School of Charm by Lisa Ann Scott Page B

of her paths. A group of hummingbirds flitted past us.
    Karen grabbed my arm. “Why don’t you let your turtle go in the pond?”
    I sucked in a breath. The solution had found me after all. He could go to Miss Vernie’s pond, and not the toilet or the animal stuffer’s or the soup kettle. But I shook my head. “He needs special care.” Turtles might live in ponds, but this was a New York turtle born much too early. I couldn’t let him go here in a totally different state. He’d probably die. I left him on the deck like Miss Vernie said.
    We went to her shed and got shovels, then followed Miss Vernie down one of her shady paths into a clearing. The pond waited like a pot of liquid gold, sunk into the earth. It was rimmed with cattails. Two dragonflies darted after each other, skimming the surface. The pond was smaller than the one we had back home, but just looking at it made my heart squeeze tight. Billy would have jumped right in.
    â€œGirls, I’m hoping you can remove these cattails.” Miss Vernie waved her hand toward the water. “Sometimes a thing just grows and grows until it takes over. I know it looks like a huge project, but I’m certain you can do it. Just pile ’em up off to the side.” She smiled and walked away.
    â€œYou have got to be kidding me,” Dana said, staring at the pond and shaking her head. The sun highlighted red glints in her puffy Afro. She stood with her arms crossed for a while and then shrugged. “Maybe they’ll pop out of the water real easy.” I liked how Dana was always ready to tackle Miss Vernie’s jobs.
    We glared at the thick growth circling the pond. “Sure are a lot of them,” I said. “But how hard could it be?” I tugged on one and got my answer: hard. I reached into the muck and grabbed the roots. The cattails were linked together in a big web. “We’re going to have to use the shovels to dig them out.” My arms were already covered in mud up to my elbows.
    â€œYou mean we’re going to have to step in that gunk?” Karen backed away from the pond. “I don’t like getting dirty. My mom doesn’t like me getting dirty either. I’m not getting in there.”
    I picked up one of the shovels. “Unless you’ve got some other idea, you’ll have to get in.” I set the blade between the reeds and jumped on the shovel. It sunk into the mud and I felt the roots beneath me split. I tried to pull them out, but they wouldn’t give up until I dug underneath. Sloshing out of the water, I lugged the hunk of cattails to the shore. I fell back, panting and looking at the puffy clouds gliding by. Tiny rocks on the ground pricked my elbows. “Okay. This is hard.”
    â€œHow are we ever going to do all this?” Karen whined.
    A cicada buzzed in a nearby tree as we sat and sized up all those weeds. I stared so long my eyes started crossing, and I imagined huge eyes were staring back at me. I shook myself out of my daze.
    Dana pushed herself up from the ground. “It’s not going to get done just sittin’ here.” She waded into the water and winced as she sunk into the cold muck. She tugged at the plants, probably testing them to make sure I wasn’t a weakling. She trudged back out, stirring up the mud. The pond was no longer shimmering. It was cloudy and dark. Dana grabbed a shovel and copied my move, straining the muscles in her arms as she heaved the clump of cattails. Her dark, wet skin glistened in the sun.
    I couldn’t help noticing how drops of water nestled in her puffy dark hair like jewels.
    She stopped working and narrowed her eyes at me. “You just gonna watch me do all the work?”
    â€œNo,” I said quickly. I grabbed a shovel and joined her, and we each worked on our second bunch. Karen stood on shore with her arms crossed over her belly.
    â€œAren’t you going to help?” Dana asked