Ivy and Bean_ Books 4,5,6 - Annie Barrows [14]
“We could share him,” said Bean.
“Sure we could,” said Ivy. “That’s what good people do. They share.”
“He doesn’t even have to lick my foot,” said Bean. “It’s fine if he just follows me around.”
“I know,” said Ivy. “Me, too.” She raised her arms again. “But I’m starting with birds. I think they’ll be easier to get than a wolf. You know,” she whispered, “they’re not so smart.” She looked up and smiled at the sky. “La-la-la,” she sang sweetly.
“I don’t see any birds,” said Bean, glancing up.
“Me neither,” said Ivy. “Maybe they’re hiding in the trees.”
Bean watched her for another moment. “I like birds, too,” she said in a loud voice. “Almost as much as wolves.” She held her hands upward. “How do you do it?”
“What?”
“Be so good that a bird lands on you?”
“You can’t think about yourself. You have to think nice thoughts about other people,” said Ivy.
Bean concentrated. She thought, I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. Even though you’re totally unfair. She thought of Nancy. Oh, I guess I love you, too, Nancy. Then she thought of Nancy saying, “Seven-year-olds aren’t allowed to go to horse camp, so HA!” and “Isn’t it past Bean’s bedtime, Mom?” Stupid Nancy, I hope you fall off a horse. Oops.
“Boy, this is harder than it looks,” she said to Ivy. “I can think nice thoughts about my mom and dad, but that’s it.”
“Oh, your mom and dad are too easy. You aren’t good enough if you just think nice thoughts about your mom and dad. You have to think nice thoughts about mean people.”
“Holy moly, I can’t even think nice thoughts about Nancy, and she’s my sister.”
“I’m thinking nice thoughts about Crummy Matt,” Ivy announced.
“No way!” said Bean.
Crummy Matt was the meanest kid Bean knew. He was so mean he told little kids that chocolate milk was brown because it had poop in it. He was so mean that he kicked kickballs onto the school roof on purpose, so no one else could play with them. He was so mean he threw rocks at cats.
“Uh-huh,” said Ivy proudly. “I am.”
“There’s nothing nice to think about Crummy Matt,” said Bean.
“I’m thinking that I hope he stops being so crummy,” said Ivy. “Hey—it’s working!”
A little brown bird was hopping near Ivy’s pond. Boing, boing, boing.
Ivy held her breath.
“Here, birdie!” squeaked Bean.
The bird flew away.
Ivy sighed. “Now I have to start all over again.”
“Sorry,” said Bean.
Ivy smiled in a pure-of-heart way at Bean. “Now I’m thinking nice thoughts about you,” she said.
Bean didn’t like the sound of that.
A CRUMMY PLAN
Bean could not think one more nice thought. She had thought something nice about every single kid in her class. She had wished that there were peace on earth and no more litter—that should make the animals happy—and that everyone had plenty to eat and only things they liked.
Not one bird had come anywhere near her.
There was sweat dripping out from under her hair.
Plus, her arms ached.
“Shoot,” said Bean, dropping her arms. “How long was it before the wolf licked that guy’s feet and followed him home?”
Ivy dropped her arms, too. “I think it only took him a few minutes, but we’re just beginners. He was an expert. The mayor called him out especially to talk to the wolf because the wolf had been eating up the townspeople. In the picture, there were all these arms and legs lying around. But the good guy and the wolf had a talk, and next thing you know the wolf licks his foot and only eats vegetables.”
“Arms and legs lying around?” asked Bean. Gross. But interesting.
“Yeah,” said Ivy. “He was a really bad wolf until he met that good guy.”
Bean pictured herself patting the wolf’s shaggy head. He was trotting alongside her with his wolf claws clicking on the sidewalk. Grateful townspeople waved. “I bet the people were pretty glad not to be eaten, too,” she said.
“Hey,” said Ivy. She was smiling—a real smile, not a thinking-nice-thoughts smile. “What if we did something like that?”
“What? Put fake arms and legs around?” Bean asked.
“Not that,” said Ivy. “I mean turning evil to good. If we turned a bad person into a good person, it would be