returning?”
Scotty said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He hung up the phone, walked across the kitchen to look at the brochure that the Judge had taped on the refrigerator. St. Mary’s Retreat in Rochester, Minnesota.
“Looks like a church,” Scotty said once.
“It’s not a church, though,” the Judge said. “It’s a place where people go to get well.”
Scotty would decorate the letters Claire and Maggie wrote. Sometimes he drew in the margins or colored around words.Mostly he’d print his name all over each piece of paper: “Scotty,” as if it were an advertisement. “Scotty,” as if he were campaigning. “Scotty.”
Joan wrote postcards back in which she always thanked her kids for keeping her mailbox filled. “Send me your drawings and watercolors,
please.
Make me a masterpiece. My walls are too, too bare.”
(12)
For days Scotty only thought about his conversation with Andrew Crow.
Fourth base, the home run, had no appeal, Scotty decided. It didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t see how it was possible. Anyway he felt more comfortable with his fingers. He used them daily, moved them every which way, and, of course, he was adept at hand shadows.
A week after his conversation with Andrew Crow, and after the class had watched a short film on Johnny Appleseed, Mrs. Boyden asked Scotty if he’d like to demonstrate his talent for making shadows. “I’ve heard so much about it,” Mrs. Boyden said. “Now seems like a good time.”
Suddenly Scotty was making his way down the aisle, and his classmates were whispering, “Make the bird, make the rabbit, make the alligator!”
Mrs. Boyden left the projector light on for Scotty. She looked forward to watching him, of course, but she encouraged him for a more important reason. Early in her career, Mrs. Boyden had taught a young girl who loved to announce her assessment of the weather. This girl did so every morning afterthe Pledge of Allegiance. This girl grew up to be a weather-woman for a station in Chicago. Mrs. Boyden felt somehow she had done her part to nurture. She wondered if the same might hold true for Scotty Ocean; perhaps he would grow up to be a puppeteer and one day work on the
Kukla, Fran, and Ollie
show.
One could never know.
Scotty approached the center of the room. He stuck one hand in front of the projector light. It looked huge on the screen. He made a fist. The class grew quiet. Mrs. Boyden leaned on the windowsill, ready, too, to enjoy the show. Most classmates called out for the bird, a few requested the shark, and Carole Staley begged for the butterfly. Carole Staley’s mother had told Carole, who told Scotty that she (Carole) had been, in a previous incarnation, a butterfly. Carole suggested perhaps she and Scotty had maybe been butterflies together. Scotty could think of no worse punishment than being the same creature as Carole Staley.
He held his fist motionless for a long time. The requests for various animals came pouring in. Finally, Mrs. Boyden quieted the group. “Scotty won’t do his show until everyone is quiet. Isn’t that right, Scotty?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When all was quiet, except for the hum of the movie projector, Scotty began. “This is a new bird I’ve been working on,” he said. “The first time ever seen.”
“Ooo,” whispered some classmates. Mrs. Boyden beamed.
Scotty extended one finger, his forefinger, and wiggled it slowly. “This is a special kind of bird,” he announced. “The third base bird!”
Only David Bumgartner and Dan Burkhett laughed. Only Bumgartner and Burkhett knew the meaning of third base andonly because Scotty had told them. Mrs. Boyden apparently knew the meaning, too, because she promptly turned off the projector and sent the others off to an early recess. She then informed Scotty he would be staying inside.
The worst punishment.
As the others played outdoors—skipping rope, swinging, going down the slide and up the rope ladder—Scotty sat at his
Scotty said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He hung up the phone, walked across the kitchen to look at the brochure that the Judge had taped on the refrigerator. St. Mary’s Retreat in Rochester, Minnesota.
“Looks like a church,” Scotty said once.
“It’s not a church, though,” the Judge said. “It’s a place where people go to get well.”
Scotty would decorate the letters Claire and Maggie wrote. Sometimes he drew in the margins or colored around words.Mostly he’d print his name all over each piece of paper: “Scotty,” as if it were an advertisement. “Scotty,” as if he were campaigning. “Scotty.”
Joan wrote postcards back in which she always thanked her kids for keeping her mailbox filled. “Send me your drawings and watercolors,
please.
Make me a masterpiece. My walls are too, too bare.”
(12)
For days Scotty only thought about his conversation with Andrew Crow.
Fourth base, the home run, had no appeal, Scotty decided. It didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t see how it was possible. Anyway he felt more comfortable with his fingers. He used them daily, moved them every which way, and, of course, he was adept at hand shadows.
A week after his conversation with Andrew Crow, and after the class had watched a short film on Johnny Appleseed, Mrs. Boyden asked Scotty if he’d like to demonstrate his talent for making shadows. “I’ve heard so much about it,” Mrs. Boyden said. “Now seems like a good time.”
Suddenly Scotty was making his way down the aisle, and his classmates were whispering, “Make the bird, make the rabbit, make the alligator!”
Mrs. Boyden left the projector light on for Scotty. She looked forward to watching him, of course, but she encouraged him for a more important reason. Early in her career, Mrs. Boyden had taught a young girl who loved to announce her assessment of the weather. This girl did so every morning afterthe Pledge of Allegiance. This girl grew up to be a weather-woman for a station in Chicago. Mrs. Boyden felt somehow she had done her part to nurture. She wondered if the same might hold true for Scotty Ocean; perhaps he would grow up to be a puppeteer and one day work on the
Kukla, Fran, and Ollie
show.
One could never know.
Scotty approached the center of the room. He stuck one hand in front of the projector light. It looked huge on the screen. He made a fist. The class grew quiet. Mrs. Boyden leaned on the windowsill, ready, too, to enjoy the show. Most classmates called out for the bird, a few requested the shark, and Carole Staley begged for the butterfly. Carole Staley’s mother had told Carole, who told Scotty that she (Carole) had been, in a previous incarnation, a butterfly. Carole suggested perhaps she and Scotty had maybe been butterflies together. Scotty could think of no worse punishment than being the same creature as Carole Staley.
He held his fist motionless for a long time. The requests for various animals came pouring in. Finally, Mrs. Boyden quieted the group. “Scotty won’t do his show until everyone is quiet. Isn’t that right, Scotty?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When all was quiet, except for the hum of the movie projector, Scotty began. “This is a new bird I’ve been working on,” he said. “The first time ever seen.”
“Ooo,” whispered some classmates. Mrs. Boyden beamed.
Scotty extended one finger, his forefinger, and wiggled it slowly. “This is a special kind of bird,” he announced. “The third base bird!”
Only David Bumgartner and Dan Burkhett laughed. Only Bumgartner and Burkhett knew the meaning of third base andonly because Scotty had told them. Mrs. Boyden apparently knew the meaning, too, because she promptly turned off the projector and sent the others off to an early recess. She then informed Scotty he would be staying inside.
The worst punishment.
As the others played outdoors—skipping rope, swinging, going down the slide and up the rope ladder—Scotty sat at his
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