****
I finished it. And it was perfect.
It was Saturday morning, and I’d spent all night awake trying to finish it. My mom had caught me once, telling me that I shouldn’t be awake so late and to go to sleep, but I was too excited to sleep. I kept stringing the bits together under my bed sheets with a flashlight in my mouth. And slowly, as each piece slid in perfectly on the string, I knew it was worth it.
The crow lived, my dad told me. After I’d fallen asleep earlier in the evening, my mom and dad had woken me up with smiles on their faces.
“He’s alive— your crow,” my dad said. “But I don’t think he’ll ever fly again.”
“But he’s alive?” I asked excitedly, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
My dad’s kind eyes smiled down at me. “He’ll live.”
“Can I see him?”
“He’s asleep right now,” my dad said, “but in the morning, you can see him. He’s had a long day. It’ll be best to let him rest.”
I listened to my dad. He knew best. I, on the other hand, couldn’t rest. I was too excited. I saved him— the crow. It brought new life and happiness to me. If I could save the crow, maybe I could save Ancel too. Maybe I could help him, somehow.
So I’d stayed up all night making a necklace for him. But it wasn’t just a necklace— it was a piece of me. The necklace was made of a very thin strip of leather my father had given me. It was soft to the touch but strong. I’d taken four of my most prized possessions— varnished and painted animal teeth— and had my dad put tiny holes in them so I could string them onto the necklace. One tooth was light blue, two were pale yellow, and one I’d painted bright green. And, right in the center of the necklace, was a feather. It was one of the favorite things I’d ever found. A hawk feather from when my mom and dad took me on a trip to the mountains two years prior, and we’d gone hiking through the wilderness and camped out with the animals in the forest.
When I was finished, I tied the leather tightly at the ends and looked at my masterpiece. It was beautiful, and perfect, so it deserved to be with Ancel.
That morning, I leapt out of bed at the crack of dawn, pocketed the necklace, and went straight out into the field. It was still early in the morning, but I was too excited, and I couldn’t wait. The sun was just coming up. It was touching the tips of the grass, reflecting off of the early morning dew and making them glow and flicker with light. It was still chilly out, but even though I wasn’t wearing a jacket, I wasn’t cold. My heart was racing, and the necklace was burning a hole in my pocket. My fingers wouldn’t stop twitching, and I could barely stand still.
I stood in the middle of that field and stared at the paint chips on the gate to his yard, and at the rusted, golden hinges on the gate door. I didn’t pay any attention to the field mice skittering around my feet, the birds calling to me from the trees, or the sun dancing more and more over my face as the minutes ticked by.
And then, just when I thought he might break my heart by staying in his house all day, the gate swung open.
Ancel walked out with the same air around him as always— dark, dangerous, and so beautiful. His head was down, his hands were stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans, and his hair hung loosely over his face.
Suddenly, I felt nervous. I was nothing like Ancel. I wasn’t made of glaciers and the midnight sky; I was made of the grass in the field, the warm breeze that flowed through it, and the dirt under the heels of my shoes. He was so much more than I could ever hope to be, and while I knew that he’d never look at me the way I looked at him, I had to at least give him a tiny piece of myself.
Before I could convince myself otherwise, I ran. I leapt over the gopher holes in the dirt, and over the deserted logs that piled on top of one another. I ran as fast as my short legs could carry me, and I didn’t stop until I was standing right in front of him, and he was looking down at me.
I grabbed his hand at the same time I pulled the necklace out of my pocket. Unceremoniously, I shoved the necklace into the palm of his hand and closed his fingers around it.
“I made this for you,” I said.
Ancel slowly opened his fingers to look down at the necklace I’d placed in his hand. He didn’t say anything, so I continued. “And you can ask me why, if you want, but I already know you won’t. Or you can ask me who I am, but I know you won’t do that either. But please, just take it. I need you to take it. I need you to keep it.”
He reached out and carefully touched the hawk feather with the tips of his fingers. I held my breath the entire time. I watched his careful eyes study the feather, the painted teeth, the thin, leather strip. I watched his dark eyebrows furrow in confusion, and his long, sooty eyelashes cast gentle shadows just under his eyes.
After what felt like years had passed, slowly, he looked up from the necklace and focused on me, unblinking.
“Okay.”
That one simple word stopped my heart. And then started it again.
He would keep it. The necklace that was comprised of all my favorite possessions; the necklace that was a tiny piece of me.
Ancel would keep it.
And with that, I turned and ran back to my house without saying a word. When I opened the back door and closed it hard behind me, I pressed my back to the frame and slid down.
He would keep it. Maybe not forever, but at least for a little while, a part of me would be with him.
I stood up and ran to the kitchen window. As I looked out into the empty field, I wondered if this would change things between us. Maybe we’d even become friends, one day. Maybe tomorrow we’d talk, and eventually he’d let me play with Daisy. Maybe one day he’d let me hold his hand.
I promised myself that tomorrow after school instead of sitting under the tree and watching Ancel cross the field silently, I’d run up to him, as I had that day, and tell him my name.
Yes. Tomorrow, Ancel would know my name.