Great Is Our Treehouse

“Good morning, Grey.” Mom was reading a book in bed, and she closed it and put it down. I climbed up beside her. 

“Were you playing outside, dear?” I nodded. She stared for a moment, glancing down at my feet. “Without your shoes?”

“I forgot.”

“What a wandering mind you have, silly.” 

She sighed, then sat up and held both my hands, stroking them with her thumbs.

“I have exciting news. We are going to build more rooms in the sky.”

“More rooms? Why?”

“For more children! We’ll make them nice and cozy, and we’ll help a lot of people.”

“That’s the most important thing.”

“That’s right.” She smiled at me. “But first, let’s go make breakfast.

☀

Later that morning, when all the kids were playing, Millie came to find me. 

“Grey, I have to show you something,” she said. She was making the face she always made whenever we took extra cookies from the kitchen, or when I told a joke at reading time and no one else could hear it.

“What is it?” She led me outside and down the East Branch, the biggest and most coiled limb, always covered in dark green oak leaves like a carpet. The East Branch led to all the other trees beyond the House. There were the swinging vines for playing, although Mom had talked about adding some seats to them. There was the fruit garden everyone enjoys eating from, and also Christmas land where all the trees are evergreens. 

“Down here.” At the end of the branch Millie flipped around and started to climb down the next tree trunk.

“Wait, Millie, where are we going?”

“I followed Ms Petunia down here yesterday.”

“My mom went down here?”

“Yeah! She was taking some notes, I didn’t see what they were. But it was amazing!”

“Really? How far is it?”
“All the way to the ground!”

“You went to the ground?” I only ever touched the ground when something crazy had happened, like the time a squirrel had found us in the Treehouse. 

They were starving, so I went to find food for them, but after a few minutes in the House the squirrel ran away. Mom told me later it must have been the meat we cook for ourselves in the House. To a squirrel, the smell of cooked animal meat never  really goes away. I had found some dry oatmeal for them, but they were gone.

I took the box under my arm and tried to chase them, but by the time I reached the ground they were out of sight. That’s when I noticed how soft the ground felt. And wide. It just went on and on, forever. There was no need to balance, or hang on. It was strange. I think I liked it, though I didn’t stay for long. 

We were only a few feet from the bottom of the tree when Millie let go and dropped the rest of the way. Was she not afraid? I let my feet dangle, but decided to step back onto the ladder and climb all the way down.

“Follow me,” Millie said. We started to walk along the ground. Looking up, we could see the bottom of the House. It looked nothing like the inside. It was dark gray and blocked all the sunlight. When we walked under the House we were in complete shadow. Millie led me back into open space, and the forest went on and on. After some time, I could see a big green wall behind the trees. We kept going.

Millie stopped at the green wall, which I realized was not a wall but a curtain of thin, curly vines. It rose as high as we could see. She pulled a few vines to the side, opening the curtain for us to go through. 

“Here it is.” 

The entire world was quiet on the other side, except for one distinct sound. Something was singing.

“Where is that coming from?”

“Look!”

They looked tiny from below, it was a city of birds. Red, yellow, blue, brown, black and gray. They hopped along branches, or sat in clusters, or flew from one perch to another. Some of them were small and round. Others were tall with long legs and long beaks. Each chirped their own tune. 

“Is that a woodpecker?” One bird was making a sound, like rat, tat, tat, a little behind the others. I had heard about those before. 

“I don’t know,” said Millie, “but it sounds cool.”

We both stood there, amazed. Two blue birds in a small nest pruned each other’s feathers with their beaks. Some sitting on a branch were chirping to each other. A small yellow one picked up a seed in its pointy beak. They flew up to a high branch and gave the seed to an even smaller round bird with fluffy gray and white feathers springing out from its body. Every creature up there seemed aware of all the others, as if they were all one creature, just in different parts. I wanted to climb the trees, just to be closer to them, but there weren’t any ladders. I wondered if Millie was thinking the same thing. 

For the next few days, we kept sneaking back to see the birds.  We wondered why Mom had been down here. Maybe it was a surprise, or something important, we decided, so we didn’t tell any others.

