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Keisha and Wen looked at each other. It wasn’t so easy to earn Aaliyah’s respect.

“I can do better than that. I’ll teach you so we don’t freeze to death.”

Even though it was fun to learn a new way to handclap, as soon as the bell rang, the FFGs rushed to line up.

Ms. Tellerico tapped Keisha’s shoulder on the way into the building. “I’ll tell Mr. Drockmore you two will be a little late. Why don’t you show Savannah the library first?”

Keisha and Savannah followed the class upstairs to the 4–5 wing, where Keisha took off her boots and mittens and jacket. Then she took Savannah down the hall to the library. “This is my favorite place in school,” Keisha told Savannah.

They went through the big double doors. The library was empty and quiet and warm as toast. Keisha curled up in one of the big armchairs by the picture windows. Savannah sat next to her, staring out at the street below. They could see the A.M.E. Church, the Baxter Community Center, even as far as Ron’s Hand-Done Car Wash two blocks away.

“It takes a little getting used to.…” Savannah’s voice trailed off. “All this city, I mean.”

“What are you used to?” Keisha asked.

Savannah jumped up and ran over to Ms. Wilson’s book display at the entrance to the library. She came back with a book about farms.

“This,” she said, holding it out for Keisha.

It was just a little kid’s book, filled with pictures of tractors and cows and chickens.

“You lived on a farm in Alabama? Why did you leave?”

“My mama and daddy … they got a divorce. And the farm has been in Daddy’s family since the Civil War.” Savannah looked at Keisha as if she expected her to say something. But Keisha didn’t know what to say.

“Beau’s in college already, and little Benny had to stay back to help with the chickens. Eggs … that’s our main business. But Mama wanted a fresh start, so we moved up here to be with her people for a while.”

Keisha studied the book. “It’s so different,” she said.

Savannah flipped the pages to a picture of a man riding a horse, herding cows into a pen. “That’s what I miss most … my horse, Sugar.” Savannah sucked in her lips until Keisha couldn’t see them anymore. “Double rats,” Savannah said when she’d opened her mouth again. “I swore I wouldn’t cry on the first day.”

“It’s okay.” Keisha patted Savannah’s red knee. It was still cold from being outside. “I cried in the library once. Marcus dropped the
Webster’s
dictionary on my toe.”

“Did it swell up?”

Keisha nodded. “Big! I had to go to the school nurse and elevate it during math.”

“You got to miss math … that was good timing.”

“Yup,” Keisha agreed, even though she liked math. “And it was better by art time. It had to be! We were painting ceramics.”

The V.A. facility was across the street from Riverside Park. All summer, whenever the Carters went to Too-Tall’s Cone Stand, they had to walk a different way to avoid the construction. That’s because a park with a fountain, a gazebo and handicapped ramps was being installed on the side nearest the rehabilitation facility. Daddy said some local businessmen and women who had served their country raised the money for the park to be built. They wanted to make it a little nicer for those who had to recover from injuries. Next summer, when the weather was nice, the patients could go out in wheelchairs and sit by the fountain in a grove of trees. For the winter months, they’d installed a sunroom with a big picture window that overlooked a ravine and gave a good view of the new bird feeders.

“Look, Daddy.” Keisha pointed. “They must have finished the construction this fall. Doesn’t the gazebo look pretty all covered in snow? You can’t even see the stream anymore.”

“It does look nice.” Daddy’s eyes traveled from the
gazebo to the building. “I didn’t realize the bird feeders would be so close to the picture window. I need to remind Harold to put up some decals so the birds don’t fly into that big piece of glass.”

Daddy looked down and ruffled Razi’s hair. “Hey, big thinker. Don’t suck on your mitten. That defeats the purpose.”

“But I’m remembering my steps.” Razi ran up the long walk to the entrance to the hospital. Heel-toe-shuffle-dip. Looking down, he jumped up as if climbing a stair, tapping his way up invisible steps.

“Hold up there, mister. Don’t dance me off my feet.” Keisha and Daddy had been watching Razi, so nobody saw the man coming around the corner. He wasn’t using crutches, but what looked like two short sticks to help him walk. One of his legs seemed twice as big as a normal one and had a funny bulge at the knee.

“Sorry about that,” Daddy apologized, jogging over to where Razi and the man had almost collided. “Razi, come over here. You need to watch where you’re going, buddy.”

“No problem,” the man said. “I’m told I’ll be able to do that someday, too. But for now, I’m more tippy than tappy. Sergeant Pinkham, at your service. But you can call me Sarge.”

“Good to meet you, Sarge. Fred Carter. And these are my children Keisha and Razi.”

“Is Razi our little Fred Astaire?”

Razi looked up at Sgt. Pinkham. “I’m not Fred Astaire. I’m Bill ‘Bojangles’ Robinson and I’m practicing my stair dance. Do you want to see?” Razi didn’t wait for his audience to decide; he ran ahead to the real steps at the entrance to the hospital.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll sit down for this.” Sgt. Pinkham brushed off one of the benches that flanked the walk and sat down. Keisha could see that it hurt him to move from the way he pressed his lips together when his bottom found the bench seat.

“It’s not so much the walking but the uneven ground. I’m waiting for a better sleeve.”

“I’m sorry.” Daddy took a seat beside Sgt. Pinkham. He patted the space beside him, but since Keisha didn’t have her snow pants on, she stood next to Daddy at the side of the bench and leaned on his shoulder.

“I’m not quite following you,” Daddy said. “A sleeve to help your leg feel better?”

“That’s the word they use for the fitting between my real leg and my artificial one. When I try to walk on the snow, this one rubs against my skin … it’s like … well, like a shoe that doesn’t fit right.”

