“Oh yeah, I have some bad news,” I say. “So you remember that I promised you the rest of my Honey Bunny Buns when we were at the mall with Patrick getting your new clothes? Well, I kind of ate them all. Except one.”
Birdie taps his fork on the plate.
“But I still have one,” I say, playfully elbowing him. “It’s all yours. I’ll go get it.”
“No, it’s okay, Jack. You can have it.”
“But I promised, Birdie. You should take it.”
“Yeah, but . . .” He stands up from his chair and tugs on his collar again. “You need them too.”
He only has one bite of egg left. He leaves his toast on the table and brings his plate into the living room.
Ten seconds later, I hear, “He did it!”
I stand up, but Birdie runs over to my plate, steals a small bit of egg, and then disappears into the living room again. “Come look!”
I follow and what I find is Duke sitting up in his bed, licking Birdie’s hand. “He loves it! He loves green eggs!”
• • •
Somehow, Birdie convinces me to donate the rest of my eggs to Duke. He lies under the table at our feet, just like he does with Patrick, and Birdie drops eggs to him, one little piece at a time.
I make extra pieces of toast and Birdie tells me about the bow tie he’s making for Uncle Carl.
I’m in the middle of wondering how I can get Patrick to let us go to Uncle Carl’s when the back door suddenly opens and Patrick comes in. He looks surprised to see us and glances at our plates and then at the large bowl with raw green egg streaking down the sides and the dirty pan.
“What is that?” he asks.
Duke stands up and walks out from underneath the table. Patrick frowns at him as he appears.
“It’s egg? Scrambled egg?” I say, sounding uncertain, and I hope he doesn’t think I’m lying.
“Why is it green?”
I don’t know how to explain it, about me and Mama and Birdie’s little dance and birthdays. “Um, Dr. Seuss?”
Patrick’s covered in dirt and shoves his gloves into his back pocket and goes to the sink to wash up. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he says to Duke.
“He likes the green eggs,” Birdie suddenly says. “Duke ate them right up. Mama used to make them for us. But Jack knows how too.”
Patrick turns the water off and dries his hands.
“That dog will eat anything,” he says. He goes to the fridge and grabs the last two slices of pizza. “Make sure to clean up the mess. And I’ll need your help again in the yard later . . . Come on, Duke.” Him and the dog and the pizza go out the front door.
I guess there is the pizza Patrick and there is the green eggs Patrick. We probably shouldn’t confuse the two.
• • •
After we’ve cleaned up, we hang out in Birdie’s room and now it’s my turn to watch Patrick at the window. There’s no way to sneak out without him knowing. Especially if he’s expecting us to help in the yard.
Birdie puts his sunglasses and headband on and fixes them in the mirror. “We have to do something, Jack. We have to help Uncle Carl get those balloon tickets.”
“I’m going to ask Patrick if I can go to town,” I say. “I had already agreed to meet a classmate at the library for a project. I was thinking of canceling on her, but I’m going to go. Because then I’ll figure out a way to visit Uncle Carl.”
Birdie studies me in the mirror. “Are you sure? What if Patrick finds out?”
“He won’t. It will be quick.”
Birdie puts the glasses and headband away in a drawer. He’s back to grays, blacks, and blues. But he’s smiling.
• • •
I find Patrick in the garage polishing some kind of metal pipe with an old rag.
I tell him I have to meet a friend at the library. “It’s for a school project. For English class.”
“Why don’t you meet her during school?”
“Because it’s homework.”
He twists the pipe and squints, looking off toward town and then down at the ground where Duke lies. The dog lifts his head at me, which is a first. But I don’t have any green eggs, so he goes back to his nap.
“Who’s this friend?”
“Her name is Krysten. I had already agreed to meet her before Birdie was suspended.”
He puts the tool down and picks up another and begins polishing again.
There’s no way I can mention seeing Uncle Carl. I know he’ll say no.
Finally he says, “I’ll drive you.”
A half an hour later, Patrick is dropping me off in front of the library. “Should I come pick you up? Or can you walk back?”
I know what he’s really asking. He wants to know if he can trust me to not go “wandering around.”
I say I can walk and he says okay.
I don’t wait for him to pull away from the curb before I hurry inside. If I can finish up with Krysten, I’ll still have time to visit Uncle Carl.
Ms. Perkins sits behind the reference desk helping a gray-haired man.
I hope she won’t notice me. I still haven’t talked to her since the bus trip.
Krysten is already at a table, reading a book and taking notes. She waves me over and as soon as I see the Elizabeth Bishop books, I remember that I was supposed to bring my book. The book that I don’t have anymore.
“I forgot that I lost that Elizabeth Bishop book,” I say right away.
“Oh—okay,” she says, surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever been the first to speak. “No worries, though. As you can see, the library has some.” Her eyes kind of sparkle as they roam over all the books on the table. “This woman is fascinating.”
“Yeah?”
“An unmarried woman!