☀

Silas was sick today. The rest of us were in the kitchen. Talia and Grigsby, the twins, took a large blanket out of the dryer and held it up to both of their faces to feel the warmth before folding it up. Layanne and Pip were just outside, digging through the critter basket for the best stuffed animals. Kirin was laying out crackers on a plate with Millie, while Whitley straightened a spoon on the side. Lex stepped away from the stove, where they were stirring the steamy pot of soup.

“Why don’t you see if she needs help?” Mom asked. I went behind Kirin and Millie and stepped up on the stool with Lex.

“Can I help?”

“Sure, take this.” They handed me the wooden spoon and stepped back from the steam, wiping their forehead with their sleeve.

“Smells good,” I said.

“Well, I added cinnamon.”

“To veggie soup?”

“Yep. Just try it.”

I picked up a spoonful and waited for the steam to go away, then tasted it. I turned around to Lex with wide eyes. 

They smiled. “I told you it was good!”

“It’s really good! But it needs one more thing --”

The Golden Rock, which Mom got out for special occasions, was sitting on the counter. Someone must have taken it to look at. With the dripping spoon I tapped the rock and then stirred the soup again. 

“There. Now he’ll definitely like it.”

We both laughed. Just then, Mom came in and gently laid a hand on each of our backs. She peered over us into the pot.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, Ms Petunia” said Lex.

We filled a thermos and twisted the lid as tight as we could. Lex put it on the tray with the crackers and spoon. Kirin picked it up and we all went out the door. Outside, the others were ready with a basket of blankets and stuffed animals. Mom was already in the front holding a big water bottle.

“Here we go,” she called, and we all followed her. Silas’ room was the highest up. We looked like a line of ants, until we started down the North branch, which was wide enough for two or three people. You could see your feet through the leaves. Millie turned to me.

“Don’t you think this walk feels holy, whenever we all go together?” The sun was directly on us, making orange streaks on her face. It was the odd time of day when Silas’ room looked dark already but the ground was still bright. I was quiet for a moment. I never thought about what holy feels like, unless Mom told us something was, but I know Millie thought about it. That was neat about her. 

“I don’t know. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

We all piled onto the pulley landing with Mom in the corner. She tucked the water bottle under her arm and began pulling the thick rope. We patiently scooted higher and higher, until we were finally on the top branch.

“Who would like to knock?” 

Layanne raised her hand first and was chosen. She went first, followed by the tray and the basket, and everyone else. We got silent so he couldn’t hear us, only glancing at each other and grinning. Layanne gave three knocks with her fist. 

We heard Silas’ voice. “Come in,” he said.

Layanne looked back to my mom for approval, and when Mom nodded she opened the door. Silas’ face broke into a smile the moment he saw us come in.

We put the things we had brought on the side of his bed. He looked down at them and back at us, still grinning. Then we all stepped back into a line. His eyes grew wide. Some impatient kids looked back at Mom to see if we were starting.

Mom whispered “three, two, one”.

We began, “Lean on me, when you’re not strong.” You could see the warmth radiate through his body. He loved it. By the end of the song we were all grinning too. I looked back at Mom. Her hands were folded and she was standing still, but the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smirk.

☀

I woke up early worried about where my shoes were. I didn’t know why. They were just outside the kitchen. I saw Lex awake, playing with some cards. They looked up and saw me. 

“Your mom went outside. I don’t know what for.”

“I don’t know either.” I held up the shoes in my hand. “I guess I’ll go see.”

“Alright.” They yawned. “Good morning, by the way.”

“You too, Lex.”

They smiled, then drifted their eyes sleepily back to their game.

I stepped out the sliding panel onto the porch. I didn’t see her. Not around the corner by the rocking chair and the stained glass window. Not around the other side by the potted roses. She could have gone into the other room across the bridge, but I had a feeling she was down the East Branch. I don’t know why. I checked to make sure my shoes were double knotted. Then I started walking, just to see.

Two  steps onto the branch, I heard from far away a giant crack. It was like thunder, but there wasn’t any storm. I could tell what direction it came from, so I followed that, hands on the branch above as I looked around for anything unordinary. The fruit garden looked completely still, not counting some peaches that were so ripe they looked like they were about to fall. I took another branch and kept going. Past Christmas Land. Just then, I heard another loud crack. This one was even louder. Where was it coming from?

