The Thief of Lost Time

Chapter 21: The Book of Birds

To celebrate the arrival of spring, Miss Callahan, my fifth-grade teacher, assigned a project about birds. "Your first task is to pick a bird and explain why you chose it. Who wants to start?"

Hands shot up. Paul St. George grunted, raising his hand the highest to get the teacher's attention.

"Paul? What bird did you select?"

Paul thought he was the best athlete in the class. "A falcon."

A sudden burst of whispering. Sounded like Stewart at the back of the class wanted the falcon.

"Interesting. What information about the falcon do you want to share?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you pick a falcon?"

"It has sharp claws."

"Oh, my! Nancy, what about you?"

"A crane because it's white."

"What a lovely thought, Nancy. Yes, Roger?

"Flamingos. They're pink."

The class laughed, and Roger blushed the color of a flamingo.

Peter, a short kid whose belly shook when he rounded the bases, chose a pelican.

Each student tried to outdo the other: a buzzard, an eagle, a vulture. Gerry, who had won the school spelling bee every year since the second grade, took a deep breath. He stuttered when excited. "A f-f-flightless c-c-cormorant."

Wendy was half out of her chair, waving her hand. I thought Miss Callahan was ignoring her on purpose. Wendy sat in the front row and always had an answer. Miss Know-It-All.

"Yes, Wendy. What is it?"

Wendy looked around, confident that she'd chosen the most unusual bird. "The blue-footed booby."

The class erupted into laughter. Miss Callahan clapped her hands to restore order. The bell rang [to dismiss students for lunch. I had an hour and a half to walk home, eat, and walk back to school.

At home, I told Mom about the bird project. "Wendy talked about blue boobs in class."

"Oh, that sounds interesting."

I don't think Mom was listening to me.

***

After lunch, Wendy raised her hand as soon as the teacher entered the room.

Miss Callahan sighed and brushed her long hair back behind her ear. "Yes, Wendy?"

"It's about our bird project." She held up a book with a bright red cover.

"We don't have time to discuss this—." Miss Callahan began when Wendy interrupted.

"It's a tracing book with every bird in it."

"Perhaps there'll be time to tell us about it later this afternoon."

Miss Callahan's usual answer. Wendy wouldn't get the time she wanted if she got any time at all.

***

On the way home, I ran to catch up with Wendy. She was holding the red book with her arms crossed on her chest. She stopped mumbling to herself when she saw me.

"What do you want?" We weren't friends and usually didn't speak to one another.

"Can I see the bird book?"

"Miss Callahan's so mean." Having a willing and, hopefully sympathetic, ear, Wendy unloaded her grievance. "She deliberately spent all afternoon on stupid history."