Fish in a Tree (16 page)

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“So, what’s it like?” Oliver asks before his body has
even come to a stop in front of my desk. “What’s it
like
? This thing you have. Dystopia or whatever.”

“Dyslexia?”

“Yeah. What’s it
like
?”

“Well . . . ,” I begin, but don’t have an answer.

“Don’t you see everything backward? That’s what I hear.” He squints. “Wait. Do you see me backward right now?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think so.” Then, a mind movie of the butterflies at the museum drops into my head and I look back up at him. “It’s kind of like the letters on the page flutter like butterflies.”

His face scrunches up. “Wait. You mean they move? The letters
move
?”

I nod.

His eyes widen. “That is
so.
Cool!
You’re so lucky. Letters just stand there all boring when I read. I hate reading. I’d rather do anything in the world than read.”

“Really?” I ask, wishing that the letters would just stand still for me and wait to be read.

He gasps a little, as if he can’t believe that I don’t agree. “Uh, yeah? Are you kidding? Last summer, my mother kept giving me the choice of reading or washing her car. She had the cleanest car in the neighborhood all summer long.”

I smile because I really like Oliver. I’ve been thinking about myself so much, I never really noticed how funny he is.

And looking around the room, I remember thinking that my reading differences were like dragging a concrete block around every day, and how I felt sorry for myself. Now I realize that
everyone
has their own blocks to drag around. And they all feel heavy.

I think of that word Mr. Daniels used when he talked about the famous people with dyslexia.
Grit.
He said it’s being willing to fail but try again—pushing through and sticking with something even if it’s hard. He also told us that a lot of those famous people were not afraid to make mistakes no matter how many they made. I think messing up will bother me less than it used to.

• • •

Keisha, Albert, and I are hanging out on the playground when Shay and a few of her clones come over. “So, you really have that thing that Mr. Daniels was talking about, right?” Shay asks.

“Yeah,” I say, feeling proud of it after his talk.

“So, dyslexia . . . Don’t you see letters backward or something?”

“Sort of,” I reply, not sure exactly, since I’ve never seen letters the way other people have.

“Figures,” she says. “My brother is in kindergarten and he can see them the right way.” She looks at me like she always has. It bugs me, but not like it used to.

Albert steps forward. “Do
you
ever see letters backward, Shay?”

“No. Are you
kidding
me?”

“Oh,” Albert says, dropping his voice. “Too bad.”

“Why is that too bad?”

“Oh, well, you know it’s a sign of intelligence.” And then this thing just comes over Albert. Like he’s all relaxed and everything. Standing in a way that isn’t all stiff and Albert-like. “I know that you think I’m a nerd and everything,” he says to her. “I mean, you’ve called me all kinds of things. But there is one thing you’ve never called me.”

“What could
that
be?”

“Dumb. You’ve never called me dumb.”

She swings her hip to the side and sighs. “What is your
point,
Albert?”

“Well, there are a lot of letters that I’ve always seen backward. And Ally sees more than I do. So, who knows how smart
she
must be.”

Wait.
Albert sees letters
back
ward?

Shay is thinking about it, looking like she just found out that she’s the only one not invited to a party. “What letters do
you
see backward?”

“Well, O, I, T, A, M, V, X, U . . . and some others.”

Huh?

Wow. Shay at a loss for words? I never thought I’d see that. “C’mon,” she finally says. “I have better things to do.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Jessica says. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“
Obviously,
” Shay says. “You wouldn’t dare
not
be.”

Shay leaves and her group follows. But they don’t all stomp away like they usually do. A few walk behind her. Half looking back.

Jessica turns and jogs back to us, and I can tell right away she’s different. “Hey, I think it’s cool. The dyslexia. And you really are a good artist,” she says, and then turns to walk away again. Then stops. Turns back. “And . . . I’m really sorry, Ally. For everything,” she says before turning to run this time.

My mom was right. “I’m sorry” are powerful words.

“So, Mr. Science,” Keisha says, turning toward Albert. “Did the world just fall off its axis or what? Did I just see what I think I did?”

We all watch Jessica run up the hill.

“Well,” he says, “there
is
an explanation. Ally is a catalyst.”

Not sure what that means, but from Albert it must be good.

All of a sudden, Keisha starts cracking up. Bending over with her hands resting on her knees. Stumbling around like she’s going to fall over. “God, Albert. I can’t believe you did that with the letters. And I can’t believe she went for it.”

Albert cracks a smile.