Up ahead, I could see my branch getting narrow and waning to a pointy end. Nothing but green leaves ahead. It couldn’t be a dead end! I kept walking, carefully. The branch above my head was coming to an end as well. I let go. 

Crack! Again. The tree shook. This time, even after it died down, there was a vibration that kept going. It sounded like our washing machine, but angry, somehow.

I made it to the edge, where I lay down and grabbed onto the branch beneath me for balance. The leaves in front of me were close enough that I could touch them. It was a curtain of curly vines. Suddenly I realized where I was. This was the bird town! I had found it from above! All the colored birds that lived so high up, they were probably right behind the vines.

As I reached out my hand, the droning noise was louder than ever. Why would the bird town sound like this? Something about it made me stop. I remembered where I was, lying on the edge of this branch, and checked the knots in my shoelaces. I checked that my watch was on tight as well. I thought about turning around and not looking behind the vines at all, but I did not know why. I had to discover what the noises were. Finally, I reached out again and pushed the vines aside, just in time to witness --

A giant thud dud dud dud! It was the final blow. Branches plummeted to the ground and toppled into a big pile. The giant central tree was destroyed. The sound of it falling still rang in the air. I saw birds jump off of their branches. Now they were spiraling in the air. A couple landed on another tree branch, but only for a moment -- crack! When that branch began to fall as well, they jumped back to the air. Branches were breaking and falling all over. I inched closer to try and see what was causing it.

There was a ladder just behind one of the trees. It wasn’t a normal ladder that leads up a tree to a house. This one stood on its own. On the top step there was a person. They were holding a large machine in their hands that buzzed, with a large metal piece jutting out from one side. They reached up and the machine screeched. The person held it in place until it had chopped the branch completely off the tree. Looking closer, I saw that there were lots of ladders, each with a person and a machine and a shower of falling branches. They screeched in every direction.

Then I saw that the loudest of the machines was on the ground, right beside the bare, branchless trunk. I watched with horror as the metal slowly made its way into the trunk’s base and pushed all the way through. The entire tree fell on top of the rubble with a giant thud. I dropped the vines I was holding the moment it fell. Then I got up and ran back down my branch, back toward the Treehouse, with tears in my eyes.

I had seen who was holding that last machine. So – that was where Mom went.

☀

“Millie, the bird town, it’s gone!”

“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“It’s gone! The trees are falling down and the birds are racing and they have nowhere to go and it’s all because of Mom!”

“What? Ms Petunia? What did she do? – Grey, what are you talking about?”

I explained to her everything I saw. My mom and an entire team of people with their big machines, tearing down the entire bird town.

“When you followed her that first time I wonder if she knew she was going to destroy it. I wonder if she was just making a plan for how she would tear it all down.”

“Don’t say that, Grey. She wouldn’t do anything like that. She must have had a reason.”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“That’s the scariest part.” Millie looked at me one more time. “Did you see it, with everything torn down?”
“Yeah. I did.”

“It must have been horrible. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I just hope you’re right, and it happened for a reason.”

She nodded. We had nothing else to say.

☀

It was Whitley’s time to leave the Treehouse. None of us knew what to expect, but we gathered after dinner in the playspace of the main room. Mom and Whitley were talking in the kitchen. I went and found a bean bag seat next to Silas, who was deep in his bean bag holding a wet cloth under his nose. I could see the steam rising off of it.

Millie was standing by the wall across from me, quietly practicing some lines Mom had written down for her.

Beside her, Layanne had her back turned to us and her arms crossed. Millie finished her lines one more time and then looked up, as Layanne’s shoulders were beginning to twitch.

“Are you alright?” Millie asked. I would never ask that to the older kids, but Layanne turned around and dropped her arms.

“I’m fine. I’m just going to miss her!”

All of a sudden Millie was patting her shoulder and she was rubbing her eye. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Millie said. “We’ll always be there for her. Ms Petunia will make sure of it.”

Layanne nodded. Just then Mom and Whitley came in. We went quiet. Whitley was never the center of attention. She seemed unsure what to do with it.

“As you all know, Whitley is now old enough to join the adult world. She already has such wonderful plans.”

Mom put her arm around Whitley, waiting for her to speak. “I want to be a chef,” she said with a small smile.

“And she will be a great chef for lots of people. Now, before she goes, each of us has a job to do.” Mom reached into her skirt pocket and revealed slips of paper and pencils. She went around and handed us all one of each.

