“She’s fine!” Reece said, pulling Raven to her feet.
“It’s supposed to be touch football, Reece.”
“It was an accident.”
Ms. Taft gave him a look as she brushed grass and dirt off Raven.
“I’m okay,” Raven said. “I don’t care about being tackled.”
All the boys laughed or smiled. There were seven of them, the most that had ever been at the Taft house at one time. Jackie had invited two boys, and Huck had three friends over. It was a sleepover party, A Funeral for Summer, as Reece called it, because school started in a few days.
“Awesome catch,” Huck said. He held up his hand, and Raven slapped him five.
“Penalty for Rexes,” Jackie said. “Half the distance to the goal line.”
The Dacs, short for the Pterodactyls—named for Bird Girl—scored, but the T-Rex team still won the game.
They went inside for dinner. They made their own tacos and burritos from the many bowls of food Ms. Taft set out. At first Raven was surprised to see ground meat, but Jackie told her it was made from plants. Raven had gotten used to the vegan way of eating and even liked it.
The boys turned on a movie about people who could make magic with sticks called wands. The best part was sitting squished on the couch between Jackie and Chris, all the other boys close, joking and teasing, sometimes burping and farting. Raven could burp as loud as any of them when she drank a soda.
“Raven . . . ,” Ms. Taft said. “It’s getting dark.”
Raven had dreaded that moment all day. The party really was a funeral. The most wonderful of all summers had died. Her friends would go to school, and she wouldn’t get to see them whenever she wanted.
Even Ms. Taft wouldn’t be home now. She was a teacher who had to go to school all day. Jackie and Huck went to after-school care until she was done with her work. Jackie said they didn’t get home until dark in winter. That meant Raven wouldn’t see them at all on school days. Ms. Taft didn’t allow her to walk to or from her house in the dark. That was her one big rule.
When Raven got off the couch, one of the new boys said, “Aren’t you sleeping over?”
“No,” she said.
“Why not?” he asked.
Reece said, “Her carriage and horses turn into a pumpkin and mice if she doesn’t go before dark.” He’d said things like that since the day she ran away without her boots. When the sun sank below the trees, he’d say, “Better get going, Cinderella,” or “Your carriage is waiting, Cindy.”
“Actually, she’s a vampire, and it’s time for her to feed,” Huck said.
“I thought she was a werewolf?” Chris said.
They were making jokes so she wouldn’t have to explain to the new boys why she was leaving early. Raven loved them all so much. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want school to start.
Jackie stood. “I’ll walk you to the fence.”
He usually did, but Ms. Taft said, “No. I will. Stay and watch the movie.”
The strong way she said it made Jackie say, “Okay,” and sit down.
“Bye,” Raven said.
All the boys said goodbye.
The sun was already behind the trees, and the clouds were pretty shades of pink and purple.
“Does your mother ask where you’ve been when you’re here?” Ms. Taft asked as they walked to the fence.
Raven didn’t know how to answer. Mama had gotten used to Raven being gone all day during the weeks she was feeding Baby, and that had made going to Jackie’s house without her knowing easy. One day after Baby learned to feed herself, Mama said, “You are much more at ease alone in the woods since you raised the jay. You must enjoy your time alone with your kin.”
“Yes,” Raven said. Her stomach felt like a hard knot of wood. Because she hadn’t been alone many of those times she was away from Mama’s house.
Mama hadn’t noticed the flush of guilt Raven felt. She’d beamed, put her hand on Raven’s cheek. “I came to know the joys of being alone with the earth when I was about your age. I’m delighted to see you bonding with the spirits. Raising the bird was an important lesson for you.”
Ms. Taft stopped waiting for an answer. Like Jackie, she had learned not to press Raven with questions about Mama. “Have you thought about what we talked about last time?” she asked. “About school?”
“I think about it a lot,” Raven said.
“Have you talked to your mother?”
“No.”
She stopped walking and faced Raven. “I spoke with the principal at the school. Remember I told you that’s the person who makes decisions?”
Raven nodded.
“I’ve told her about you—how advanced your homeschooling has been—and she says she would be willing to let you into second grade. You’d only have to take a few easy tests to prove you can do second-grade work.”
“Would I be with Jackie?”
“He’s a year older, going into third grade. You would be with children your age in second grade.”
“Would I see him?”
“You would see him on the playground. And Huck, Reece, and Chris, too.” She smiled. “There aren’t many girls your age who can keep up with a pack of older boys like you did today. I’m confident the playground will be easy for you. All of school will be.”
Raven wanted to go. She wanted the playground. She even wanted the hard reading and math and tests the boys talked about. She wanted to show everyone she was smart.
“I could talk to your mother about it,” Ms. Taft said.
Raven wasn’t worried she would force a meeting anymore. She’d let Raven come over all summer without talking to Mama. But it couldn’t happen. Just getting in the gate would be a problem. And the alarms. And Mama’s surprise when she found out Ms. Taft was Raven’s friend. She sometimes thought Ms. Taft knew her better than Mama did. That hurt and felt good at the same time.
“Okay, I can see you don’t want me to talk to her,” Ms. Taft said. “But please try yourself.”
When Raven remained quiet, she said, “I know you want
