she couldn't handle it."

"I should hope not," her father said.

"She cried like crazy on the phone," Lisa said. "You should've heard her." Susan's eyes showed a broad sympathy. Robert's face softened too.

"I think the new baby birds could be the way out of this whole mess," Lisa said. Her parents regarded her with more esteem than usual. They had always thought highly of Lisa and her precociously mature ways but this time they were stunned with admiration. Erik too, though he did not show it, felt a rush of pride in a sister he had often found irritating. Lisa jumped up and started to clear the table. "Help me, Erik. I want to call Brittany."

"Okay. If you promise to tell me when she's comin' over."

On her way with hands full of dishes to the kitchen she tossed him a remark, undecipherable but for its mock snideness.

"Help your sister, Erik," Robert said. "Girl coming over or no girl coming over." He looked at his wife, got up from his seat, and put his arms on her. She looked up at him, and they kissed, an act as much for themselves as for their children, an act to signify their marriage bond, an act that pleased Lisa no less than Erik, even though he pretended to be oblivious to his parents' mushy episodes.

Later in her room, Lisa lay on her bed and called Brittany with some trepidation, being wholly unsure about the girl's response to an invitation to visit the family on whose property she had committed a crime. Lisa opened the call with friendly small talk about school before she hit Brittany with the invitation. "Hey--" She tried to act as spontaneous as possible to prevent the girl from thinking she and her family had been planning anything. "I have great news."

"Super. I could use some good news."

"The swallows have been nesting in their new house, and...."

"They came back. That's fantastic!"

"See, Brittany--the swallows forgive you too."

Brittany could not talk for starting to weep but did not try to hide it. She was shedding the cleansing tears of a contrite heart. "I'm glad, Lisa. So glad. But--"

Lisa waited for her to calm down then said brightly, "Hey--why don't you come over one of these days and see them?" She had suddenly gotten a notion to surprise Brittany with the new babies.

"Come over? To your house? Oh, no, Lisa. I don't...."

"Why not? I want you to. And my--the birds want you to."

Brittany laughed through her tears. "The birds. I bet they never want to see me again."

"Why don't you come over and find out. You may be surprised."

Brittany did not believe birds were smart enough to know anything about forgiving someone but she wanted desperately to see them--alive and thriving. She had sense to know that there could be real redemption in that, especially if she could somehow contribute to their welfare. "What about your parents? They must hate me too."

"They don't hate you, Brittany--none of us do. They want you to come over too." She figured she had to exaggerate her parents' acceptance to sell the invitation. Adding her brother to the mix she decided was unnecessary. Brittany would probably have no difficulty discovering his acceptance of her.

"I don't know, Lisa--"

"How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow!" Brittany did not admit that the imminence of the visit excited her.

"Tomorrow. We can walk home together after school."

Brittany was silent for a long time, so long that Lisa was about to repeat the word. "I might have a lot of homework to do."

"Homework. Come on, girl. You're not going to let homework get in the way. Are you?"

Brittany tittered brightly. "Okay. After school."

"Great! I can hardly wait. I have a surprise for you." She was unable to keep the secret completely.

"Oh--? Tell me what it is. I hate surprises."

"You have to wait. And you won't hate this one."

"God," Brittany said. "I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight."

"Me neither."

When Lisa hung up the phone, she instantly wondered if she had done the right thing, but only for a moment. The sight of those baby birds in the nest made her feel so good, she knew it was going to thrill Brittany. Mindful of another responsibility, thanks to Brittany Sample, Lisa went to her desk and opened her schoolbooks. Since her desk was beneath her bedroom window in view of the swallow house, she had difficulty keeping her mind on her homework. She watched the birds buzzing the pond and the lawn for insects and planing back to their nests in the shed. She could watch them all evening, knowing that with every visit to their home they were probably nourishing their young.

As she watched the streaking silhouettes of the birds dim in the light of dusk and then disappear with the sun, she thought back on her short stay in her new house in Sebastopol, the momentous events that had already occurred, making her feel she had lived there all her life. The last few weeks had been exhausting emotionally, though, and she longed for a peaceful time ahead when she could enjoy her new home without sadness and strife.