“I have a question,” I said as she got around to me. “Where does paper come from?”

Mom looked at me as if I were showing her a frog peeing in my hand. “Not the time, Grey,” she sighed.

She finished passing out materials and stood at the front of the room again.

“Your job is to give Whitley something to take with her.”

Then she gave us time to think. I ended up drawing pictures of birds I saw. I wrote at the bottom, “I hope the world amazes you.” At that point some of the others were giving their slips to Whitley, so I stood up and did the same. 

At the same time Mom rushed over to Silas. “Keep the cloth there,” she said. Silas had let it fall while he was writing, but he immediately did as he was told. 

“This is how you get better. Understand?” He nodded. 

I took back my seat and waited. 

When everyone was finished writing, Mom motioned for Millie to join her and Whitley up front.

Millie looked at us all. I wondered if she thought this moment was Holy. Or maybe she just wanted to do a good job for Mom. She held up her lines and read.

“Let all good things come to Whitley. Let her make a difference in the world. Let her always remember her home.”

☀

I knocked on her door before bed. 

“Mom?”

The bed creaked. I heard footsteps leading to the door, and when it opened her face was as warm as usual. I could tell she wasn’t expecting to find me upset, from the way her smile dropped when she saw me.

“Mom, what were you doing today with the trees?”

She tilted her head, keeping the same expression. 

“I was working this morning, dear.”

“I saw you. I saw you with the trees and they were falling and the birds had nowhere to live and they were scared. Mom, why did you do it?”

Mom sighed. “I’ll explain to you how this works.” She opened her door wider and let me come in and sit on the bed.

“Do you know what all of these rooms are made out of?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re all wooden.”

“I knew that.”

“Yes, well, wood comes from trees. Do you remember how I told you we were building new rooms, so we could help more people?”

“I remember.”
“Well, the wood for those rooms has to come from somewhere. This morning I was working to harvest it so my building crew can use it.”

“But there were birds in that place. They needed those trees.”
Mom’s eyes rolled back as if she were considering how to respond. “I know. It is hard to say goodbye to the nice birds.”

“Where will they go now?” I asked, imagining where in all the forest they could find such large, perfect trees for perches and nests. Mom’s face flushed red.

“Dear, they had to go. When a community is so reliant on a material that we are using, we tend to expel as much of it as possible. It’s the right thing to do.”

“They’re gone?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
“Are they dead?”

“We don’t want any of them to suffer.”

Suddenly my voice went away. I felt the back of my throat tighten, that I was about to cry. “But, Mom.”

“I know, dear. They were awfully pretty creatures, weren’t they?”

I stood up. I couldn’t bear to think about it any longer. With what felt like a stone in my throat, I left without trying to say another word.

☀

I didn’t leave my bedspace the rest of that night. I sat leaning against the wall with my arms hugging my knees. Scary images played over and over in my head, of birds flying from tree to tree, and branches falling as soon as they are landed on, then the birds falling too. I imagined the little bodies on the ground, completely helpless as branches plummeted all around them.

It isn’t right, I decided after thinking for a long while. It can’t be. This can’t be the way to build new rooms and to help people. If any of the kids knew how many creatures it cost to build these rooms, they would never move in.

The way Mom described it was as if she had done it before. Had she? Were other rooms in this house built with animals’ homes? Was she never going to tell us?

☀

I fell asleep right there on the floor, with this question burning in my mind. I was still thinking about it when I woke up. The sun seeped through the window in small splotches, meaning it was still beneath us on the horizon. I looked around at my walls. They were wooden planks, standing up one beside another. I needed to know where these planks came from. I stood up and examined the plank beside my bed. Then I moved to the one beside it. I was looking for any sign of the wood belonging to life before us. I went all the way around my bedspace. There were no holes in planks, which animals could have crawled in and out of, and nothing like pine needles or twigs in the cracks, which could have belonged to nests. If my space ever housed anything other than people, all evidence of it was long gone.

I still couldn’t be sure. I sat in the middle of the space and kept looking at the walls. Maybe I was blind to it.

Knock, knock.

After a heavy sigh, I went to open my door. It was Mom again. She was wearing her jeans and a striped button up shirt -- her work clothes. There was something paper under her arm.

