Three Good Deeds (3 page)

She suggested, "Dunk it in the water."

The water was muddy and had geese swimming in it.

Howard heard Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers getting introduced as more and more geese gathered. Howard heard the geese-honks for "one of a kind" and "beautiful" and "interesting." Geese did not strike him as being very original thinkers.

"Your bread probably has weevils in it," Howard said to the old witch. She wanted a sincere compliment? He didn't need to compliment her at all when there was a whole pond full of gullible geese nearby. "Besides, I'm not going to be a goose long enough to get hungry."

The old witch shrugged, and Howard eased himself into the pond. He planned to
wade in only as far as his short legs would permit since he didn't know how to swim; but as soon as his goose body hit the water, his goose instincts took over. His feet began paddling and in moments he was gliding away from the shore.

He swam up to Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers and said, "Wow! You look even better in the full sun than you did back there in the shadow of the weeds."

"Thank you," she said to him between mouthfuls of watery bread.

Howard watched the water squish out from her beak and waited for the spell-loosening sensation to start.

Nothing happened.

Maybe a compliment only worked once for each ... complimentee?

Howard swam up to another goose. "You have very soft-looking feathers."

"Thank you," that one said, though she sounded a bit timid, as though distrusting why he'd come up to her to say this.

Still nothing. Maybe the compliment wasn't good enough.

To another goose, Howard said, "The sparkles in the water cast sparkles in your eyes. Very becoming."

"Thanks," said that goose, but she backed away from him warily, as though he made her nervous.

"My, you're such a good swimmer," Howard said to yet another goose. "I bet you could teach all of us a thing or two about swimming."

The goose ignored him.

"Love the shade of orange of your beak," Howard called out to another.

That one lowered it's head and hissed, a hiss Howard understood as "Keep your
distance, new youngling." Now it was Howard's turn to back up.

He backed into Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers, who stopped in her bread-gobbling to warn Howard, "That's Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher. You probably don't want to get on his bad side."

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher?

Did someone with a name like that
have
a good side?

This wasn't fair. Howard was trying to be sincere.

He returned to the shore, to see if that crust of bread was still there because maybe he was going to be stuck as a goose for a little longer than he'd hoped.

But both witch and bread were gone.

Now that the bread was gone, the geese began to disperse.

"Sunset!" Howard called to the only one—human or animal—who had been friendly to him this afternoon.

Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers was swimming side by side with Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher.

Both geese turned to face him. Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher hissed at him, so Howard didn't swim any closer.

"What do geese eat," Howard asked, "when there isn't an old witch to throw bread at you?"

Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers laughed as though she thought Howard was making a joke. "How-Word, you're so funny."

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher honked, "How-Word? I don't like this newcomer, How-Word."

"Well...," Howard said. He debated between
What makes you think I care?
and
I don't like you, either,
but he remembered Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers saying, "You probably don't want to get on his bad side." Mighty-Beak/ Bone-Crusher was significantly bigger than Howard and had a swagger to his swim. And his beak did look impressively sharp and strong.

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher laughed at
Howard's silence, but it wasn't pleasant like the laugh of Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers. "This How-Word isn't the bravest goose in the pond, is he?"

Howard took a deep breath, decided—yet again—against arguing, then admitted, "No."

Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers came to his defense. "How-Word is nice," she said. "He talked me out of the weeds when I was being shy."

Apparently Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher wasn't interested in Howard's good qualities. "You stay away from my female," he warned. "She is one of a kind and beautiful."

This time Howard couldn't stop himself. He told Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers, "You could do better. Where was
he
all the while you were afraid to show yourself?"

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher charged at Howard, flapping his wings and honking.

Howard found out that geese could swim backward—quickly.

Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers turned away from both the males and kept on swimming in the direction she'd been heading before. Howard didn't know if she was abandoning him, or trying to get Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher to follow her and leave him alone.

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher called after Howard, "Your feathers are dull; your neck is short; and the webbing between your toes is too thin."

"Oh yeah?" Howard honked from a safe distance. He guessed these were goose insults, and he wanted to get back at Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher. What would be a bad thing to have someone say about you if you were a goose? Howard said, "I
know ducks who are better looking than you!

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher came at Howard again, somewhere between swimming and flying, so he looked like he was practically walking on the surface of the water. Whatever the geese called that move, it was
fast.

Howard scrambled back up onto the shore, wondering if Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher would follow him onto land.

Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers continued to act as though she'd forgotten all about the two of them. She honked a greeting to another goose, and that got Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher's attention off Howard. "Stop talking to everybody," he complained to her. "You're with me."

"If I'm with you," she snapped, "then why are you over there chasing How-Word?"

Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher hesitated for one more glare at Howard. In a honk very like a snarl, he told Howard, "You're unfit to father eggs."

"I should hope so," Howard muttered after him.

He watched Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher catch up to Sunset-Dances-Like-Flames-on-Her-Feathers, who was swimming in circles while she waited for him.

At the last moment, just before facing around the other way, she said, louder than strictly necessary if it was meant only for Mighty-Beak/Bone-Crusher to hear, "Let's find some nice plants to eat."

Howard liked to think she was speaking to him, that she had realized maybe he hadn't been joking when he asked what geese ate.

But which plants? None of the ones around the pond looked appetizing, like
apples or berries or even carrots. He looked down at the weed he was standing nearest to and watched a small pale worm crawl across the broad leaf.

It'll probably become obvious,
he thought,
once I get hungry enough.