Now that the birds appeared to be well provided for, she thought about the other part of the yard that had captured her delight since she saw it--the pond. As she lay in bed that night she projected images through her mind of fixing the old broken down dock, getting a raft to float on the pond, and maybe swimming in it during the summer. She had never swum in a lake or pond. The thought of it was both enticing and unnerving. She was not sure she would enjoy swimming in water through which she could not see the bottom and where all kinds of strange things could be darting around her feet that dangled vulnerably in the murky water. Oooo! That would be scary! A turtle could snap my toes. Fish would swipe against my legs. Frogs. Snakes. Bugs and all kinds of tiny beasts. Maybe even magical creatures.

Lisa saw herself dive in a graceful arc off the dock and cut through the sunlit surface of the pond. Circles rippled out from her bubbling entrance. Underwater she held her breath and closed her eyes at first. Wanting to see what dwelt in the mysterious pool, though, she opened her eyes and beheld a world she had not imagined existed right outside her door.

Golden light slanted through the water in transparent columns through which long leaves swayed and strange creatures of many colors drifted. None of the animals feared her, some swimming to her face as if to examine this new visitor to their domain, then turning to wiggle on their way. Marveling how warm and soft the water felt, Lisa looked down and spied far below her the towers of a large edifice draped in algae. Dropping her head and sweeping the water with her arms, she soared through an archway and entered a vast hall. The walls were inlaid with colorful mosaics of exotic designs from ancient worlds, and big white sponges grew from the floor like pillows. She drifted to one and lay on it as if on a cloud. Gazing to the ceiling, she saw bubbles rise to the pond surface shimmering above the underwater castle. As Lisa lay there, her body floating weightless, she realized that she was not losing her breath. Opening her mouth she drew in water and discovered she could breathe. Closing her eyes, she heard faint bell sounds like vespers calling the faithful home, and her heart filled with gladness, as she swam through an unknown world.

Chapter 19

Visitor in the Light

Lisa raced to Hilary J. Worthington Middle School the next morning only to find that particular academic day to be one of the longest she had endured in her life, longer even than the day before Christmas or summer vacation. If she had been able to read Brittany Sample's mind, Lisa would have known she was feeling the same way. The two girls were so excited about their plans for the afternoon that they barely attended to their classes; Brittany was so anxious she even flubbed her lines while practicing for a new play.

The last bell rang, though, as it always does, and the budding friends marched off to Lisa's house in the hills behind the school. The day was a crystalline one, as spring days often are along the California coast. Scant shredded clouds sailed slowly across a field of burning blue. The sun was hot, but a blessed seabreeze tempered the air. Poppies were blossoming on both sides of the road. The wild grasses still green after late rains were hanging their seed out to dry as offerings to the daystar. As the girls strolled up the road, their hair lifted off their shoulders like wings and gently stroked their cheeks. When they spoke, strands got blown between their lips, wisps they absently pulled free with their fingers without interrupting their steady chatter. Lisa noticed a bruise under the makeup on Brittany's face but she quickly looked away and said nothing about it. "Now remember, Brittany--when we get to the bird house, I want you to keep your eyes closed. Promise. 'Cause if you don't you'll ruin the surprise."

"Don't worry, Lisa. I will. But you have to promise me that you won't let me fall on my face and make a fool of myself." Brittany, being the clever girl she was, had an inkling of the nature of the surprise but did not verbalize a guess, both to please her friend and to protect herself in case she was wrong. More than most anything in life, except seeing her brother become normal and her parents stop drinking, she wished for the swallows to have new babies. If she could see that, the tear in her heart could mend.

"I should warn you about my brother."

"What about him?" Brittany asked in some alarm.

"He might be there."

Brittany tittered. "Hah! For a second I thought you were going to say he's a pervert or something."

Lisa broke a half-hearted chuckle at this, but it disintegrated quickly when she realized that she had never thought of her brother to that extreme and did not want to convey the wrong impression, especially since Erik seemed hot for Brittany. "No, no--he's just, well, he's weird, you know, like all boys. He might get on your nerves. Sure gets on mine sometimes."

"Boys can do that." Brittany let a little silence grow between them then said, "I hear he's cute."

"Cute! Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, good stuff like that gets around, you know."

Lisa was so stunned she slowed her pace. "Huh. I guess he is, but I never thought of it. To me he's always been the Alien--till lately at least."

"The Alien?"

Lisa chortled into her next words. "You'll see."

Brittany smiled and looked down at the road as they walked. She could be mean and overbearing to girls but, when she fixed her eye on a good-looking boy, she was quite able to show an entirely different side of her personality.

