Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 162369 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 812(@200wpm)___ 649(@250wpm)___ 541(@300wpm)
To make wishes…
I should’ve known better.
“Alex?” Penny slips her small hand into my palm. “Don’t look sad.”
“I’m not.”
“Can I tell you something?”
“Go for it.”
“You’ll be sad until it’s done teaching you. Then it will go away.”
I blink at her, wondering where she gets this stuff from. Mrs. Rose shouldn’t let her watch so much TV. “You want to see the elephant or stand here and psychoanalyze me?”
Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “Both?”
“No.”
Still holding on to my hand, she sweeps her attention to the elephant, which is seriously the elephant in the room. It’s massive and looming and it was a bitch to move in here. Penny’s lips part slightly in awe. “It’s so beautiful,” she whispers. “I knew it would be.”
It’s been a long time since anyone had faith in me. It feels good, even coming from a six-year-old. “You like it? You inspired it.”
Nodding, she pulls her hand from mine and slowly approaches the seven-foot sculpture as if she’s afraid she might spook it. “Wow. It's like real-life size.”
“Close to it.”
Tiptoeing around the elephant, she lightly rubs her hands over its body, reveling in all the details. “It feels like real skin,” she exclaims.
“When have you ever touched an elephant?” I tease.
Flashing a lopsided grin at me, she walks under the statue, around to the other side. “I’m touching one right now.”
“Smart-ass,” I reply, laughing.
“What are you going to do with it?” she asks, standing next to its front leg and idly stroking its chest.
Shrugging, I step closer. “Not sure yet. I can try to sell it. If not, I guess it’ll just stay here and take up space.”
“Maybe a zoo will buy it,” she suggests.
“Why would a zoo buy it when they have real elephants?”
“For the gift shop. Or to stand where people go inside and buy tickets. With a sign on it.”
Not a bad idea.
Quietly, Penny browses the room like she’s in a museum, pausing to study each of the six other sculptures that have been here since before the accident. They were meant to be displayed at an exhibit, but that went down the drain. Ever since, they’ve been trapped in this hellish limbo with me.
Penny calls out the name of each statue as she passes it, tapping them lightly. Stork. Turtle. Lighthouse. Dolphin.
“It’s a heron, actually,” I correct, nodding toward the long-legged bird.
She turns and stares at it doubtfully, analyzing its long forceps beak, then its silver fork legs. “I don’t think I know what that is.”
“It’s like a stork. But different.”
“Like a flamingo?”
“Sorta. But not pink.”
“It’s weird that the same things have different names. Like couch and sofa. Why? Why are words confusing?” Her big green eyes search my face like she expects me to have half a clue about life. Clearly she hasn’t picked up on my inadequacies yet.
“I dunno, kiddo. I don’t make up the words.”
“Who does?”
“Someone with a lot of time on their hands.”
“Well, I think it’s silly and complicated.”
I stifle a laugh. “You sure you’re six?”
“For now.” Reaching up and rising up on her tippy-toes, she runs her hand over the elephant’s white plastic tusk. “Are you going to make another one?”
“Another elephant?”
“No. Like maybe a bear or a castle would be nice.”
Thinking about starting a new project rustles up a pile of endless, overwhelming thoughts. If I hit that creative wall again, it’ll do my head in. Kelley’s get-fox-to-stop-drinking-and-hallucinating plan will go up in flames. “Maybe…I’m not sure.”
Penny’s jaw drops. “But isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Keep making new ones? Then more new ones. Then more and more and more.”
My breath is a misty cloud in the air between us, reminding me it’s December, and this kid should be home, not hanging out in the cold with me.
“What makes you think that?” I ask, leading her back to the door.
“It’s just…I don’t know.” Pausing, she turns to give the sculpture a pensive stare. “I just have this feeling that it’s what you’re supposed to be doing.”
“Is that right?” I say, locking the door behind us. “And what are you supposed to be doing?”
“I think…” She inhales a deep breath of frigid air. “I think I’m supposed to put things back together.”
“What things?”
She puts her palms up and shrugs dramatically. “Important things, I guess. I’m not sure yet.”
“That sounds like a pretty big job for a six-year-old.”
She nods solemnly while pulling fuzzy mittens that match her hat onto her hands. “It is, but I have time.”
When we step out of the barn, Cherry greets us in the driveway, trotting straight to Penny, tail wagging.
Once again, Penny’s parents are nowhere in sight.
“I’m going to walk you back to your house now,” I say, staring down the road.
“Can’t I stay here a little longer? I promise I won’t bother you. I can sit with Cherry on the porch.”
“You’ll freeze your tail off. Don’t you want to go home?”