Read Online Bird Lake Moon by Kevin Henkes - Free Book Online Page A

for climbing because of its massive low boughs, and to Spencer, it resembled an elaborate pirate galleon with many gnarled masts reaching up and out. “What about you?” he asked.
    â€œI would be a magnolia tree,” she said. “Like the one at home.”
    He twisted and looked over his shoulder at her in the stern, and nodded. He was remembering how Lolly used to be convinced that the magnolia tree was female, the McDermotts’ oak was male, and that they were married because their branches touched over the fence that separated the yards. The marriage of the trees, she’d said, made the two families related. This misconception of hers had, over time, become part of the Stone family lore.
    â€œYour turn,” she said.
    â€œIf you were a . . . ,” he began slowly. “If you were an animal, what would you be?”
    â€œA turtle,” she replied.
    Hearing the word turtle made him blush. He looked down at the paddle in his hands. He wished he’d said food instead of animal. Or color. Or piece of clothing. Or anything else. He was glad that she was seated behind him and couldn’t see his eyes, or his cheeks, which surely were red. Did she know something? Was she trying to ask something indirectly by saying turtle?
    Of course he thought of the turtle that had appeared on the front porch. The sign. He also thought of the small ivory turtle that was missing from the mantel at home. He wondered if his mother had taken it from its usual place. Was it tucked into her pocket this very minute? Was it in her purse? Her wallet?
    Or had his father taken it? Or someone—or something—else? He tried to banish these thoughts.
    â€œI’d be a bird,” he said, without waiting to be asked for his response. “So I could fly.”
    Neither tried to continue the game. They were silent for a long time after this. They both seemed to have retreated to private places in their minds. Sitting, as they were in the canoe, made this easier. They weren’t face-to-face. There were no probing questions.
    Spencer’s mother steered them into a little cove. A secret, sheltered inlet. The sun broke through the leaves, dappling Spencer’s arms and legs and dotting the water with coins of light.
    There seemed to be no noises at all until you really listened, and then, it was as if the world were made of sound. Quick, rushed sounds—the equivalent of scribbling on a notepad. Slow, drowsy ones. The sounds of birds. Of insects. Unseen rustlings from the treetops and from the shadows beyond the shoreline. The lake was a container of sounds, the best one being the musical sound as he pushed the paddle through the water and lifted it out.
    â€œThe water is so limpid here,” his mother said.
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œTransparent. You can see through to the bottom.”
    â€œHmm.” He peered over the edge of the canoe. The cluster of rocks below looked like a village as glimpsed from an airplane. The water lapped against the side of the canoe. Spencer gently swayed back and forth. Testing.
    â€œDid you hear that?” his mother asked.
    Spencer lifted his head and listened. Did she mean a bird? And then he heard it: a shrill, cheerful cry coming from some distance. Lolly. “Disturbing nature,” he said as a joke.
    Their idling was over. They started out toward the kayak.
    â€œWe’ll race you!” Lolly shrieked gleefully when they were within earshot.
    â€œAre you ready to head back?” Spencer’s father called. “We’re hungry.”
    â€œI’m ready,” said Spencer’s mother.
    â€œBut we’re not racing,” said Spencer.
    With the steady wind behind them, they traveled across the lake quickly. From where they were, the cottages ringing the shore looked flimsy, as if they were constructed of balsa wood or cardboard and would blow away if the wind gusted. Spencer didn’t want to race,