The cool breeze blowing in from the sea refreshed them when, warm from the walk, they turned into the driveway of the Tavenor house. Brittany's eyes widened when she approached the place, as if some aura around it awed and attracted her, some ambience indicated the people there were very different from those at her place. "Are your parents home?"

"I don't know. Maybe my mom. My dad's probably at the university."

"He goes to college?"

"He's going to teach there next year. This summer too."

"He's a professor?"

Lisa nodded absently. Her father's career as a college teacher had never meant much to her except when she needed help writing reports. She noticed, though, that Brittany appeared to be impressed, so she enhanced the impression by further describing her mother's work.

"Do you see them a lot?" Brittany asked with much interest in her eyes.

Lisa shrugged. "Enough, I guess."

"I wish I could see mine less."

Lisa looked at her and wanted to ask about her parents, was actually eager to know about them since she had seen Brittany's mother, but then sensed the subject was too touchy. Maybe later she could bring it up, when they were better friends.

As soon as they stepped through the front door, Lisa called out, "Mom--we're here--" She led her guest straight to the kitchen. "I'm going to have some cookies and applesauce. Want some? They're delicious with milk."

Brittany, who was not one to relish food more than for sustenance, followed her into the kitchen but declined the treat. Susan stepped out of her workroom. "Hi, dear."

"Here's Brittany Sample, mom," Lisa said as she crunched on a cookie and washed it down with a slug of milk. "You should have one, Brittany. They're yummy." She spooned a pile of applesauce into her mouth.

"Nice to see you again, Brittany."

Brittany was inwardly racked with discomfort about again seeing a member of the family whose property she had destroyed but in her suave way she acted as genial as a well-liked neighbor girl. "You too, Mis'ess Tavenor. Thank you so much for allowing me into your home."

Susan was a bit taken aback by the social formality of this girl who had so recently caused such turmoil in their lives but she found herself instantly drawn to Brittany, not only for her unexpected sophistication and her beauty but also for something tender lying dormant beneath the slick surface. Feeling the need to escape the unsettling moment, Susan said, "Well, I've got to get back to work. If you girls need anything let me know."

"Sure, mom," Lisa tossed off as she kept her attention on her guest. "See--" She pointed through the kitchen window at the shed in the backyard, then remembered that Brittany knew too well what it was and where. The guest showed a glimmering blush, something she rarely did.

"Come on--" Lisa said, hurrying out of the house. "Let's go see them."

Brittany, in following her friend across the lawn, scanned the big yard, the apple trees, and the pond. "Oh, you have a little lake."

"Yeah," Lisa scurried to the birdhouse.

Digger appeared from the garage and ran up to Brittany. "Oh, and you have a dog!" She stopped and crouched to receive the full force of Digger's slapping tongue. Laughing, she squealed, "He's adorable!" She embraced him with both arms and kissed his head and face several times.

Lisa stopped and looked at her, rather shocked to see the haughty Queen of the Campus show such affection for another living thing and even more surprised to notice that Brittany did not seem to care about getting her carefully manicured nails dirty or her makeup mussed. Lisa wanted to hurry her along to see the birds but also wanted to watch her with Digger.

"I can't have a dog," she said with sadness hanging in the words.

"You can't?!"

"My father won't allow it. Says they're too much trouble. Everything's too much trouble for him, except opening a bottle of booze and beat--" She shut her mouth and said no more even though she was obviously bursting to tell someone her troubles.

Lisa looked at her in wanting very much to know more but let Brittany have it her way. Noticing that no further comment on the subject was coming from her, Lisa led on to the shed. "Here. Follow me. We can look through the window. It's a perfect place to see the birds without bothering them."

Lisa led her to the little building, while Brittany glanced around the area where she had caused so much damage. "Look--" Lisa said. "See them in there?"

Brittany stood beside Lisa below the window, and together they peered over the sill at the nesting birds.

"See, Brittany. They're all back in their new home. Look over in that corner. See those little beaks poking into the air--"

"Babies!"

"Oh--" Lisa exclaimed, "There are babies in some of the other nests now too. They must've hatched those since yesterday. They're going to raise a big brood."

"Babies! They're having more babies--" Brittany could barely utter the last word through the sobs swelling in her throat.

Lisa put her hand on her companion's shoulder. "I'm so glad you came over to see them, Brittany. Now you don't have to worry about them anymore. The swallows are going on with their lives."

