The Truth of Me Read online

  The Breathing of Animals

  I wake early. Maddy is still sleeping. A slice of first light comes through the tent door, but the sun hasn’t come up. I put my hand over to touch Ellie. She isn’t there.

  Very quietly I slide from my sleeping bag and look out of the tent.

  And there is Ellie, sitting quietly. Just behind her a deer and a fawn are grazing. On the log are two raccoons eating something. A rabbit, then another, then two more come out of the woods. Chipmunks race after each other in the underbrush. Ellie sits there very silently. Once her tail wags. The animals don’t seem to see her. Or if they do, they don’t mind.

  I slide back into the tent and touch Maddy’s shoulder. She looks up right away. I don’t speak, but Maddy sees me looking out of the tent. She crawls from her sleeping bag and looks, too.

  “Oh, yes,” she says softly. “Look at that good dog. Just look at her.

  “Good work, Robbie,” whispers Maddy.

  “Good work, Maddy,” I whisper back.

  We watch for a while, then quietly come out of the tent. I wait for the animals to run off.

  But the animals stay.

  I sit on the other end of where the raccoons sit, listening to them eat and chatter.

  I hear the breathing of animals.

  Ellie comes over for me to pat her.

  The sun comes up, spreading light.

  The deer raise their heads to see it.

  But the animals stay.

  “Want to camp again tonight?” asks Maddy.

  Maddy has scrambled eggs in a black frying pan over the fire. Ellie has eaten her breakfast.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Maddy nods and I grin.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You’re beginning to nod like Henry.”

  Maddy nods again.

  We both laugh.

  “When you spend time with people, you begin to act like them. And think like them sometimes,” says Maddy.

  “I plan to act and think like you,” I say.

  Maddy is silent.

  She blinks her eyes, and I think she is trying not to cry.

  Ellie gets up and stands between us, waiting for whatever food is left. The animals have gone with the sun—disappearing into the cool, dark woods.

  We come off the mountain in the afternoon. We leave the tent up, with the sleeping bags inside. Maddy and I each take a handle of the food basket and walk down the hill.

  “I can’t wait to tell Henry about the animals,” I say.

  “Henry won’t believe it,” says Maddy. “He doesn’t think it’s true.”

  I look at Maddy for so long that she finally looks back at me over the basket.

  “The truth is, Henry doesn’t care if it’s true,” I tell her. “He told me he likes you the way you are.”

  This time Maddy can’t blink the tears away. I pretend I don’t see.

  But Ellie looks up, watching Maddy. When Maddy doesn’t look at Ellie, she nudges her hand with her nose. Ellie does it again. And again, until finally Maddy reaches over to stroke Ellie’s head.

  9

  Cranky Tom

  When we get to Maddy’s house, Henry is sitting on the bench by the garden.

  “Where have you two been?”

  “Camping. We saw animals,” I tell Henry. “I sat with raccoons.”

  Henry raises his eyebrows.

  “Really.”

  “Really.”

  “The door is open,” saysMaddy.

  “Your door is always open, Maddy. I like the sun. Do you know you have a little rabbit eating your lettuce?”

  “I do,” says Maddy. “That’s Peter. He comes through a little space I made in the fence at the far end.”

  “Peter?” I say. “You mean Peter Rabbit?”

  Henry and I burst out laughing.

  Ellie goes over to Henry for ear scratching.

  “Eleanor,” says Henry.

  “How’s Cranky Tom?” asks Maddy.

  Henry shakes his head.

  “Cranky. Not good since Rufus died.”

  “Why don’t you take Ellie over for a visit?” says Maddy.

  Henry looks at Ellie closely for a moment, then at me.

  “Would you do something for me, Kiddo?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “I have an old patient that I call Cranky Tom. His dog, Rufus, died two weeks ago. Tom’s missing him. Would you bring Ellie to visit him? I think it would help. We can walk there.”

  “Sure. Ellie can make anyone feel better,” I say.

  “Go ahead,” says Maddy. “I’ll clean up and get things ready for tonight.”

