Alphabet Allie's Arc

Chapter 22 of 22

Allie pulled the bucket up on the rope, hand over hand. The eyes in the dark climbed closer. A small bird gripped the edge of the bucket and hopped onto the stone. He had orange feathers, a long beak, and a tan vest with many pockets. A magnifying glass hung from his neck. He shook water from his wings and blinked at her. "Thank you," he said. "I'm a Xenops. A tropical bird. I lost my way and fell in." His stomach growled loud. He looked up, embarrassed. "And I'm starving." Allie opened her notebook. "Xenops starts with X," she said. Her pencil stopped. X was a hard letter. She had collected almost every other one, but X stayed empty. "I don't have any X-friends yet. You could be my first." The bird pressed a wing to his belly. "First I need food. Something I can eat. Do you know any food that starts with X?" Allie thought hard. She could not name one. No X-apple. No X-bread. She frowned at her empty page and felt the old sting, the feeling of wanting something and coming up short. Then she remembered the walnuts and the shelves she'd sorted by letter. She had learned to look, not just think. "Wait here," she said. She searched the grass around the well. Near the window leaned a crate of odds and ends. Inside sat a clear bag of round orange fruit. A label read XIMENIA across the front. Allie's heart jumped. "X," she whispered. "Xenops. Ximenia. You match." She carried the bag back and held it out. The Xenops tore it open with his beak and ate three pieces fast. Juice ran down his feathers. "Ximenia," he said, mouth full. "My favorite. You found it." Allie wrote both words on her X-page. For the first time it had ink on it. But the bird's wings still drooped. Full belly or not, he looked sad. "I'm still lost," he said. "And far from home. I don't feel like singing." Allie looked back at the crate. Under a cloth sat a wooden instrument with colored bars and two small mallets. The word XYLOPHONE ran along its side. She dragged it over and set it between them. "X again," she said. She tapped a bar. A bright note rang out. She tapped another. "Xenops, ximenia, xylophone. Three X-friends in one place." The bird picked up a mallet in his beak. He struck a bar, then another, until the notes turned into a tune. His wings lifted. He hopped and played and laughed between notes. Allie laughed with him. When he finished, he looked at her with bright eyes. "You made the hardest letter fun," he said. "I want to show others. Will you take me to those University adults? If I play this for them, maybe they'll love letters too." Allie closed her notebook. Her X-page was full at last. "Yes," she said. "Let's go."