“Good morning, dear. I know you were upset last night. I just remembered that I had this, and maybe it would make you feel better.”

It was a photograph. She handed it to me. It showed the big trees standing up tall and colorful birds sitting all along the branches.

“One of our workers brought a camera. He took this picture right before we got started yesterday. Isn’t it nice?”
“Yeah--”
“--and you can have it now, to look at forever. It won’t go anywhere. Anyway, it’s much easier to look at this than to walk all the way out to where those birds were.”
“Thanks, Mom, but…”

“Can you see it? I’ll turn on a light.”

“It’s not that. It’s not really that I wanted to look at them. I want them to still be there, in those trees.”

She scrunched her eyebrows. “Grey, we needed those trees.”
“I mean, I -- I think the birds needed them too. I think you should not have cut them down.”

Now her tone dropped. She sounded serious. “Do you think the trees should have stayed up, and the children we’ll house with them have no place to live?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s another way to do it.”

“The Treehouse has been up for a long time, Grey. And I would never sacrifice those poor children for little birds to live in their place. When you’re an adult, you have to make those choices.”

Mom was never angry. This was the first time I could remember her being almost stern. But I couldn’t give up. I was sure that something about this was terribly wrong.

“Are more things going to die today?”

“Are…? I’m going to a new site today, and if there are things living there, I’ll do what must be done. Now, keep that photograph.” She looked at her brown leather watch, then off in the distance. It must be time for her to go to work.

“Please don’t go.”

Mom stopped, and softly tilted her head like she did last night. But her words were quick. “Dear, if it bothers you so much, don’t follow me today.” And she left.

“Please!”

It was no use. Why didn’t she listen to me? Why did she seem upset at me? I felt the pit in the back of my throat again. Then I went to put my shoes on. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I double-knotted them both.

☀

I paced back and forth beside my bed until the sight of the walls was beginning to make me feel sick. I needed to go outside.

In the main room, Lex and Kirin were playing cards. Millie was standing between them on a stool, reaching up into the bookcase. 

“Did you finish your last book already, Millie?” Kirin asked.

“Ms Petunia likes when we read,” Millie answered over her shoulder.

“I know, but you don’t have to read every single book on the shelf.”

“It couldn’t hurt!”

“What’s this one called?”

“Charlotte’s Web.”
“Never heard of it.”

“Me neither. It was hidden in the back.”

“And you pulled it out?”

“Let her do what she wants,” Lex said and placed down a card. 

Kirin noticed me in the doorway. “Hey Grey,” he said.

“Grey?” Millie turned around. She took a big step over the game of cards, then ran to me.

“Let’s go outside,” I said. She put the book down on the kitchen counter and we both slipped out to the front porch.

“Millie.” When I looked at her face I thought I was going to cry all over again.

“What? Did you find out anything?”

I wanted to tell her everything – that I had found out the reason all this was happening and that it was not good at all, and that Mom had not even wanted to talk about it with me – but I couldn’t find the words to even start. 

“Tell me, Grey. What did you find out?”

“Mom is using the trees to build new rooms for the Treehouse.”

“Why would she do that?” Millie was confused.

“For more kids to come in.”

We stared at each other as she processed what I had said. 

“Oh. So, Ms Petunia does have a reason after all.”

“She does, and it’s terrible.”

“That she’s doing it for kids?”

“Not that. Those birds, they don’t have anywhere to go without their trees. But what’s worse – I think they’re dying. I think lots of animals are going to die, for just a few more of us.”

“Oh. That’s really scary. Do you really think animals are dying?”

With her eyebrows scrunched together and her face in a quiet frown, she looked like the naive racoons that sometimes made it to our porch. 

I kept my eyes down and said “Yes, I do. But maybe we can save them somehow.”

Millie nodded. “I mean, maybe Ms Petunia just can’t think of any other way to build rooms.”

“Yeah, so we just need another idea.”

“In the book I was reading, they were building things out of something from the ground. It was called clay, and I don’t think anything lives in it.”

“Clay? – Millie, you’re a genius!”

“The new rooms could be built out of clay! And Ms Petunia can leave all the trees!”

“Yes! Let’s find her and tell her!”

“This morning she went down past the swinging vines, but I couldn’t see any farther. Want to go look?”