  “What’s tonight?” asks Henry.

  “Camping,” Maddy and I say together.

  “I see.”

  “Want to come?” I ask Henry.

  “Of course not,” says Henry, making Maddy laugh.

  Henry and Ellie and I walk down the road to Tom’s house.

  “Raccoons?” asks Henry.

  “Raccoons,” I say.

  We come to a small house set back from the road.

  “Here we are,” says Henry. “Cranky Tom’s house.”

  We walk up the dirt driveway. Henry opens the door.

  “Tom?” he calls.

  “What?”

  “I’ve come with a visitor. Two visitors.”

  “I don’t like visitors.”

  Henry smiles at me.

  “You’ll like these visitors,” he says.

  He beckons me into the house.

  In the living room is a very old man, sitting in a very old chair.

  “What?” says the man.

  “This is Kiddo,” says Henry. “Meet Tom.”

  “What kind of name is Kiddo?”

  “It’s my name for him,” says Henry.

  “My name is Robert,” I say.

  “I knew a Robert once. He was very bad.”

  “I’m not him,” I say.

  Tom laughs for a long time.

  “And this is Ellie,” I say.

  Tom peers at Ellie, and his face changes.

  “Oh, lovely. Here, Ellie.”

  Ellie walks over to Tom.

  He scratches her behind an ear. He strokes her head.

  “She has hound in her,” Tom says. “Look at that beautiful face.”

  Tom stops patting her, and Ellie puts her head on his knees.

  “Oh, nice girl,” says Tom. “My dog’s name was Rufus.”

  “Better name than Robert,” I say.

  Tom laughs again. Then he looks up at me.

  “I miss him,” he says softly.

  “I would miss Ellie,” I say. “Would you like Ellie to visit you every day? We’re staying at Maddy’s house this summer. She’s my grandmother.”

  “I like Maddy. I like you. And I like Ellie. That would be nice,” says Tom.

  I take a dog snack out of my pocket.

  “You can give her this if you want. Be careful. Sometimes she thinks a finger is a snack.”

  Tom feeds Ellie a snack.

  “Rufus always bit me by mistake,” says Tom.

  “We’ll come again,” I tell Tom.

  Tom looks closely at me.

  “I’d like that.”

  “So would I,” I say. “You’re not cranky at all.”

  Tom smiles.

  “Oh, yes I am,” he says.

  Henry, Ellie, and I walk back to Maddy’s.

  “Thanks, Kiddo.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I wanted to take his blood pressure. I knew it would go down when he was petting Ellie. But I didn’t want to disturb him. Remember that. Dogs are good for your blood pressure.”

  I look up at Henry.

  “I wish you would come camping with Maddy and me.”

  “Maybe someday I will.”

  We’d remember Henry’s words later.

  10

  Friends

  Maddy and I carry the food basket through the meadow, up the path through th
e woods, to the top of the hill.

  Ellie jumps and twirls on the way up.

  “She likes camping,” I say.

  “So do I,” says Maddy.

  “So do I,” I say.

  It is late afternoon, and the light is flat, coming through the trees.

  “What are we eating for dinner?” I ask.

  “Hamburgers,” says Maddy. “I put in an ice pack. And buns and pickles and chips and sliced tomatoes and some of my baked beans with molasses. There are cookies. And corn bread,” she adds quickly.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Corn bread,” says Maddy.

  “For breakfast?” I ask.

  “Maybe,” says Maddy.

  Our tent is there in the clearing.

  I unzip the flap and make sure the lantern is inside with our sleeping bags.

  “Maybe we’ll see shooting stars tonight,” says Maddy. “I think we should sleep outside.”

  “You mean here? Under the sky?”

  “You’ll like it. It’s the only way to see shooting stars. I’ll start the fire. I want it to burn down so we have some nice coals for cooking.”

  Maddy starts a small fire and takes out the black frying pan.

  The fire smells good. The woods smell good.

  The light fades. Soon we’ll see a sunset.

