Free Edward's Eyes by Patricia MacLachlan Page B

you, Edward,” she said.
    Edward shook his head, making Jack smile.
    â€œYou’re busy,” he said to Maeve, not unkindly.
    Edward picked up his navy blue backpack with RED SOX on it. He wore a blue and white striped shirt and jeans. His light brown hair was smooth.
    He smiled at all of us.
    â€œLet’s go,” he said cheerfully.
    Maeve bit her lip as if she might cry. Edward looked at her.
    â€œYou can walk with me tomorrow,” he whispered.
    Maeve burst into tears. Jack got up and swung Maeve around in the kitchen until she laughed.
    â€œOut, out, all of you,” he said. “Maeve will be fine. We’ll put on music and dance in the kitchen. Maybe we’ll eat ice cream!”
    Jack shooed us out the door and we marched down the steps and across the yard. Behind us, in the kitchen, music started.
    Edward turned around, two steps ahead of us, and walked backward.
    â€œTina Turner,” he announced. He sang, “What’s love got to do with it?”
    â€œSome day I’ll write a book about this,” said Will.
    We were all surprised. Will didn’t talk very much. His look was very serious as he watched Edward.
    â€œI bet you will,” said Sola, putting an arm around him.
    â€œEdward’s not nervous or scared,” says Wren very softly. “I was scared my first day of school. I’m a little scared today.”
    She pauses, then looks at me.
    â€œEdward’s not scared of anything,” she said.
    â€œNo. He’s not,” I say to her. “He’s not.”
    Edward leads us the five blocks to school.
    Â 
    What’s love got to do with it?
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    When Edward is in third grade he begins to stay up later at night than I do. On my way to bed I hear whispering on the porch. A moon shines over the water.
    â€œSo when I die,” says Wren, “I’m coming back as a bird. Or maybe a dog. Nobody’s happier than Weezer.”
    It is quiet.
    â€œWhat about you?” she whispers.
    â€œA fish,” says Edward promptly. “I’ll be in the ocean. I’ll come in and go out with the tides.”
    Wren is silent. I keep listening. But talk is over.
    Then, just as I walk away, I hear Edward say, “In and out, in and out, in and out,” three times.
    Chapter 2
    It was dusk and the water was flat and shining. Albert Groom and I were watching the daily summer baseball game in the front yard. Albert’s dog, Weezer, lurked in the outfield.
    â€œWeezer thinks he’s an outfielder,” said Albert softly.
    â€œHe is,” I said. “He gets to the ball faster than Wayne.”
    â€œThat’s because Wayne is too busy picking his nose,” commented Albert.
    â€œDon’t you want to play?” Albert asked me.
    â€œI like to watch,” I said. “And these are all Edward’s friends.”
    â€œToo young for you?” asked Albert, smiling.
    â€œNo. I just like to watch,” I said. “Like you.”
    â€œWell, I would play right now if my legs would make it around the bases,” said Albert.
    â€œI watch,” I said.
    â€œWe’ll watch then,” said Albert.
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    Albert’s voice was musical, as if he might begin singing. His dark skin was almost blue black in the late light. Edward called Albert African-American. Albert called himself black. He had played baseball years ago. And his father, Trick, before him, had played in the Negro League. Every time there was a game in our front yard Albert was there on our porch, watching intently, as if it were a championship. His hand rested on his wooden cane.
    Edward’s friends were playing: Wayne, Billy Bob, Mavis, who was the best catcher, Lulu and Mary Brigid and Lukie and Morris and Ted and Brendan and Caitlin and Joe.
    Edward walked to the plate. One out. Lukieand Mary Brigid on base. Edward was the best hitter.
    â€œEdward says he can see the ball coming,” I said. “He can see the path it’s