Wish by Barbara O'Connor Page A

big rat’s nest and searched for something to say. But then Bertha jumped right in and said, “Well, looky here who showed up on our doorstep, Charlie!” She held the door open. “Howard Odom in need of some cinnamon toast, I bet,” she said. “Or cereal. Or eggs. Or grits. You need some grits, Howard?”
    He stepped inside and shook his head. “No, ma’am.” Then he turned to me and said, “Wanna pick wild strawberries?” He held up an empty milk carton with the top cut off. “I know where there’s tons.”
    â€œUm…” I pushed hair out of my eyes. “I … um…”
    â€œY’all go on and pick strawberries,” Bertha said. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.” She nodded in the direction of the trap at the edge of the yard.
    And then I collapsed into a puddle of sorrow on the couch and told Howard about Wishbone running off. When I finished, all I wanted to do was flop down and cry, but Howard said, “What are you sitting here for? Let’s go find him!” Then the next thing I knew he was out the door and grabbing his bike, leaving me to run to my room to get dressed and scramble after him.

 
    Eighteen
    Me and Howard rode our bikes up and down that mountain road all morning long. We tromped through woods, pushing our way around thick shrubs and stepping over pricker bushes. We went back to the creek behind Howard’s house three times, calling and whistling. We peered under porches and opened sheds and circled barns. By lunchtime, the blazing summer sun overhead left pockets of melted asphalt in the road and trickles of sweat down our backs.
    We didn’t talk much, and that was fine by me. I’d gone over and over in my head how I would say I’m sorry to Howard for what I’d said about his wish. But whenever I thought the time was right, my mouth went dry and my throat squeezed up and the words I’d planned to say stayed bottled up inside.
    We went back to Gus and Bertha’s a few times to check the trap, but the table scraps were still in the pie tin. We had lunch on Howard’s front porch, sitting on the couch eating Vienna sausages and cold pork and beans off of paper plates on our laps. Dwight and Cotton were out in the yard throwing rocks at the mailbox. They hit the metal with a loud thwang and left little dents on the sides.
    Mrs. Odom came out and told them to stop, and then she sat on the couch and told me not to worry. She was sure Wishbone would come back.
    â€œYou got to think positive,” she said.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I mumbled.
    Did she know I’d said that mean thing to Howard? If she knew, I bet she wouldn’t want me on her team anymore.
    That afternoon Burl drove us into town to search parking lots and Dumpsters. Dwight and Lenny made some Lost Dog signs and we nailed them to telephone poles and fence posts.
    It was almost suppertime when me and Howard rode our bikes back to Gus and Bertha’s and checked the trap one more time. Then we sat in lawn chairs out by the garden and watched dragonflies flit over the tops of the marigolds.
    In my head, I said, “Howard, I’m sorry I said that about your wish. You know, about your up-down walk?”
    Then I’d say, “Shoot, nobody even cares about your up-down walk.”
    But then, he’d know that was a big, fat lie, ’cause he saw those kids leaving him out of their kickball games and cutting in line in front of him like he was invisible.
    So I sat there in silence with my thoughts spinning in my head. Maybe he didn’t care about what I said. I mean, he was still being nice to me. He was helping me look for Wishbone.
    â€œYou sure do look forlorn,” Howard said.
    I didn’t know one other kid in the whole world who would use the word forlorn . But that was the perfect word to describe me.
    Forlorn.
    Just before supper, Jackie called and told me she went to see