Ship of Souls

off the counter and jumps into action. “No, no—you’ve been working hard at school all day. You deserve a home-cooked meal. It’ll only take me a minute to warm this food up.”
    Mercy stays quiet for about two minutes, and then she starts to fret again. I keep bouncing her on my shoulder, and then I try walking around with her. But nothing I do seems to work, and before long she’s screaming. Mrs. Martin turns off the stove and takes over.
    “You can serve yourself, can’t you, dear?”
    “Sure,” I say, only too happy to swap a bawling baby for a plate of hot food. “Uh—would it be OK if I ate up in my room? I sort of have a headache.”
    “That makes two of us,” Mrs. Martin says with a sigh. The baby clutches Mrs. Martin’s sweater in her tiny fists and buries her brown face in the old woman’s wrinkly neck. Mercy quiets down after Mrs. Martin starts rubbing her back and humming softly in her ear. I watch them, and for just a moment I wish I were still small enough to be held like that. But Mercy’s the baby—not me.
    “Should I make a plate for you, too?” I ask.
    Mrs. Martin shakes her head. “I’ll eat later, once Mercy’s gone to sleep.”
    I stand where I am, not sure it’s really fair for me to leave Mrs. Martin alone with the baby—after all, she had to take care of Mercy all day. Mrs. Martin sees the guilt on my face and smiles. “Go on, dear. I’ll be fine. You can come down later and show me your homework—not that you’ll need my help. You’re such a bright boy. We can have a cup of cocoa together.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” I fix myself a plate and head upstairs, anxious to talk more with the bird. But when I reach my room, she’s fast asleep, so I just eat my dinner and get my homework out of the way. When I take my plate back downstairs, everything’s quiet. The can of cocoa’s on the kitchen counter, but Mrs. Martin has fallen asleep in the rocking chair with Mercy resting peacefully in her arms.
    For just a moment I feel like a ghost, an invisible intruder in some other family’s home. I clean up the kitchen as quietly as I can, and then head back upstairs to check on the bird.
    “Are you ready to retire?”
    “You’re awake!” There’s something different about the bird, but I’m not sure it would be polite to say anything. Her feathers are no longer white. They look kind of dingy, like water-stained paper.
    “I’ll need a deeper sleep soon,” she says, “but I wanted to talk to you first. I never thanked you.”
    “Thanked me? For what?”
    “For saving me, of course.”
    “From the people who held you captive?”
    “Yes. It’s a long story, and I don’t have the strength to tell it all tonight. I can, however, share some of my history.” The bird suddenly spreads her wings and flutters over to my dresser. She nods at the vacated bed as if to tell me to get in.
    I’m guessing this will be a bedtime story I’ll never forget! I quickly change into my pajamas and slip into bed. Once I’m settled, the bird flies over and nestles against me like a cat.
    “Are you glad you found me?” she asks.
    “Sure!” I exclaim. “Nothing special ever happens to me—not special in a good way.”
    “You have endured much for one so young.”
    The bird doesn’t look at me directly, but I get the feeling she’s talking about my mother. “How do you know that?” I ask.
    “I know many things about you. I can sense what is not said.”
    The only magical birds I’ve ever heard of were in books or movies. I never expected to find one in Prospect Park! And now it’s here with me.
    The bird looks up at me with her dark, sparkling eyes. “Many would have walked away—or tried to expose me for profit. But I knew you were different.”
    “Different how?”
    “You have a tender heart.”
    I stiffen for just a moment, then relax as I realize the bird isn’t calling me a wimp. She burrows against my neck, and I feel her tiny heart beating steadily.
    “You should rest now. You’ll need your strength for the task we must undertake.”
    “What task?” I ask with a yawn. I wasn’t tired a moment ago, but now I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open.
    “When it is time, all will be revealed.” The bird’s voice sounds like a soothing lullaby. She reaches out a wing and strokes my cheek with the tips of her feathers.
    I feel my eyes starting to close but manage to drowsily ask another question. “Why did you choose me?”
    “You have nothing to