Read Online The Secret Hum of a Daisy by Tracy Holczer - Free Book Online

to her chin. “Well, it’s mostly about the park and how important it is to our town. I don’t know. I haven’t edited it yet. I’m still looking for my theme. There’s a short film competition I’m entering too.”
    She looked so excited I almost wanted to touch her arm to see if it might shock me like static electricity. Then maybe I could feel something.
    â€œI want to go to film school. How about you?”
    â€œUm . . .”
    Beth and Ginger came outside giggling, and saved me from having to answer. Ginger was projecting, as though trying to be heard by teachers on the other side of the school. “Rather long this winded jester takes to fix his shrunken pride!” Stubbie blew a spit wad toward their backs, but it fell short of the open doorway. He looked around to see if he’d been caught, but Mrs. Donatello was at the other end of the room.
    Jo gathered her trash. “On cold days like this, we go to the library for the rest of lunch. It doesn’t smell like boiled mops in there. Mrs. Hall always has stuff for us to do.”
    â€œSometimes it’s even fun,” Beth said. “Like the time we got to reorganize the picture books and label them!”
    Jo and Ginger looked at her and then burst out laughing.
    â€œWhat?” Beth said. “Organization is the cornerstone of life. When I have my own advice column, every Monday will be Organization Day. What better way to start the week?”
    â€œTechnically, Sunday is the first day of the week,” Jo said.
    Beth rolled her eyes. “Do you always have to be so specific?”
    â€œUm, yeah,” Jo said. “Do you always have to point out when I’m being specific?”
    â€œMaybe next time,” I said.
    Jo and Beth glared at each other for a minute, and Beth linked arms with Ginger. “See you later, then,” she said to me, and they walked off together.
    â€œListen,” I said as Jo stood up. “This is my fourteenth new school. You don’t have to be nice to me. I can manage. I always have.”
    â€œI’m not being nice because someone told me to. I actually am nice. Plus I thought you could use a friend.”
    â€œI have friends,” I said with more gusto than I should have.
    â€œAfter fourteen schools, I should hope so.”
    I blinked a few times while she dumped her garbage in the can. “You know, I’ll never be able to look at another hot dog without thinking of you. That wouldn’t sound so weird if you knew me better.”
    If I was lucky, I wouldn’t be here long enough to figure it out one way or another.

9
    A Postcard
    from Heaven
    As soon as I got back from school, I made a dash for the shed and started collecting tools. A thin metal nail file from Mama’s makeup kit and her eyebrow tweezers. I also went through Grandpa’s doodads at the back of the shed, but none of the screwdrivers or wood files looked thin enough. I grabbed them anyway in case I had to pry the bird open a tiny bit. Then I dumped a bunch of nuts and bolts out of a jar with the word KERR on it.
    I sat on the flower-garden sofa and used the nail file to carefully poke inside the bird. It took a while, but I finally got a corner of thick paper out. Then I used the tweezers to pull the rest free.
    It was an old postcard folded into a square. I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans and then unfolded it.
    The postcard showed a section of storefronts on Main Street. Threads was the store in the center of the photo. I thought about the woman in the muumuu and cowboy hat from Mama’s funeral, who’d introduced herself as Margery. She’d told me to come talk to her, but I’d forgotten all about it. I turned the postcard over, and written in blue ink was the phrase
A Secret Meadow.
Something about the idea of a secret meadow seemed familiar, but I had no idea why.
    I unscrewed the lid of the Kerr jar and put the postcard inside. I took the