"Do you forgive me, Lisa?" Brittany asked, looking straight into her eyes with a dreadful expression. "Do you really forgive me?"

Lisa nodded and smiled. "Yes. And so do the swallows."

"How could they forgive me? Why don't they fly away in terror? I thought they would hate the sight of me."

"Well, they might be afraid of you. I don't know. They were afraid of me in the beginning. But they got used to me, and they'll get used to you too."

Brittany made herself more visible in the window and looked closely at the birds, at their eyes to see if they recognized her and would flee their nests. The birds appeared to be looking back at her, slightly bending their heads to focus on her with one eye the way they do when they want to see something very clearly. She studied their faces for some hint of expression, wanting to see both recognition and forgiveness in them but she saw nothing of the kind. "They see me but don't seem to know who I am. Maybe they don't care."

"They can always learn to trust us," Lisa said. "All we need to do is respect them. That's what I've been doing and now I can walk into the shed and look right in their nests and they don't fly away."

The look on Brittany's face showed she wished she could do the same some day but she said nothing. The two girls were still standing by the window and watching the birds, when Erik called from the back porch. "Hey, Lisa--"

"Uh-oh. There he is," Lisa said without turning around.

Brittany turned to peer at him, sizing him up for possibilities. She watched him amble toward them with a big smile on his face. Erik had never been shy around people, especially girls, fancying himself a youthful Casanova. "Who's you're friend?" he asked, shining his most dashing look at her.

Lisa turned to look at him with a 'duh' expression on her face. "This is Brittany Sample. You know--the girl I told you was coming over today."

"Oh, yeah!" he feigned. "Hey there, Brittany--how ya doin'?"

Brittany could not help but smile at this good-looking and bold young man. "Fine."

"So what're you girls up to?"

"What does it look like, Erik?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, yeah, the birds," he said. "D'ya see any more babies?"

Both girls regarded him with surprise and curiosity at his motive for asking the question. Was he teasing them? Or was he adding his support to Lisa's effort to reassure Brittany? Whatever he was doing, Lisa was tense with worry that he would say something about the fire. Brittany, for her part, decided that the question was well meant and it pleased her. "You go to West Valley High?" she asked, now a little less interested in the birds.

"Yeah," he puffed, "I'm gonna be a junior there next year."

Brittany was all eyes, but Lisa rolled hers.

"My brother goes there too."

Both Erik and Lisa were a little surprised that she admitted the fact, so they had no idea how to respond.

"He's in special ed."

"I've seen him," Erik said, nodding but reluctant to go further with it.

"He's a little slow, but I love him dearly. He's the sweetest person in the world."

Now both Erik and Lisa had to admire her candor about a relative of whom a lot of people would be at the very least reticent to discuss. "He seems like a nice guy," Erik offered.

"Oh, he is. If you talk to him, I know you'll like him. His name's Davy."

Erik smiled and said he would do that but privately reserved a decision on any such action. His schoolmates were generally polite to and tolerant of the special education kids, but he could not remember seeing any of the 'normal' kids ever really befriend one of them.

The three young people stood beside the birdhouse, chatting amiably about school, friends, songs, movies, their plans for the summer. They were so engrossed in their conversation they did not notice Susan watching from a window in the house. She had been observing them for some time, a little concerned about this new notorious friend her daughter had invited home, but she had faith in Lisa and would let her handle the relationship in her own way. Grinning at Erik's doting on the pretty visitor, she figured that she would probably be hearing about and seeing Brittany Sample repeatedly so she had better get used to it.

Chapter 20

The Pond

Inevitably, June arrived and the schoolchildren were looking forward to graduating from their classes, not so much to mark their advancement as to signal the advent of that most longed for stretch of time during the kid year--summer break: two months of freedom from predawn alarms, interminable classes, demanding teachers, report cards, and homework. By that time Lisa and Brittany had become solid friends. The Tavenors, after getting to know Brittany, decided not to see the girl prosecuted, especially since she offered so sincerely to make amends for destroying their property. Lisa and Erik were glad to hear her offer because they would then be spending more time together. Brittany might have had a particle of that purpose in her mind too for she had become so fond of the Tavenors and their home that she was visiting more often, finding it vastly more congenial than her own. Not wanting to abandon her brother, once she felt at home at Lisa's place, she asked if she could sometimes bring Davy with her. Wanting to keep Brittany coming and compassionate toward him, Lisa and Erik received the boy along with her and gradually accepted the lad as one of their friends, noticing less and less his disadvantage.

