Ree smiled down at me. “Better,” she said. “Much better.” And then, very quickly, like it was a mistake, she brushed her hand against mine.

Ree touching me, something I never thought would happen.

Daddy singing—singing!—in the shower. Something else I never, ever thought would happen here.

The doughnut. The possible. Things to be grateful for. Maybe, just maybe, we really can get Jewel and Baby home together.

48

These Girls

Ree has always been of the opinion that dogs and animals in general were the best people she knew. Ree has always thought of humans as hard-hearted animals capable of causing more pain than joy. She has never, ever trusted humans the way she trusts dogs.

But now Ree listens to these girls—fierce little Fire; tall, serious Karina; and big-hearted Piper—tell her about what they’ve done and all they’re going to do to help an old woman they don’t really know and a little dog of uncertain pedigree.

These girls who don’t have homes themselves, these girls who have rarely been given a break in life, are determined to help Jewel and Baby find a home together.

These girls have hope. These girls believe they have the power to make a difference, even if it’s just for a woman and her dog.

Who is she, Ree thinks, to tell them otherwise?

Ree looks up at the sky and feels a V-shaped crack open in her heart, just like the V formed by the wild geese flying south overhead.

Who is she, she thinks, to say they can’t?

49

A Story to Tell

It seems like about a billion sets of eyes are looking at me sitting up here on the stage at school. I was so nervous about this that I couldn’t eat a bite of breakfast. Now my belly growls so loud, I’m sure they can all hear it.

Fire did. She pokes me in the side with her bony little elbow and grins. Karina, sitting on the other side of me, cuts Fire a look. I glance over at the other girls from Troop 423. None look exactly thrilled to be on stage.

“Next, Piper Trudeau and Firefly Girls Troop 423 are here to tell everybody about a special project they are working on,” Randall Christiansen, our student president, says. “Let’s give them our attention.”

He turns and motions for me to stand up.

I think my butt is superglued to the chair.

Someone in the audience giggles.

Karina and Fire put their hands on my back and push me up.

Randall smiles. “Knock ’em dead,” he says, handing me the microphone.