Death & Dying
"Tell me about your tree," said Uncle as he planed the angles of the face. "What did you see among the branches?"
Solomon described the hummingbird nest and the antics of the baby birds. Uncle rounded the brow with the adze, chipped the hollows of the eyes, and told the hummingbird story.
"Did your tree smell nice?" asked Uncle as he used the hook knife to carve the nose. Solomon remembered the sweet spring smell of sap and the pungent, fall odor of crushed leaves.
"What're we gonna investigate?" Aaron said.
"You might want to investigate the art of listening," Mr. Collins said. "The rest of the class will study mealworms."
There were snickers. If Aaron heard, he didn't seem to care; he kept moving. His legs jiggled. He tapped his pencil on his desk. He hummed. His head bopped from side to side as if he was hearing music.
Weird kid, Jeremy thought.
There was no number on the next bus. Jack stepped back. He expected it to pass by, headed for the depot. But it stopped in front of him.
The doors wheezed open.
The sun shone in Jack's face. He couldn't see the driver.
"Hop on, son," a voice said.
"This is the wrong bus," Jack said. "I need the Number 26."
"This will do. Hop on, Jawbreaker."
Jawbreaker! Jack raced up the stairs. "Grandpa!"