  Ellie stands by the woods looking at something. Her ears go up.

  “Ellie,” I say quietly, the way Maddy has taught me.

  Ellie sits and watches three deer—two does and a fawn—come out of the woods. They look at us. They look at Ellie. Then they walk about, eating leaves. Ellie sits down, watching them. She shakes a bit and whines.

  “It’s all right, Ellie,” I say.

  “She’s not scared,” says Maddy. “She’s excited.”

  Maddy turns to look at the deer. But suddenly, as I watch, she loses her balance and falls over the log.

  “Maddy!”

  Maddy is lying cheekdown in the dirt and twigs. The log has rolled onto her leg. She doesn’t move. I shake her arm.

  “Maddy? Are you all right?”

  Maddy makes a groaning sound. She tries to turn over.

  “My foot,” she says. “Can you lift the log off me, Robbie?”

  I kneel next to her and lift the log away.

  Maddy cries out.

  “I’m sorry, Maddy,” I say.

  “It’s okay. There’s a pillow in the tent,” she says. “Can you get it, and I can sit up against the log?”

  I run into the tent and find a pillow.

  I put it behind her, and I put my arms under her arms to pull her so she can lean against it.

  Her face is pale.

  “Can you take off my boot, Robbie?”

  “Maddy, I should go get help. I should get Henry!”

  “Just take off my boot,” says Maddy, her voice sounding shaky. I’ve never heard her voice shaky before. “My sock, too, if you can.”

  I undo her shoelaces. I loosen them. I pull off the boot. I try to be gentle, but Maddy cries out again. It hurts her more when I take off her sock.

  And then I look up. And behind Maddy I see a black bear standing there, watching us.

  I look quickly at Ellie. Her ears have gone up again. She whimpers.

  “Ellie. Come. Good girl,” I say as softly as I can.

  Ellie growls.

  “Come,” I say again.

  Ellie comes over to me. I hold her collar.

  “Maddy,” I whisper.

  “I’m all right, Robbie,” she says. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “Maddy,” I whisper again. “There’s a bear behind you.”

  Maddy can’t turn around to look.

  “Get the corn bread,” she says softly. “In the basket. Wrapped in foil.”

  “Can you hold Ellie’s collar?” I ask.

  “Yes,” says Maddy.

  Very slowly I go over to the basket and look inside. There is a foil package.

  I carry it to Maddy.

  “Unwrap it,” says Maddy, her voice sounding weaker. “Put half of it away from us, where the bear can see it.”

  I unwrap the bread.

  “Stay, Ellie,” says Maddy.

  “You can take the corn bread near the bear now,” says Maddy.

  I’ve never done anything in my whole life harder than what I’m doing now. I move over slowly, the bear watching me with small eyes. Such small eyes for such a bear. I put the corn bread on the ground.

  I move back to Maddy. I can feel my heart beating.

  “What is the bear doing?” asks Maddy.

  “Sniffing,” I say.

  Maddy smiles a bit.

  “My friend.”

  The bear moves in a kind of lumbering walk over to the corn bread. He lies down and eats.

  I see Ellie shaking, and I reach over and hold on to her collar again.

  “Ellie’s shaking,” I say.

  “Excited,” says Maddy.

  “The bear is eating,” I say to Maddy.

  “Robbie. I can’t walk. My whole leg hurts. My head hurts, too. We’ll have to get Henry. You’ll have to go.”

  It’s still light out. I think of leaving Maddy, and I know I can’t do that.

  “No. I won’t leave you.”

  “We have to get Henry,” says Maddy.

  “I know.”

  Maddy is sweating now.

  “I’m feeling dizzy, Robbie,” says Maddy.

  I go into the tent and get her sleeping bag and cover her.

  “Thank you, Robbie,” she says, her voice low.

  And then I know what to do.

  “Maddy?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sending Ellie,” I say.

  Maddy’s eyes are closed.

  “Ellie can do it,” I say. “She knows Henry and knows how to get there.”