“Yes, please. Let’s go!”

We ran down the East Branch and took the branch on the left that led to the vines. We stopped at the edge of the branch. The vines went up to the treetops, but we only noticed how big they were once it was just the two of us standing there.

“I wish Pip were here,” Millie said. “She’s good at this.”

“Let’s at least go at the same time,” I said, reaching for the first vine. Millie took grip just beneath my hands.

“Okay. Ready?”

We jumped off the branch and held on tight. Millie and I slammed bodies the moment we dropped into the air. We didn’t care. We had to move fast. We felt the tug on the vine and started to rise back up. Normally we would swing with the others for fun, just to see how fast we could get from one side to the other. Now Millie and I each let go with one hand and grabbed on to the next vine.

“Got it!”

“Me too!”

We latched on the new vine with our knees, and swung again. Three more vines to go. I really hoped Mom hadn’t gone far. We finished that swing and took hold of the next one. One more to go. I was slipping a little bit, and Millie’s chin was pressed against her knuckles so she wouldn’t slip herself. We made it to the branch.

“I’ve never done it that fast,” Millie said as we caught our breath.

“Me neither.”

After only a moment, though, we kept walking. Neither of us had ever seen what was back here. The branches were bare and covered in stubby knobs. I imagined what we would say to Mom. She had to love our idea, it was the only way things would change.

Millie and I pulled ourselves up onto another mossy branch. Then another. There was only one branch, or else I don’t know how we would have known where to go. 

The next branch was barely wide enough for both feet. It bounced a little when I stepped on its dark and scaly bark. I gasped.

“Seems steady enough,” Millie observed.

“Yeah. Okay.”

This branch made a wide curve, like a giant snake feeling its way around an invisible tree trunk. I saw that the curve overlooked a clearing. There was suddenly a pit in my stomach. I stared down at my shoes and tried to think of what I would say to Mom. My mind was blank. We had an idea, though. We just needed her to listen. We scooted out a little slower.

There she was, on the ground. I could see a ladder across the clearing where she must have gotten down. She was talking to a group of people holding big tools that I had seen last time, with sharp corners and buzzing parts.

“They’re getting ready to cut down those trees,” I said.

Millie swallowed. “Maybe it doesn’t look as scary from Ms Petunia’s view.”

“We need to get down to her right now.”

Mom never looked up at us as we side-stepped from branch to branch, all the way around the clearing to the ladder. The people were beginning to spread out with their big tools in hand. The back of my throat tightened. Millie climbed down first, and I followed as fast as I could. 

I let my hands slide down the sides of the ladder, not caring about rope burn. With two steps left I jumped, thinking it would be faster, although I ended up tripping over the first step.

“Are you okay?” asked Millie.

“Yeah.” I stood up and brushed the dirt off while still walking. “Where’s Mom?”

“Over there, taking notes.”

We ran to her. “Mom!” I called.

She didn’t turn around right away, but finished what she was writing. When she finally saw us she seemed surprised.

“Grey, Millie, what are you doing here?” She clasped her hands together and stood up straighter.

“Mom, we have an idea for the new rooms. You don’t have to kill anything for it.”

Mom looked confused. “Dear, don’t speak like that. Wood is made from trees. Trees are living. We can’t build anything out of wood without something dying. What are you talking about?”

Even though she was giving me her attention like I wanted, I felt like crying. I swallowed, trying to keep it in. Millie spoke up.

“Our idea is that you make them out of clay, so the trees can stay. Clay comes from the ground, so maybe we could find enough of it instead.”

Mom just stared at us. Her eyes darted between me and Millie without expression. She turned around to glance at all the people, who’s tools were already buzzing. I opened my mouth to speak.

“Please.”

“Grey, Millie, go home, please.”

“But Mom!” My voice broke a little. I couldn’t hold it in. “What if there are animals living in these trees? What do we do?” And then I saw them. Right behind Mom there was a woman standing on one of the ladders with no tree. She was reaching with thick gloves toward two chipmunks in the tree hollow. They didn’t have anywhere to run. The woman just grabbed them in her hands.

“No!”

I ran past Mom. The woman was climbing down the ladder with the creatures tight in her grip.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

When she reached the ground I was right behind her. She was startled to see a kid, and looked like she didn’t know what to say.

