Call Me Amy (6 page)

Even though I knew I'd just stay up an extra half hour to do the assignment, his teasing made me feel fun, kind of reckless and carefree.

We were moving onto the pier, when the harbor master's truck came back from the other direction, going slow.

“Duck!” said Craig. We leaped off the side of the dock, and landed on the small beach. We shimmied over to a heap of wreckage and kept ourselves low behind it. I could hear the truck stop and the door rattle open.

The wide beam of light from Howard's flashlight swept over, just above our heads—back and forth several times.

“Anybody out there?” Howard called.

My heart thumped. Neither Craig nor I uttered a peep. Through a slit in a slab of driftwood, I watched Howard check his boat locks and then climb back into the truck.

Howard peeled out, his tires burning rubber. Covered in sand from head to toe, I rolled onto my back and started laughing. “What are we hiding for? We don't even have Pup with us!”

“Think of it as a Howie drill,” said Craig.

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, after whipping through my math, I filled four pages of my diary and then found it hard to sleep; that's how excited I was. Spring was halfway over, although the thermometers didn't seem to realize it. Hopefully, warmer weather would soon come. Already I worried about Pup's release back to the ocean. I wanted to keep him forever. All I could think about was Pup and Craig and Miss Cogshell.

O
N
M
ONDAY, IN
the school cafeteria, I noticed Craig with his friends at the next table. The kids who sat at the end of my table had already cleared out, so I sat alone as usual. It seemed to be a silent agreement between Craig and me to act like we didn't even know each other. The other boys at his table jumped up. They shot lunch bags into the barrel and tossed their trays onto the counter. I took small bites out of my cookie and pretended not to notice them.

“Come on, Craig,” shouted a kid, “baseball time.”

“Catch ya later,” mumbled Craig. He sat staring at his half-eaten lunch, both elbows supporting his head. It was rare to see him down.

I stood, popped the last of my cookie into my mouth, took a few steps, and then forced myself to stop by his table. He looked half-asleep under his shag of blond hair.

“You okay?” I asked.

Craig jerked his head up, raised one eyebrow and stifled a yawn. “I'm just thinkin' 'bout Pup,” he said. “I spent half the night trying to get him to eat something.”

“Half the night?”

“Miss C. left the door open for me. I had to sneak out of my place, then sneak back in again. Something's gotta change.” Craig looked down at his sandwich again. “I know a tub's no place for a seal, but if he doesn't learn to eat fish, he'll never survive. He was
probably still nursing when I found him. Don't know if I'm doing it wrong or if he's homesick or what.”

“Maybe they have a book on it at the library.”

He shrugged. “Beats me, but, hey, time is running out.”

“True, and who knows when I can convince my father to drive me over to Thomaston. Well, his flipper has been looking better,” I offered.

“Yeah, it's getting there. You going over today?”

I nodded, but Craig was taking aim at a breadcrumb. He snapped it with his index finger, to another table. “Well?” he said, turning to stare at me, like he really wanted an answer.

I cleared my throat. “I'll be there.”

Craig stretched, dumped his sandwich in the trash, then called back over his shoulder. “See ya later, Shrimp.”

I watched him saunter out of the lunchroom. Grrr! Couldn't he see how much I hated the name Shrimp? I guess I'd have to tell him—one of these days. Not realizing air was trapped inside, I clapped my lunch bag flat. The bang was so loud I jumped, then I looked around quick. The last few tables of kids were too busy talking to notice, but the custodian was staring at me with raised eyebrows. I tossed my bag into the barrel, and tried to keep a straight face as I, too, sauntered out of the lunchroom.

N
O MATTER WHAT
kind of day I'd had, there was a certain feeling that came over me the minute I walked into Miss Cogshell's home. I don't know if it was the cooking smells or the soothing tick-tock of the cuckoo clock, or something more. I seemed to have an ability there to think things I had never thought before. As though feelings had been stored deep inside me and were slowly being let out like air from a beach ball. I wasn't sure anymore whether I was helping Miss Cogshell, a lonely old lady, or if she was helping me.

I found Miss Cogshell in a dither hovering over Pup and Craig. “The poor little thing doesn't look too well.” She wrung her plump hands.

Pup was lying in the corner of the bathroom tub with the same long face that Craig had worn at lunchtime. A book about whales, dolphins, and seals was on the nearby countertop.

I glanced at Craig in amazement. “How did you get to the library and back so fast?”

“Don't even know how to get to the big city, never mind to the library. This belongs to Miss C. Great pictures, but zippo on feeding.” Then Craig turned away and started waving a fish around. “You must be hungry by now, Pup.”

“Don't go falling in the tub,” I said.

“Ha ha.” Craig rolled his eyes, “Why don't you try then?”

