Friendship
Seymour went into deep-think mode. One eyebrow went up and one eyebrow went down. Mr. G. looked at me for a translation. I had no idea what was going on in Seymour's head. When it came to football, things were definitely weird.
Every morning when she woke, the little girl stretched and said Good Morning to the sun, the trees and the wind. Then, with hope swelling her heart, she said to the bird, "Today, maybe he'll come."
Who? The bird didn't know. And neither did the little girl. But as surely as the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, she knew she was waiting for someone.
"You tell 'em, girl!" one of the guys at the fence yelled out, and the others started laughing. The three guys didn't look like they thought it was that funny. Actually, it wasn't. This was no laughing matter. And getting people who were big and angry even angrier was not a good strategy.
I sat on a branch near the trunk and let my feet swing freely below me. It felt good to be surrounded by big green leaves. I heard a bee buzz by my ear, lured by the sweet smell of tree sap. It was one of those cloudy Vancouver days where the gray sky seemed close enough to reach up and touch. The clouds were like a blanket that warmed the air without any help from the sun. I felt like I could hide away on this branch forever.