“I- um- I need to take care of these.” She started to walk away.

“Wait!” I stepped in her way again. “Can I have them?”

I held my arms out for the chipmunks. Hesitantly, she gave them into my cradle. They felt small and afraid, squirming but not running away from me. I took them away, out past the treeline, and laid them down on the ground. The chipmunks inspected the ground and then ran out of my sight. I hoped they were going someplace safe.

I returned to the clearing where Millie and Mom were. 

“We didn’t mean any harm, Ms Petunia,” Millie was saying. “In fact, Grey and I will go home now.”

“It’s quite alright, Millie.” Mom saw that I was back. She closed her eyes and acknowledged me with a small nod.

“Right Grey?” I could see Millie’s wide eyes as she asked, but I was still thinking about the animals.

“What if there are more animals here? I have to stay to help them.”

That’s when Mom stepped in again. “This has already been unsafe for you, Grey. Millie’s right. You both need to go back home.”

“But-”

Millie took my arm. Her eyes said ‘I’m sorry’ as she led me back to the trees, but she didn’t let go. I waited until I was at the top of the ladder and she was standing on the branch, staring off into the distance.

“It’s not fair, Millie. She’s not listening again.”

“Maybe we should just let her do her job. If it weren’t for jobs like this, I wouldn’t be here.”

I stood up. She was still staring away from me.

“What are you saying?”

“Just, I don’t want to stop her from building rooms. It’s too important.” She started to walk back. 

“What are you talking about? We’re just showing her we care that she’s doing a bad thing.”

“Helping kids is not bad. We’re just getting in the way.”

“No we’re not. She isn’t listening to us.”

We walked the rest of the way in silence. When we got to the swinging vines, I let Millie go first. I heaved a big breath before taking the first vine and jumping after. Millie was waiting for me on the branch.

“Good job,” she said softly.

“You too.”

We walked back to the Treehouse, where Layanne was teaching Pip how to make play-dough at the kitchen table. We sat and joined them as if nothing had happened.

☀

At dinner that night, as everyone lined up to grab pillows to sit on, I stayed in the back of the line. We always chose a pillow that was our favorite color for the day. But I didn’t feel bright yellow, fiery red, royal blue or lively green. In the end I grabbed one from the bottom that I thought of as colorless. It looked like the bark of the faraway trees, not quite brown and not quite gray. I sat by Millie, who had chosen solid white.

Mom kneeled down at the head of the floor table on her usual red with white pinstripes. She once said it was the orderly one because every stripe knew exactly where it was going and didn’t stop to ask any questions. 

She passed Whitley the platter of meatloaf. When it came around to me, I couldn’t help but notice the smell. I looked up at Mom, who had her eyes down and was stirring potatoes. I imagined her chopping the meat with chunks sticking to her fingers, watching squirrels out the window hurry away in fear. Mom washing her hands as it cooked and never saying a word about it, just giving it to us to eat. I wondered for the first time, what is she ever thinking when she’s that silent?

I passed that platter along and decided to fill up on extra potatoes and carrots instead. Everyone was cutting their meatloaf with a fork and knife, just as Mom had taught us to. I watched Silas struggle with a tough piece, sawing through it with all his force, scrunching up his face. Mom didn’t even seem to notice. She got out her own knife and easily worked it through her food like it was second nature to her. Beside me, Millie was slowly cutting her meatloaf.

At some point Mom put down her knife.
“Would anyone like to share gratitude tonight?”

Pip spoke up. “Play dough!”

Layanne added, “Fun!”

Talia and Grigsby both said “Family!” like they did every night.

“This House!”

“All the rooms!”

“Ms Petunia!”

“A home!” said Millie.

Mom smiled and nodded, leaving room for more people to answer. I just took a bite of potatoes and stared at the plate. I didn’t feel grateful for these rooms anymore. I didn’t feel grateful for anything at all. I was afraid. That was all I knew.

And I realized something. I would never be able to look at my walls without thinking of the birds who lost their homes. I would never be as comfortable here as I used to be. Even with Mom, I would never be able to pretend I knew everything going on inside her head. I couldn’t even understand why she didn’t listen to me today or this morning. I would never again believe that she listens to everything I say.

