“Yes, I’ve been called that before.I don’t like it.”
“How come?”
“Brainiac sounds like maniac.”
He giggles again, though I’m serious.
“Dad says you’re not like other people.”
My shoulders deflate over the possible meanings of such a remark to a child.Was it a warning?“I’m not.Neither are you.Everyone is different.Mango isn’t the same as any other snake.”
“Do you think Mango would like to sleep under my pillow?”
“Yes, I think Mango would enjoy that, if your father allows.”
“Can Mango take baths with me?”
“Yes, if your father allows.”
“Are plants afraid of the dark?”
“No, they need a break from the hot sun, just like we do.Besides, plants don’t have eyes or fears.”
“Areyouafraid of the dark?”
I pause to consider his question.“I’m not afraidofthe dark, but there have been times when I’ve been afraidinthe dark.Do you understand the difference?”
He nods, pressing the sandy dirt around a lopsided flytrap.“I’m afraid ofa lot of things.Dad says I need to be brave, like you.”
An uneasy lump forms in my throat, and I’m unsure of what to do with that information.I’ve never considered myself brave for exploring nature—it’s what I’ve always been taught to do.The other times that Henry considered me brave stemmed from my desire to help him and my need for his friendship.Having someone to be brave for makes all the difference.
“No, not likeme.Be brave, likeyou.You have a brave heart, Olly.Look how you handled these carnivorous plants.Besides…” I ease Mango free from where he sticks out of Olly’s pocket.“Mango needs you, now.Be brave for him, too.He won’t be afraid of the dark as long as he has you.”
Mango doesn’t have fears or feelanythinganymore—that’s understood.And surely, a child as intelligent as Olly understands that while accepting the allegory I’m proposing.
“I used to be brave for your dad,” I go further, “and it helped me be brave overall.Your dad was also brave for me.”
“How?”
My shoulders bounce.“By being my friend when no one else would.”
His brow quirks.“Because you’re different?”
“I suppose so.But I’d rather be different, like Mango, than be another boring, old rock.Wouldn’t you?”
Olly’s cheeks puff into a big smile as he takes Mango into his hands and holds the rock up toward the newly finished garden.“Look, Mango.We did it.”
The rooftop door swings open with a screech, and Henry bumbles onto the roof, as if hurried.He almost looks surprised to find us alive and well.
“Oh, well, Olly.Your father’s back.I guess we can’t rappel off the building now or set anything on fire,” I say, locking eyes with Henry.Olly giggles, remarkably catching my sarcasm.
Henry’s shoulders slump, and he sends a hand through his mussed hair.“I wasn’t rushing to get back.I didn’t want to impose on you.That’s all.”
I don’t believe him, but I let it go.I help Olly off his planter perch and lean down to face him.“You understand that I was joking, correct?We don’t rappel off buildings or set fires, not for fun.”
“I know,” he chuckles.“That wouldn’t be safe for Mango, anyway.”
“Precisely,” I grin.“It’s been a great pleasure to meet you, Olly.”