Lisa and Brittany took special delight in the Tavenor's big backyard. Focusing initially on the bird house, they painted the outside of it chocolate brown, figuring that the swallows would appreciate it more if were similar to the color of an actual barn and that they themselves would like it even more if it resembled a huge block of their favorite candy. The two girls together painted the little building from top to bottom. Then, with Erik's help, they turned their energy to the little dock on the pond.

After strengthening the attachment of the platform to the posts still firmly embedded in the bottom, they nailed down loose slats and screwed on two cleats Robert had bought, so they could tie up a watercraft. The dock too they painted cocoa brown. "Looks good enough to eat," Robert said, as he carried from the car a rubber raft he had bought at a local sporting goods store. "Why don't you girls try this out on the pond? I got a couple of paddles for it too." The children were delighted at the prospect of making excursions on the jadegreen water.

After unfolding the rather bulky raft, Lisa and Brittany blew into the valves till nearly passing out, before Erik brought a bicycle pump from the garage. "Hey, girls--" he said with typical Erikness, "you better use this or we'll have to call the paramedics." He snickered with pleasure at his remark.

When they had fully inflated the raft, it's plastic sheen reflected the summer sunlight like a silver pontoon. Big enough for four, the two girls, Erik, and Davy crawled into the vessel, and Erik paddled across the pond, while Digger ran back & forth on the shore and barked at them his resentment for being excluded from the fun. Floating into a clump of new cattails springing up along the far bank, the four friends lay their heads against the firm, pillowy sides of the raft and stretched out beneath a cobalt sky that faded into gauzy clouds hanging above the hills, which overlooked the endless ocean. Gazing into the bright blue expanse above them, the children watched the swallows swiftly zip and flit in their daily quest for the tiny winged delicacies they prized. Davy tried to follow them with his eyes and shouted, "So fast!"

His sister turned to him, laid her hand on his head, and said, "Those are swallows, Davy. They're very fast. They have to be fast to catch mosquitoes." She looked at Lisa for confirmation of the accuracy of her new knowledge about the birds and was gratified to see her friend's nodding approval.

"That why you call dem swallows?" Davy asked.

Lisa, Erik, and Brittany looked at each to see if all were of similar mind then laughed merrily. Pleased he had made the others happy, although not entirely certain of the reason, Davy laughed too. And their laughter inspired Digger's bark.

When their mutual mirth dwindled, the voyagers let silence surround them but for lapping water, buzzing insects, and the squeaking of the swallows. "Sounds like their kissing," Brittany said.

Erik looked at her with a clever remark in his mind but postponed a comment on it and looked to his sister, who said, "Sure. They're singing to us. Happy for their beautiful new home."

A grimace at the confectionery remark contorted Erik's face, but a smile blossomed on Brittany's. She was finally forgiving herself for what she had done, the Tavenors having long since forgiven her. She looked over at Lisa watching the swallows with eyes full of innocent joy that made Brittany again want to hug her. Deciding this was the time at last for a first show of affection she got up, wobbled over to Lisa, and put her arms around her. Lisa started a bit, having been caught daydreaming, but responded to the embrace. The two girls held each other for a long time. Davy paid them no attention, fascinated by the birds zooming above his head, but Erik watched them and secretly wished for the first time in his life that he were Lisa. The world around the four children seemed to stop in honor of their youth and their fellowship. As the sun shone beneficently on their lives, an afternoon seabreeze cooled their brows, and they watched the birds perform aerial dances above them, as if for their own private show.

Brittany lay beside Lisa. Reclining in the boat, the four of them drifted beyond the pond and beyond themselves. They floated on the water in that utterly peaceful way for a long time. Not the dusking sky, not the chilling breeze, not even the call of the Tavenors to them for dinner could rouse them. Not thoughts of yesterday or those of tomorrow with all the joy, banality, and sorrow that infuse life could stir those good friends from their entrancing drift out of time and place on that quiet little pond by the house of swallows.

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Surviving early life in Los Angeles, Jack Forge has been creating art since childhood. After college, he taught English for many years. His poems, stories, graphic art, and novels have been published on the internet; one novel as a paperback. Despite the storm and stress of the world, Jack lives for art, nature, and love.

Cover by Jack Forge.

Sample Jack's other writing and connect with him at  Smashwords.