“Grey, are you okay?” Millie asked as we were standing up to wash our dishes. I shook my head. “You can’t be mad at Ms Petunia, Grey. She’s too important for us to push her away.”

I nodded, although I wasn’t sure if I agreed. “I’m going to go to bed early.”

“Okay. I’ll play in here for a little while in case you come out.”

“It’s okay, I don’t think I will. Goodnight.” 

She nodded. “Goodnight, Grey.”

I smiled at others who were beginning to go different directions in search of games and toys. When I got to my bedspace, I closed the door, sat down on my bed, and thought. It wasn’t long before I knew what I was going to do.

☀

Later that night, I crawled quietly out of bed. There wouldn’t be anyone in the main room except for Mom in her bedspace. As long as I didn’t wake her I could do this. I slowly opened the closet door and took out my backpack. In it I stuffed a change of clothes, a toothbrush, and a water cup. It zipped up smoothly. I pulled on my shoes, tied them extra tight, and tiptoed out of my bedspace.

Millie was still there, stroking a stuffed rabbit. She seemed lost in thought, until she saw me and my backpack, and the tears now in my eyes. She quickly got up and stood in front of the door. 

“What are you doing, Grey?” 

She knew exactly what I was trying to do.

“Please, before anyone wakes up.”

“Why?”

“I have to. If Mom’s not going to stop tearing down the animals’ homes, I don’t think I can stay.”

“Is this because you got upset today?” She didn’t budge. “You’re not going to make it better by doing something crazy. Please think this through.”

“It wasn’t just today, it’s been since I found out about the birds.” I kept glancing over her shoulder, at the door, but she  pretended not to notice. “And I don’t know how I’m going to make it better, or even if I will. I just don’t want to be part of it anymore. Please let me go.”

“ But- where will you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, when will you come back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe never?”

She suddenly looked up, craning her neck to see the wall behind me. Then turning to the wall behind her. She found what she was looking for, The Golden Rock, on a shelf. Without moving from the doorway, she leaned out to grab it.

“Remember this?” she held it out to me. The way she looked over it herself would make you think it was real gold and not paint. “Ms Petunia swore each of us in and said to us, ‘from this day on, you have a home. You will never have to fend for yourself.’ I know it’s different for you because you were born here, but Grey, if you leave, where else will you find this?”

There were tears in her eyes too now.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Then why would you leave the one home you have?” 

I tried not to think about how much I would miss her.

“Millie, maybe you can make this place better. You can stop Mom and the others from cutting down trees, even if I can’t.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“You saw what they almost did to those animals today –” I went quiet. I put down my backpack for a moment and opened my arms for a hug. She took it and squeezed me with more force than I had ever seen from her, even when we would play tag on the swinging vines. 

“I really have to go,” I said to her shoulder. Millie let go, sighed, and stepped away from the door. I reached down to pick up my backpack.

 Before I could pick it up, I heard footsteps pit-patting down the hallway. We must have woken Mom up. Sure enough, she emerged from behind the wall in her flowery pajamas. Millie jumped.

“Ms Petunia!” she cried and stood up straighter.

“You must have had some trouble falling asleep,” she whispered, as if the kids in other rooms could hear us. “Shall I read to you children for a bit?”

I looked at Millie and gave a silent sigh. It was too late for me to go. When Millie understood, she looked back to Mom and nodded eagerly. 

“Alright. Come along.” She smiled at me and patted my shoulder, and for some reason, I still couldn’t help but smile back.”

☀

I woke up in between Mom and Millie. They were both still asleep. I felt tired and sad. I inched out of the bed and slid off the edge. The two of them were completely still. Mom’s hands were folded in front of her and her head drooped back on the pillow. Millie lay on her stomach with her head on her hands and one leg stretched to the side.

I turned away from them and made up my mind, one more time. 

My backpack was still sitting there by the front door. I slid it open and stepped onto the porch. The sun was below us. The sky had orange and pink stripes. I walked down the East Branch, starting slow but speeding up as I went. I thought about going past the ladder and making my own way down the tree, but I realized I wouldn’t know where to begin. I began climbing down the ladder. I didn’t know where I would go once I reached the ground. I wondered how the squirrel and chipmunks felt as they ran away from us. I wondered how the chipmunks and birds felt the moment they realized they were without a home. I wondered where they would have ended up. Hopefully I’ll learn soon.