Keisha puts her arm around my shoulder. “Albert here just gave Shay a whole bunch of letters that are the same forward and backward. If she wasn’t spitting-nails mad, trying to hurt people, she probably would’ve figured it out.”

Then I laugh, too. “Thanks, Albert,” I say. “Shay is going to hate you more than she hates me soon.”

“No worries,” Keisha says. “That girl has plenty of hate to go around.”

And I realize that it is easier now that Shay and everyone else know why I have so much trouble. Mr. Daniels says I should concentrate on what I do well. I’m going to try to do that.

• • •

When I get back to my desk, there is a wooden
A
on it.

I pick it up and wonder where it came from.

“Ally, my grandfather would like you,” says Suki. “I carved this letter from one of his blocks. It is for you. ‘A’ for Ally. But also, I think you are amazing. And I admire you. I wanted you to know that.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thanks a lot, Suki. Now I can tell everyone I finally got an ‘A’ at school.” And we both laugh.

I hear Shay across the room, but she doesn’t sound happy.

There’s something on her desk, too.

A pile of old friendship bracelets.

I
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During break time, Albert and Keisha are talking
about her new ideas for recipes.

Jessica and Max and some other kids are laughing about something while Shay sits at her desk watching them. She seems like she’s not sure what to do, which is an odd thing to see. Finally, she stands and walks over. However, they don’t really acknowledge her. Especially Jessica. Something about it reminds me of those empty sundae dishes back when Shay and Jessica made me feel small for being me. Now it’s hard to imagine feeling that way.

Oliver is going from desk to desk. As he does, kids are holding their arms over their heads to make a big circle. Then he says something and they answer. When they do, he jumps and laughs.

Finally, he gets to Shay and I can hear what he’s saying. “Hold your arms up over your head to make a circle.”

She hesitates but does it, which surprises me.

“Now,” Oliver says, “spell ‘image,’ and then say ‘lightbulb.’”

“I-M-A-G-E lightbulb.”

Oliver jumps and laughs.

Shay drops her arms. “You’re such a freak, Oliver. Go stink somewhere else.”

He goes to Keisha and they do the same thing with the arms, but she laughs afterward.

And I feel happy for Oliver because I remember a time when he would have sat down and been sad after Shay had said something like that.

Looking at Shay, I can tell she’s looking around the room wondering where she fits in now. Wondering how all of this happened. I remember how it felt to be alone in a room full of people, so I take a deep breath and head over.

“Hey, Shay.” Now that I’m close to her, I can really see how upset she is.

“What do
you
want?”

“Um . . . I just thought I’d say hi.”

While she stares at me, all of the mean things she’s done wind through my head and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake in coming over.

“I think,” she says, “we should call you Alley Cat from now on. Go bother someone else.”

At first I’m surprised, but then I realize it wasn’t a mistake to come over, because it felt like the right thing. Shay’s the one who decided to act mean, but at least I tried. I have to admit, though, I do feel sorry for her.

A
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Keisha, Albert, and I take our time walking home.

A voice behind us calls, “Hey, brain! Wait up!”

We turn around and I hear Albert mumble, “Oh no.” I’ve never actually seen anyone turn white before, but he does. I look back at these three boys who are all running toward us. Albert is jumpy like he’s going to run, too, and I know that they must be the kids that beat on him all the time.

I wish Travis were here.

“Who are
they
?” Keisha asks.

Albert swallows hard.

“Hey, brain,” the one closest says. “Are these your
girl
friends?” he asks.

The group laughs. One in back says, “Yeah, right. Like that dweeb would have a girlfriend. He’d be lucky to get a pet bird.” They laugh harder.

Keisha steps forward. “Why don’t you just get lost?”

“Don’t think so. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.” He turns to Albert and shoves him. “Hey, brain! Did you miss me?”

“Like a dog misses a flea,” Albert mumbles, his eyes glued to the ground. I wish he’d at least look at the kid.

Keisha’s voice gets louder. “Yeah, like a little flea. Now get lost before someone slaps you!”

And before I can even start worrying for her, the boy grabs her arm and pushes her on the ground. “Slaps me? I don’t think so!”

“Hey!” Albert says. “You leave her alone.”

The boy turns to Albert. “Shut up, brain. Or you’re next.”

The second boy picks up Keisha’s bag. “What do you have here?” He turns it upside down, dumping everything out.

“Look!” the third says. “A book with sweet little cupcakes.”

“No!” Keisha yells. “Give me my book back!”

Albert is shaking. Actually shaking.

“Hey!” I say. “You leave us alone!” And when the kid turns and looks into my eyes, I’m really scared. Like I’m going to throw up.

