Wishtree(14)

“Let her try,” I said.

Carefully, BigYou inched her way out onto the limb where Samar’s wish was tied.

She was indeed heavy, and my branch bowed under her weight, but I held firm. She toyed with the knot, using both front paws. Before long, she’d pulled the strip free.

“Ta-da!” she cried, clutching the fabric in her right paw.

“Well, I did the hard part,” Bongo sulked.

“It was a joint effort,” I said. “Teamwork. And much appreciated, both of you.”

“You have the wish,” said Agnes. “Now what, Red?”

“Now we wait until Samar comes to visit,” I said. “And then Bongo works her magic.”





28


The moon bathed us all in cool blue light as we awaited Samar’s nightly visit.

She came out in her robe and slippers. Sitting on her blanket, she waited patiently as the babies scrambled over to see her. Around her neck, she was wearing the beribboned key that Bongo had given her.



“Where’s my crow friend?” she whispered, as the Yous somersaulted in front of her. She looked up into my branches, and I was glad I’d instructed Bongo to hide on Stephen’s roof.

Right on schedule, Bongo flew to Stephen’s bedroom window. She settled on the sill. Samar’s fabric scrap dangled in her beak.

Carefully, she tapped on Stephen’s window.

Nothing happened.

I’d told Bongo to be as quiet as possible. We didn’t want Samar to see what we were up to.

Tap, tap, tap. Louder this time.

Still nothing.

Stephen, apparently, was quite a sound sleeper.

Bongo looked at me. Her eyes said “Now what?”

She tried again. TAP, TAP, TAP.

Samar started. “What was that?” she asked.

Fortunately, Harold distracted her with an attempt to fly onto her arm. It was more awkward hop than flight, and Samar giggled.

Good going, little Harold, I thought.

Bongo dropped Samar’s wish onto the sill. TAP. TAP. TAP.

Nothing.

She paced back and forth in front of the window. Then she froze.

Her eyes glinted in the moonlight.

Bongo leaned close to the glass and performed her very best fire engine siren.

By the time Stephen’s window flew open, Bongo was already back on the roof, watching her efforts pay off.

Stephen peered out. He rubbed his eyes. He noticed the scrap on his sill. Frowning, he held it up, catching the moonlight in order to read the words written on the fabric.

He looked down at the lawn.

There was Samar, looking up at him, surrounded by an odd collection of baby animals.

“You rock,” said Bongo.





29


When Stephen eased out the front door, he was wearing red pajamas and a gray sweatshirt. His light brown hair was mussed, his eyes bleary. The flashlight he was carrying sliced through the darkness.

The babies turned toward him and froze. Their eyes glowed like little moons.

Flash squealed in fear.

Stephen clicked off his light, and Flash seemed to calm a bit, although he was definitely hiccuping.

“Hey,” Stephen whispered.

“Hi,” Samar whispered back.

Stephen sat down next to Samar. The babies watched with interest.

“Why do they come to you?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s like magic.”

“No.” Samar shook her head. “I’m just … quiet. They like that.”

Bongo flew down to Samar’s shoulder. “Hello,” she said to Stephen, mimicking Samar’s voice.

“Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing.”

“Yesterday I heard her imitate a doorbell.”

Stephen grinned.

“She gave me this key,” Samar said, holding it up. “I don’t know what it’s for. A diary or a jewelry box, maybe.”

“Or the world’s smallest door,” Stephen joked.

For a while, everyone fell silent. Even the baby raccoons were still.

At last Stephen held out his hand, revealing Samar’s wish. “I found this,” he said.

Even in the moonlight, Samar’s blush was visible. She looked away.

“I’m sorry about that word,” Stephen said softly. “The word on the tree. We didn’t … It wasn’t us.”

Samar nodded.

“My parents aren’t bad people. They’re just … afraid of things.” Stephen shrugged.

“So are mine,” said Samar. “I heard my father talking about moving. If we can find a safe place to go.” She gave a sad smile. “If there even is such a place.”

“I’m sorry,” Stephen said again.

The babies, sensing Stephen could be trusted, began to tussle and romp. Harold and the smallest You searched for bugs. RosePetal and her brother, HotButteredPopcorn, played tug-of-war with a long piece of grass.

“I’ll miss them,” Samar said.

“I hope you don’t move,” Stephen said.

A light blinked on in Stephen’s house. “I should go,” he said. “If my parents see me … I should go.”

“Night,” Samar said in a whisper.