Boys Life

carefully. I think I flinched a little. “Actually, Mrs. Huckabee does all the hirin’. Runs this place like boot camp, she does.”
    I nodded, trying not to meet his steady gaze.
    “That parrot,” he said, and his smile widened. “That blue parrot. Cursed a blue streak. Not surprisin’, though, is it? Since he belonged to Miss Blue Glass, I mean.”
    “I guess not.” I hadn’t known any adults called her Miss Blue Glass.
    “What’s this about, Cory? Really.”
    “I want to be a writer,” I answered, though I don’t know why. “Stuff like this is interestin’ to me.”
    “A writer? Like writin’ stories and all?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Seems like that would be a hard row to hoe.” He put his elbows on the table. “Is this… like… research for a story or somethin’?”
    “Yes sir.” I saw a ray of light. “Yes sir, it sure is!”
    “You’re not writin’ a story about Miss Blue Glass, are you?”
    “I’m writin’… a story about a parrot,” I said. “That speaks German.”
    “Are you, now? Well, how about that! When I was your age, I wanted to be a detective or a soldier. I got my wish on one count.” He looked at his tattooed fingers. “I think I might’ve been better off bein’ a detective,” he said with a quiet sigh that spoke volumes about what real-life soldiering was as opposed to playing out scenes from Combat in the woods.
    “Can you remember what else that parrot said, Mr. Osborne?”
    He grunted, but his smile was still friendly. “If you’ve got to have determination to be a writer, you’re well on your way. Is knowin’ all this so important to you?”
    “Yes sir. It’s real important.”
    Mr. Osborne paused, thinking it over. Then he said, “It was all jumbled up, really. Didn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
    “I’d just like to know.”
    “Let’s see, then. Got to crank my mind back some. I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned forward a little. “When you work with Mrs. Huckabee, you hear a lot of blue language.” I looked around for her, but she was either in the kitchen or the rest room. “I remember the parrot sayin’ somethin’ about-” He closed his eyes, bringing it back. “Who knows?”
    “Can’t you remember?” I prodded.
    “No, that’s it.” His eyes opened. “‘Who knows?’ That’s what the parrot was sayin’ when it wasn’t spoutin’ off the curses.”
    “Who knows what?” I asked.
    “Search me. Just ‘Who knows?’ is all I could get out of it. That, and what I thought sounded like a name.”
    “A name? What was it?”
    “Hannaford, I think it was. At least it sounded like it was close to that.”
    Hannah Furd, I thought.
    “I could be wrong, though. I only heard the name once. But I’m not wrong about the cursin’, believe you me!”
    “Do you remember somethin’ Miss Green… uh… Miss Katharina Glass said about the parrot goin’ crazy when that song was played?” I tried to think of the name of it. “‘Beautiful Dream’?”
    “‘Dreamer,’” he corrected me. “Oh, yeah. That’s the song Miss Blue Glass taught me.”
    “Taught you?”
    “That’s right. I always wanted to play a musical instrument. I took lessons from Miss Blue Glass… oh, I guess it was four years ago when she was teachin’ full-time. She had a lot of older students, and she taught us all that song. Now that you mention it, I don’t recall that parrot screamin’ around back then like he did that night. Funny, huh?”
    “Strange.” It was my turn to correct him.
    “Yeah. Well, I’d best get back to work.” He’d seen Mrs. Huckabee emerge from the rest room, and she was dragon enough to scare a soldier. “Does that help you any?”
    “I think so,” I said. “I’m not sure yet.”
    Mr. Osborne stood up. “Hey, how about puttin’ me in that story?”
    “What story?”
    He looked at me oddly again. “The story you’re writin’ about the blue parrot.”
    “Oh, that story! Yes sir, I sure will!”
    “Say somethin’ nice about me,” he requested, and he started toward the kitchen door again. Some man in a brown uniform was on television, raising a ruckus.
    “Hey, Eugene!” Mr. Moultry hollered. “Get a load of this jackass!”
    “Mr. Osborne?” I asked, and he gave me his attention before he looked at the television set. “Do you think Miss Blue Glass would mind playin’ that song again, with the parrot in the room? And maybe you could listen to it and see what it was sayin’?”
    “I think that’d