Keisha tries to get up and the first boy pushes her back down. He moves his foot to step on her but doesn’t get the chance.

Albert—peace-loving, I-will-never-stoop-to-their-level Albert—pulls the boy away from Keisha. He turns him around and holds him by the front of his coat. The boy’s toes barely touch the ground. “You do
not
touch her again,” Albert says with a voice I didn’t think he had.

Keisha jumps up and runs over to me. She stands next to me, squeezing my arm. Hard.

“I’m tired of you beating on me all the time,” Albert says. “You have no right to treat me like that. And you don’t even fight one-on-one. You gang up on people like cowards.” Albert throws him down on the ground. Tosses him like he doesn’t weigh anything. The two other boys charge, but Albert grabs one and throws him on top of the first kid. Boy three runs.

The first boy stands up. “You want to fight, brain? I’ll fight you.” He charges Albert and hits Albert in the stomach.

I’ve never seen Albert mad before. He hits the kid one time and the kid goes down. Through his moans, he tells his friend to get up and fight—to get Albert for him. The second boy sits up, like he’s thinking about it.

Albert’s feet are far apart, and he leans forward. “Do you
really
think you want to do that?”

The boy shakes his head.

Albert takes a step toward both boys on the ground. “Don’t you ever touch my friends again. Ever. Or you’ll answer to me.”

Keisha and I gather her stuff and put it back in her bag. “C’mon,” Albert says, looking at us before turning to walk away. We follow him.

I’m surprised that Keisha is quiet for as long as she is. I feel like I’m going to cry. Thinking how Albert has come to school every day with those bruises for all this time. We always asked him what it would take for him to fight back. Turns out it was protecting us.

“Albert,” Keisha says. “That was a
ma
zing. And you can
fight
!”

“I can’t take credit for strong arms.”

“But,” I say, “it wasn’t just your arms, Albert. You were seriously
brave
back there.”

“Yup. That’s true,” Keisha says. Then she laughs. “So, Albert, what got into you, anyway?”

“My dad has always said that violence is something to avoid at all costs,” Albert tells us. “But he has also said that you never hit a girl. And so I had to weigh the two. I just . . .”

Then he stops walking and he’s wide-eyed looking at me. It gives me a chill the way he does it. “But really,” he says, “it just made everything hurt inside to watch them hurt you two, and I would have done anything in the universe to stop it.”

• • •

When we arrive at A. C. Petersen’s, Keisha is still acting out what Albert had done. He never says anything, but he seems quietly happier. And a bit taller.

After sliding into the booth, I take out my social studies book.

“Seriously? You’re going to do homework after that?” Keisha asks.

“I have a lot to do.”

“I thought Mr. Daniels said you only had to do half of the questions.”

“He did. But I want to try to do them all. I don’t want to get off easy.” I’ve figured out that if I look at the first two letters and the last two letters of a word, I can sometimes figure it out from the rest of the sentence. This trick I’ve discovered made Mr. Daniels say I’m a genius.

“What is wrong with you? Are you serious?” Keisha asks.

“Yeah, I know. First I don’t want to do work and now I want to do extra.”

“You are a mystery, that’s for sure,” she says.

“Huh,” Albert says. “That reminds me of our president Teddy Roosevelt, who went on a hunting trip and found that one of his companions tied a bear to a tree for him so it would be easy to shoot. He refused to shoot the bear and set it free. In fact, that’s why teddy bears are called Teddy. After that president and that day.”

Keisha shakes her head. “Man, you’ve got a story for everything, Albert.”

“I do not provide the stories. History does.”

“You know, Albert, you kind of talk like those guys who narrate the movies at school. From the History Channel and stuff.”

“Why, thank you, Keisha.”

Based on Keisha’s expression, I’m not sure it was a compliment, exactly.

I lean forward and look at Albert. “You know what else is a tremendous achievement?”

“What?”

“Sticking up for friends against guys that have used you as a punching bag for months. You whaled on them, didn’t you, Albert? You should get a medal or something.”

Albert sits a bit straighter. “Well, it was just one thing I did on one day.” He turns to me. “Not like you, Ally.”

Huh?

“When Mr. Daniels told us about people with dyslexia . . . I mean some of the greatest minds the human race has ever seen . . . I’ve been kind of wishing I could have it, too.”

Did he really just say that?

Keisha laughs. “Sometimes, Albert, I’ve thought you have nothing but facts stacked up in that head of yours. And then you do what you did today and say something like that. You know what
you
are?”

His eyebrows jump.

Keisha leans forward. “You are one good friend, Albert.”