I stuck the fish in my jacket pocket, then got on my hands and knees and inched over to Pup. “Hi Pup,” I whispered. I had read an article about an orphanage and figured all babies were basically alike when it came to needs. First it's a matter of earning trust. I brought my hand out slowly and patted Pup's satin head, then up and down his long, sleek back. I could feel him relax under my hand. Little by little I slid the bottom of my jacket up over the edge of the tub, while continuing to pat Pup. Craig and Miss Cogshell watched in silence from the hallway.

After a while my hand started going numb from sliding back and forth over the spotted fur. I shifted so Pup's nose lined up in front of my jacket pocket. I kept patting with stiff fingers as I watched Pup's whiskers start to twitch. Pup's dark eyes seemed full of trust as he looked at me. After a few more minutes, Pup stuck his nose right in my pocket and pulled out the fish. I held my breath, and a second later, the fish was gone.

“Alright!” Craig cheered.

Pup stuck his nose back in.

“He wants more.” Craig tossed me another fish. I sneaked it into my pocket while Pup wasn't looking. Then I draped my jacket back over the side of the tub, and he went fishing again.

“Good job, Amy,” said Miss Cogshell. She gave a long sigh as she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Now that Pup is eating, I guess I'll go into the parlor and
relax a while.” I watched her squeeze her bulky form around the corner and for the first time wondered exactly how old she was. I felt Craig's eyes on me and glanced over at him.

“I hadn't noticed the heart before,” I said.

“Huh?” Craig wrinkled his nose.

“The little heart shape above Pup's left eye.” I pointed out the rough spot of white.

Craig leaned way in over my head to see. His jacket smelled like a fresh cut lawn. I held my breath. Then he straightened and shrugged one shoulder. “If you say so. Anyway, I hope Pup'll eat from my pocket, too. You've got the magic touch.” Craig gave me his widest smile ever, and I thought I'd melt right on the spot.

“Thanks,” I managed to say, shaking the pins and needles out of my hand, as the cuckoo started calling.

“Yikes, I've gotta go.” Craig jumped up. “My old lady's really been on my case lately.”

“I know what you mean,” I agreed. “My mom's been asking where I go every day.” I thought about how Mom's face had lit up the first time I mentioned I'd be with a friend. She'd been waiting a long time for me to have friends like Nancy had. But I wasn't ready to share my new adventures with her; not yet.

Craig stared at me while my mind returned to the present. “No, Shrimp.” He paused. “You don't know.” He headed down the hall and out through the kitchen. The backdoor slammed behind him.

Remembering Craig had been up all night trying to feed Pup, I figured he had a right to get cranky. Pup rolled over onto his back and I rubbed his belly for a few minutes until he looked ready to fall asleep.

I tiptoed into the parlor and found Miss Cogshell dozing in her big chair. It was a comfortable looking chair of soft blue, the fabric worn and faded. A cheery red-checked dish cloth hung over the top of the chair to protect where her snow-white hair pressed gently against its back. Her trusty cane, Clyde, rested at her side. Miss Cogshell's breathing joined the cuckoo clock in a soothing duet. I took the opportunity to study some of her book titles. She had a good collection of Agatha Christie books and I couldn't wait to ask her if I could read one. For now, though, I'd just borrow the book about whales, dolphins, and seals.

A new book in the house—without it following the major ordeal of a trip to the Thomaston Public Library—stood out. So, when I got home, it took Nancy all of three minutes to spot it hanging out of my book bag.

“Hmm, what's this?
Whales, Seals, & Dolphins
?” Nancy flipped it over. “Where'd you get this?”

I grabbed the book from her.

“Ew, touchy today, aren't we? Looks like little Amy's got another report due, everybody.”

“Maybe, I do. Mind your own beeswax!” The last thing I needed was for Nancy to question my sudden interest in marine mammals.

B
ETWEEN
M
ATH AND
Social Studies, Claire, one of my least favorite people, made a huge deal of passing out party invitations. She pretended to sneak them onto each desk, but those of us who were left out would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to have noticed.

I kept my eyes on my book while Pamela Johnson, who'd been crazy about Craig since first grade, and who was my
very
least favorite person, helped out her best friend by delivering one to Craig.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him open it. He held the card up for a moment and I could read every word. The invitation said: “A boy-girl party this Saturday at 4!! Pizza, games, and lots of fun!! Be there or be square!!”

Hmm, guess I'd be square then.

I
SPENT THE
rest of the week pretending not to notice or care about Claire's party. There had to be other kids not going, but those who were going made the most noise, until it seemed everyone would be there. I told myself it didn't matter. I mean just because I liked pizza and playing games didn't mean I had anything in common with Claire and Pamela. I wondered what motivated the other kids to go along with the crowd. Or was I kidding myself? Would I, too, have jumped at the chance to go?

I watched Pamela reapply her lipstick for the third time.

No, I decided. I was better off by myself. I just wished it didn't feel so lousy.

O
N
S
ATURDAY
, C
RAIG
left Miss Cogshell's house a few hours before me. I figured he was going home to get ready for Claire's party.