The Truth of Me by Patricia MacLachlan Page A

much everything.
    I know Maddy says she has lots of animal friends in the woods. I know she says she once shared corn bread with a bear, the two of them sitting on a log.
    But I also know something my mother and father don’t know.
    Maddy has powers all her own. Powers that other people don’t have.
    Jack and Lizzie know this, too. They have met Maddy.
    â€œMaddy has gifts,” says Lizzie.
    â€œDo you mean magic?” I ask.
    â€œNo. Gifts,” says Lizzie. “That’s different. Remember when she was here and the birds came down from the trees to see her?”
    â€œAnd a fox came?” says Jack. “It came right up to her? The animals seem to know that she is safe.”
    â€œThey want to be close to her,” says Lizzie. “That’s her gift. They trust her.”
    I don’t care if Maddy tells stories.
    Lizzie and Jack don’t care if she tells stories.
    But my parents care.
    And my parents are very nervous.

2

The Quirky Quartet
    T here is, at last, a new second violinist for my mother’s string quartet. He is an unlikely choice, to look at him. He wears boots and cutoff jeans and has several tattoos on his arm, including one that says PLAY, BABY, PLAY ! His name is David Chance, an interesting name since he takes a big “chance” playing with my mother. And though I can tell my mother does not approve of his clothes, her eyebrows rise with happy surprise when he begins to play.
    My father is playing viola today. Marybeth, the wild-haired cellist, is going to have a baby, though you can’t tell behind her cello.
    My mother is annoyed with Marybeth for having a baby, I can tell. It means my mother will have to find another cellist. I think it is Marybeth’s business if she wants to have a strange-looking, wild-haired baby of her own.
    They are an odd bunch, I think. They are called the Allegro Quartet when they play concerts. I call them the Quirky Quartet.
    The reason for the new second violinist is that the first one died in the middle of a concert, falling forward slowly into his Mozart music. That disturbed my mother’s sense of how things should be. They had to stop the concert, attend to him, carry him offstage, and cancel the concert.
    Today they are playing the same Mozart. They come to the soft, sweet place where the second violinist died. I suppose it is better to die in a nice, slow melody rather than a snappy one.
    I almost wrote about this event for my teacher, but, for sure, Miss Cross wouldn’t have believed it to be true.
    They are rehearsing today in our living room before they go off on summer tour and I get to stay with Maddy. Ellie is half in love with David Chance, leaning against his leg, looking up at him as he plays.
    David reaches down and scratches Ellie behind an ear, and my mother frowns. David knows she is frowning. He winks at me. He smiles brightly at my mother and plays so beautifully that she can’t frown anymore.
    They play and stop to talk about a note that they all hold together. Then they play again. Ellie lies down on David’s foot with a sigh. She rolls over on her back. Soon, when the music reaches a crescendo, Ellie will “pass gas,” as my mother puts it; and they will have to pick up their music and stands and flee to the porch to play.
    Until then, Mozart and sunlight fill the room.
    It is evening. A moon hangs above the meadow outside the kitchen.
    My mother is on the phone.
    â€œYes, he’s packed, Mother. We’ll drive him over tomorrow. We’ll be in a hurry, so we can’t stop to visit.”
    There is a pause.
    â€œRobert? Pick up the phone. Maddy wants to ask you a question.”
    She watches as I pick up the hallway phone. She doesn’t hang up. I can hear her breathing.
    â€œRobbie? Are you bringing Ellie?” asks Maddy.
    â€œYes,” I say. “Is that all right?”
    I move back in the hallway and look at my mother, still listening on the