Being Neighborly

Everything was idyllic until the dog launched himself off the deck in a full-on sprint. – Jan Ropers

“Socrates!” Jeanine hollered as she jumped up and ran after the boisterous chocolate lab. “Get. Back. Here!” However, the dog completely ignored his owner and continued his mad dash toward the shimmering golden pheasant that had decided to enjoy the morning from the top of the next-door neighbor’s fence. Jeanine hurtled herself toward Socrates, yelling every obedience training word she could think of, to no avail. She watched him launch upwards in a perfect brown arc toward the idiot bird. In seconds, he was over the fence, and a cloud of golden feathers misted the summer air. Jeanine slammed into the wood boards, splinters digging into her palms. She looked down to see Socrates’ tail wagging madly and pride shining from his brown eyes with his prize dangling limply from his mouth. Now they were in real trouble. The damned dog had killed another of her neighbor’s magical birds. Jeanine leaned her forehead on the fence post, letting the rough timber imprint her skin, as she dreaded the price Mrs. Atkins would ask. She never should have let Trevor get a hunting dog.

That night at dinner Jeanine regarded her family with love and frustration over the bowl of mashed potatoes. Everyone had a small magic. Jeanine’s was thread. She could do anything with a needle and thread from sewing clothes to tatting lace. It all came to her easily and Jeanine could make beautiful things faster and more intricate than anyone else in the village. Trevor, her husband, was a wizard with numbers. Their son Kevin, at 10 years old, hadn’t found his talent yet. It wasn’t unusual, but most of his friends had found their knack and Jeanine was just a touch worried. Mrs. Atkins next door had a talent with birds, thus the flock of golden pheasants that sang all the pop hits of the day. Jeanine scooped up her courage to tell her family the news.

“Well, boys, we have a situation,” she started. Her menfolk instantly focused on her. “Socrates killed another one of Mrs. Atkins’ pheasants.” Two pairs of anguished blue eyes looked back at her. Jeanine took a deep breath. “I’ve managed to calm her down and not get the police involved. However, Socrates can no longer go outside without being leashed.” She looked pointedly at Trevor as the guys breathed sighs of relief. “Also,” Jeanine paused. “Kevin will be spending an hour after school with Mrs. Atkins for the next eight weeks to repay the expense of losing the bird.” She winced at the twin looks of horror across the table.

“But, Moooooom!” Kevin wailed. Jeanine cut him off with a hard look. “Don’t,” she said shortly. “No one is happy, except maybe your dratted dog.” Socrates thumped his tail on the wood floor.

“Jeanine, really?” asked Trevor. “That woman isn’t right!”

“Look, this is not a discussion. This is not disputable topic. It took everything I had to get her to agree not to press charges.” Jeanine’s green eyes flashed. “I’m sorry, but this is how it’s going to be. Mrs. Atkins is not a monster.” At least she was fairly confident Mrs. Atkins was not a monster, but the woman had been nothing but truculent and harsh since they bought the land and built the house. “Kevin, you start tomorrow.”

The first week, Jeanine’s ears were filled with Kevin’s protests, remarkable in their depth and breadth. She hadn’t realized how creative he could be. By the middle of the second week, after two hunger strikes, three tantrums, and a weekend of shunning, Kevin was slowly quieting. Jeanine asked what he was doing for Mrs. Atkins, and all Kevin said was “Taking care of the birds. Jeez, Mom.” By the third week, Kevin seemed resigned to his fate. His homework was also magically getting done on time. Jeanine wasn’t going to look askance at that gift horse. Jeanine and Trevor had found their boy to be wildly intelligent, but hard pressed to focus that intelligence on anything other than video games. Jeanine had spent many a night lying awake and fretting over her son. They’d consulted with his teachers, gotten him tutors, but if the subject bored him, Kevin would pretty much tune out. And he'd come up with increasingly creative ways to avoid it. Not having a knack yet just acerbated the situation.

As the sixth week ticked past, Jeanine was seriously thinking about having a chat with Mrs. Atkins. Kevin’s grades had improved. He wasn’t getting into trouble with his friends at school. He even said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to his parents. She and Trevor were beginning to consider Mrs. Atkins a true witch. They didn’t happen often, but every once and a while a talent was something more.

At the end of eight weeks, Kevin sat at the dinner table calmly eating his cauliflower, which up to this point, he had hated. “Mom, Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, son,” replied Trevor.

“I’d like to keep helping Mrs. Atkins,” Kevin asked.

“Really?” Jeanine tried to keep her voice calm. “Why is that?”

“Well, she’s teaching me a lot and I kinda like the birds.”

“Oh? What’s she teaching you?” Trevor shot Jeanine a concerned look.

Kevin shifted in his chair. “Well, um, y’know how I haven’t found my knack?” His parents nodded. “Well, Mrs. Atkins, she’s been around the world and seen a lot of stuff. She’s got this library full of books and scrolls and maps and stuff. Which is pretty cool.” Kevin played with his fork. “When she heard I didn’t know my talent, she let me cruise through her library to see if there was a book or something to help. Well, we found my knack, sorta by accident. I wanted to get a book from the top shelf and I didn’t think, I just really wanted it, so, like, all of a sudden, I could reach it.” Kevin looked up at his parents and said in a small voice, “My knack is flying.”

Jeanine and Trevor froze, speechless.

“Yeah, so Mrs. Atkins has been giving me flying lessons. Turns out she’s a witch. And once you get to know her, she’s pretty nice. Sarcastic, but nice,” Kevin wound down. “So, is it OK if I keep going over there?”

Jeanine nodded, icy fingers pressed to her lips. Her son, her boy, had the rarest knack of them all. She met Trevor’s wondering gaze. This changed everything.