  I take a notebook and pen out of my pocket.

  I write a note.

  Henry,

  Maddy is hurt. She can’t walk. We’re camping at the top of the hill. We need you.

  Bring a sleeping bag.

  Kiddo

  “Ellie,” I whisper. “Come.”

  Ellie looks at me. With a small sigh, she gets up and comes over.

  I take one of Maddy’s shoelaces and tie the note to Ellie’s collar.

  I give Ellie a snack.

  “Ellie. Henry. Go to Henry,” I say.

  Ellie looks at me. Then she looks at the bear.

  “Ellie. Henry. Go now. Go!”

  My voice is sounding as shaky as Maddy’s voice.

  But Ellie goes.

  She runs down the hill a ways and turns and looks at me.

  “Go. Good girl. Find Henry!” I call.

  Ellie turns and runs farther down the hill, not looking back.

  Soon she’s out of sight.

  “Henry will come,” I say to Maddy.

  Her eyes are closed, and she doesn’t answer.

  I don’t like that. I want her to talk to me.

  I go into the tent and get my sleeping bag.

  I lie down next to Maddy and watch the bear.

  I’m scared.

  But it isn’t the bear that scares me.

  What scares me is that Maddy is hurt, and she is not talking to me.

  “Maddy,” I say softly.

  “Yes,” she says, her eyes still closed.

  I’m so happy to hear her voice that I can hardly speak.

  “Henry will come.”

  “Yes,” she says, her voice faint.

  I look over at the bear, still eating happily.

  And then there is a movement right next to me. I turn.

  It is a bobcat.

  “Maddy?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s a bobcat. This can’t be real.”

  “It is real, Robbie. Touch him,” Maddy says in a soft voice. “He trusts me. He trusts you.”

  Suddenly, for a reason I don’t know, I’m not scared anymore. I reach out and touch the si
lver side of the bobcat. I can feel his body ripple with my touch.

  I lie back down next to Maddy.

  “Has he ever been touched before?” I ask.

  “No,” says Maddy. “You’re the first.”

  I grin. The first! Maybe I have gifts like Maddy.

  The rabbits come as we lie there. The raccoons come and sit on the log near us.

  “Friends,” says Maddy softly.

  Night is coming. I light the lantern, but the fire still burns.

  We wait.

  11

  Shooting Stars

  The air is cool now. But the animals are still there. Maddy is sleeping. She has no color in her face. I hear the rustling of rabbits and chipmunks. I hear the chatter of raccoons.

  The sun has set.

  “Maddy,” I whisper.

  No answer.

  I hear a new sound.

  Something coming.

  I stand up to look.

  Ellie!

  Ellie stops at the clearing, waiting. She looks at the animals.

  “Come, Ellie,” I call to her.

  She walks into the clearing.

  Behind her is Henry. He carries his medical bag and a sleeping bag. He’s wearing a backpack, too.

  He stops, staring at the sight: the bear, the deer, the rabbits, the raccoons on a log, the bobcat.

  “It’s all right, Henry,” I say to him.

  I start to cry then.

  Henry comes over and puts his arms around me. Ellie licks my hand.

  The animals don’t move away.

  “Maddy fell over the log and hurt her foot. I took off her boot and sock.”

  “That’s good,” says Henry.

  He becomes the doctor, not Henry, touching Maddy’s face, putting his hand on her forehead.

  “Henry?” says Maddy in a soft voice.

  “I’m here,” he says.

  He smooths her hair.

  “You came camping,” she whispers.

  Henry smiles at me.

  “It’s the pain,” he says.

  “She hasn’t been talking. She said she felt dizzy,” I say.

  “Did she hit her head?”

  “I think so. She said her head hurt.”

  He looks at the bear, who looks back at him.

  Then he looks behind me.

  “Is that a bobcat?” he says in a voice so soft I can hardly hear him.

  “Yes.”

  Henry shakes his head.

  “This isn’t real,” he says.

  “That’s what I said,” I tell him. “But I touched him. He’s real.”