But he wasn't going to let himself get that hungry.

He was going to go home and—somehow or other—let his parents know what had happened.

Surely they could help him.

He hoped.

At first, Howard's plan was to walk back home, because the thought of flying was too scary. But his short goose legs made for a slow pace, and his webbed goose feet got tired very quickly.

I'll fly,
he thought,
but I just won't fly very high.

He flapped his wings and got himself up to the height from which he was used to seeing the road.

And flew smack into the trunk of a tree.

He picked himself up, more stunned than hurt, though his beak
was
sore. A squirrel chattered at him from the branch of another tree. The witch's spell hadn't given Howard the ability to understand any other animal besides geese, but he was sure the squirrel was laughing at him.

"That's easy for you to say," he honked after it. "
Your
eyes are in the front of your face where they belong." Howard tipped his head for a better look. "More or less." He shook himself to make sure nothing was broken, and muttered, "Stupid squirrel."

Walking was safer, but at the rate he was traveling, it would take him forever to get through the woods around Goose Pond and back to Dumphrey's Mill.

Once more, Howard began to fly, but it was difficult to get used to seeing things off to the sides better than he could see what
was directly in front of him. And he quickly found he was getting dizzy from swiveling his head left and right to avoid trees.

Maybe,
he thought,
it would be easier if I flew just a little higher—just above tree level.

The trouble was, once he got there, the canopy of treetops blocked his view of the path.

He was sure that—without the path to guide him—he'd get all turned around and become lost forever because of his unusual perspective, for certainly the world looked different at tree level than at human boy level. So Howard kept alternating: flying up just high enough to avoid the trees so that his belly practically skimmed the highest branches, then dipping down to make sure he was still following the path.

Then, finally, he could see where the trees thinned and Dumphrey's Mill started.

Howard flew out from among the trees near the mill itself and almost collided with his friend Alina and her father, who were just coming out of the mill.

"Look out!" Alina called to her father, who was adjusting the sack of grain he carried on his shoulder.

Her father ducked, despite the fact that Howard had already swerved to avoid him and landed in a flurry of feathers and street dust.

"
Honk!
" Howard said. Did it sound a little like
help
? Howard was sure it did. But Alina's father only said, "Wow! Look at that fat goose!"

Fat?
Howard thought. Still, he refused to let himself get distracted by personal insults.

"
Honk!
" he repeated—much more distinctly, he was positive.

"And stupid, too," Alina's father said.

And he'd always been so friendly to Howard before.

"
Honk!
" Howard said, but peevishly thinking,
Who's being stupid?

"Here," Alina's father said, shifting the bag of milled grain to Alina's shoulder, "you hold this, and I'll grab him." He was speaking in a soft voice as though he thought Howard was a goose who could understand human speech but was hard of hearing. "We'll have him in your mother's cooking pot before he knows what hit him."

Cooking pot?

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and Howard leaped into the air just as Alina's father lunged.

"
HOOONK!
" Howard called down to him, a nasty word in goose or human.

"Maybe he'll land again," Alina told her father. "We haven't had goose in ages."

What kind of friend was she? He'd always laughed at all her jokes and had even once given her a four-leaf clover he'd found. Too bad Roscoe was confined to the house. He
had
to have more sense than these two.

Alina's father swiped his hat in the air, an attempt to net Howard that came no closer than to stir the air near him. Still, Howard flew a little higher.
Who needs you?
he thought.
MY father is smart enough to recognize the difference between a goose for cooking and a goose who is—in fact—a boy.

Howard began flying toward his house.

Something thumped against his tail.

Howard squawked. Wheeling around, he saw that Alina's father had picked up a handful of stones and even now was flinging a second one at Howard.

"
HOOONK!
" Howard called again, though that stone missed completely.

Howard began flying a little higher, a little faster.

But other people were calling to one another, pointing him out, laughing, talking about parsley and cherry sauce and turnip stuffing, all the while flinging more stones. One hit Howard on his already-sore beak.

Howard could see his house, but he didn't dare land. These people would jump on him and have him plucked and basted before he could even
try
to communicate.

And what if his own parents, not recognizing him, joined in the chase?

That was just too scary a thought.

Howard angled upward and flew high into the sky, until his friends and neighbors who wanted to bake, stew, or fricassee him were far below, looking as small as he felt. He even forgot to worry about getting lost.

"It's not fair!" Howard honked, as though the old witch could hear him. "Trying to show myself to my mother so she doesn't worry—surely that qualifies as a good deed."

But he felt none of the bubbling sensation to indicate the spell was loosening it's hold on him.

"It
isn't
fair," he repeated.

That was the point at which he looked down and thought,
I'm flying. I'm up higher in the sky than any other person has ever been.

He began to wobble.

Which made him nervous, so that he concentrated on his flying, on what he was doing.

Which, in turn, made him remember that he had no idea what he was doing.

Which made him begin to drop.

Howard saw the faraway ground begin to come closer.
That
didn't help the wobbles one bit. Howard tried to remember if both wings were supposed to flap together or
one at a time. He tried to remember what exact position they should be in.

Howard closed his eyes and felt the onrush of air ruffle his feathers.
I'm a goose,
he reminded himself, then corrected that to
I'm in a goose body.

The goose body took over. His wings began to flap properly; the air stopped whistling by his beak and instead supported him.

Howard peeked his eyes open.

He wobbled again, but he didn't let himself think about it.
Enjoy,
he tried to convince himself.
Enjoy.