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“Yeah, okay. Mudpie if it’s a boy, and Butterfly if it’s a girl.” Theo nods, still massaging his sore butt. He sweeps sandy-blond bangs away from his forehead, revealing eyes glinting with the same dark-blue color as his shirt. “Hey, Brant, maybe you can come over and meet her after she’s out of Mom’s belly?”
I’d love that!
I’m about to reply when I register what he just said. “Her?”
Theo shrugs again, scrunching up his nose. “I think it’s a girl. I can just picture her wearing little pink dresses and giant bows. She’ll be real pretty, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I bet she will be.”
“I’m going to take good care of her. I’ll be the best big brother ever,” he says, bobbing his head with a prideful smile. It’s the same smile Dad has when he stares at the lawn after a fresh mow. “I’ll be like Mario, and you can be Luigi if you want. She’ll be Princess Peach, and we’ll protect her from all the bad guys in the world.”
I picture it. I envision grand adventures and battles, sword fights and bravery. The images shoot a tickle straight to my heart.
I always wanted something worth defending, and Mom won’t let me have a puppy.
Theo’s new baby will have to do.
“I like that idea, Theo. We’ll make a great team.”
Our daydreams are interrupted when Theo’s mother pokes her head out of their house, her belly so round and large, it holds the screen door open all by itself. There must be something as big as a watermelon inside—there must.
Maybe we should name her Watermelon.
“Theodore! We’re heading to the hospital!”
Theo’s dad rushes out, carrying at least seven bags, two dangling from around his neck. His face is beet red, the same color as the van he tosses the belongings into, and he looks like he might faint. He might even have a heart attack. He’s sweating a whole lot.
“Now, Son! We’re having a baby!” his father shouts, tripping on a divot in the driveway as he races back to the front of the house.
My friend’s eyes pop. “She’s coming, Brant! Did you hear that?”
“I heard it,” I say eagerly, a little bit jealous of my friend. I want a baby sister. In fact, I’d trade anything in the world for a baby sister.
You hear that, sky? I’ll trade anything for a baby sister!
I’m not sure why I tell my secret to the sky, but Mom always looks up at the ceiling when she says her prayers at night. Maybe she’s talking to the sky.
Maybe it listens.
The cotton candy cloud doesn’t answer back, and neither does the setting sun. The birds don’t sing. The treetops sway and shimmy, but they are also silent.
My wish is stolen by the early summer breeze, never to be heard.
Theo mounts his bicycle, waving goodbye at me as he scoots along with his feet. He nearly topples over on the sidewalk, shouting with excitement, “See you later, Luigi!”
I grin at the name. Luigi. It means I’m a fighter. A protector.
A hero.
And it’s a lot better than fartknocker.
“Bye, Mario,” I yell back.
Theo almost tips over again when he tries to send me another wave, the bike swerving madly, but he catches his balance and darts home just as his father races his mother to the van. She’s holding her plump belly, making awful, painful sounds. She sure doesn’t look happy.
I don’t get it.
“Brant, honey…it’s almost dinner time.”