“How long since …,” Daddy started to ask, but then his voice trailed off.

“I got hit by an IED—that’s an improvised explosive device—while delivering supplies outside of Kabul last March. Four pieces of shrapnel lodged in my lower leg. They’ve tried to save it. I’ve had twelve surgeries. But a couple of months ago, the docs decided my only two options were to fuse my ankle together or to take off the lower leg entirely. It was a hard decision to make, but I decided to have my leg removed. With all the new prosthetic technology, I’ll be able to do a lot more with an artificial limb than a damaged real one. It’s only been a month since that surgery, so the stump’s a little tender.”

“You had it removed.…” As he talked, Daddy pointed at Sgt. Pinkham’s knee, which caused the man to flinch to avoid being touched.

“Funny thing,” Sgt. Pinkham said. “Even when it’s not there, I try to protect my injured foot from getting hurt.”

“I’ve read that amputees can still feel the limb that’s been removed.”

“You mean the phantom toes?” Sarge reached out as if he was going to massage his foot, but rubbed his thigh instead. “I sure can. Sometimes I wake up at night because of the itching. Other times, I feel like the toes are all twisted together. It’s really strange.”

They stopped talking for a minute and watched Razi as he rocked back and forth, tapping the step with his toe, jumping up two steps, down one, then tapping across.

“Those little foot movements seem like such a miracle to me now,” Sarge said after watching a minute. “I guess I took all that for granted until, well … until I couldn’t anymore.”

“Sounds like you’ve been here awhile,” Daddy said. “Did you grow up in Grand River?”

Sgt. Pinkham laughed. “Nosireee Bob! I grew up in the mountains of Colorado. My mom and my sister fly out once a month to see how I’m coming along, but I miss them
almost
as much as I miss the mountains.” Sgt. Pinkham winked at Keisha to show he was joking.

A rustling sound in front of them caused Keisha to jump in surprise. A fat, bushy squirrel holding an apple core was perched on the edge of a garbage can just across the sidewalk.

Keisha pressed into Daddy. The squirrel was so close she could see little huffs of warm breath coming out of its mouth.

“Familiar little guy,” Daddy remarked. “In fact, that’s why we’re here.”

“Larry is why you’re here?”

Daddy glanced at Sgt. Pinkham. “Larry? Are you talking about the squirrel?”

“He may be any old squirrel to you, but to me, he’s my friend Larry. Like I said, my family’s far away, and I don’t get out much.… Hey, buddy.”

“But how can you tell who is who?” Keisha asked.

“Because they do look different if you pay attention. Larry’s tail looks like it was dipped in brown paint.”

Larry chirped at the humans watching him, almost as if to say,
Don’t bother me now—I’m busy.
Then he proceeded to eat his apple. Keisha watched, amazed. Larry gnawed his way around the apple core,
turning the fruit with his finger-like paws and then flipping it upside down to get at the bottom. All that was left before he dropped it and scampered away was the stringy piece in the middle. He’d even eaten the seeds.

“Hmmm.” Daddy rubbed his chin. “Very interesting.”

“Uh-oh.” Keisha pointed to the hospital entrance. “Razi found someone else to almost run into, Daddy.” A man had rushed out of the building and nearly collided with Razi. As Razi chattered away—not unlike the squirrel—the man watched him with a puzzled expression.
Keisha bet he was wondering what a little kid was doing tap-dancing on the hospital steps in the middle of winter.

“Stay here, Key.” Daddy ran over to Razi and struck up a conversation with the man. They shook hands. From the way the man clapped Daddy on the shoulder, Keisha thought they must know each other.

“That’s the director of the facility. Lieutenant Washington. Former Navy man. Good guy,” Sarge told Keisha. “A little too much spit and polish for my taste, but a good guy.” Sarge used his hands to re-position his leg. “Mmmm, that’s better. My stump was falling asleep.”

Keisha stole a glance at the place Sarge’s leg must have been cut off. She could see the outline of the “sleeve” that he’d been describing earlier.

“Want me to explain it?” Sarge asked her, patting the bench to invite Keisha to sit beside him. “My experience is that kids have a lot of questions about amputations, but they don’t think it’s polite to ask.”

Keisha nodded. Sarge was right. She never would have asked on her own, but she was curious.

So Sarge told her how the shrapnel had damaged not just the bones but the tendons and, even more important, the arteries. “Arterial flow, they call it. It’s how the blood circulates through your body, and the blood is
what delivers the oxygen. My arteries were so damaged that it was like my foot had trouble breathing.” Sarge burst into a hearty laugh. “That sounds strange, even to me. But maybe you have a question I haven’t thought of.…”

He was right, of course. Keisha had about ten questions, but she wouldn’t dare—

“Ask one.”

“What do you miss being able to do most?”

“That’s easy. Climbing. I did a lot of rock climbing before I joined up.” Sarge smiled at the memory. “What would you miss the most?”

“Jump rope.” The answer came automatically to Keisha, but then she wondered if that was true anymore. “Maybe,” she whispered.

“Why maybe?” Sarge scooted closer to Keisha. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Later, she told Wen she couldn’t believe she was telling a perfect stranger about her biggest problem. But he had such a kind look on his face while she explained her jump rope worries that it was easy.

After Keisha finished, Sarge said, “That is a big problem. I’d like to think on that one, if I may.”

“Okay,” Keisha agreed, but it didn’t seem like a very big problem compared to Sarge’s.

They sat in silence, watching Lt. Washington show
Razi how to do a military salute. After Lt. Washington and Daddy shook hands again, Razi tore down the steps and over to Keisha and Sarge.