Matylda, Bright and Tender by Holly M. McGhee

Author:Holly M. McGhee [McGhee, Holly M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7636-9388-6
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2017-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

I wanted to go right upstairs when I walked into the house, but my dad was there.

“Nice out, isn’t it?” he said. He didn’t notice my tote bag.

“Yes,” I said. “I got D3 for Matylda!”

“You went to Total Pets?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good for you!” he said. He was glowing. “We’ll dust the crickets before she eats them.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I’m going to show it to her.”

Before Guy died, my dad was usually at his desk in the basement, writing his books, with an occasional visit upstairs and an occasional game of Monopoly. But now he was there at the door to greet me every time I walked in, even if I just went outside for a minute. If I told him that I wished he would go back to the basement and work on his writing because I just stole three tubs of worms and I had to find a place to hide them, he’d be very worried, and that would be worse than having him standing there whenever I came inside.

Back in my room, I took the containers out of my bag. “You’ve got choices,” I said to Matylda. “What do you want first?” She came to the glass, and I leaned in. “How hungry are you?” I said. “Hungry enough for a super?” She blinked a few times when I said that, kind of like Morse code, so I opened the container. That was another amazing thing about her — she had movable eyelids — but she had never blinked Morse code to me. She was making my job easier with her willingness to communicate.

The supers were so big and brown and stripy and crackly, and they moved quickly in the container of bran. But at least they didn’t jump around like the crickets — I could pinch the end of one with my fingers, like Mike said. It flopped like a freshly caught fish, but I held tight, and I pulled back the screen and offered the worm to Matylda. Without hesitating, she came over and grabbed it.

I felt her teeth on my finger — they were tiny and pointy, and her bite caught me off guard. “OW!” I said, but there wasn’t any blood or anything; it was just the surprise of those little teeth we’d talked about in Mrs. Bueler’s class. They were very real. Matylda watched me, the worm hanging out both sides of her mouth one second and vanishing the next.

“Does it have flavor?” I asked.

She shook her head, confirming there was no flavor. It was all about the texture; she probably loved biting into that crackly shell. “It’s the shell, isn’t it?” I said. She nodded. I was glad she was talking back now, too, letting me know about the figs and the super, showing me when she was scared.

She let her tongue out quickly, twice in a row. Her water dish was full, so I knew she wasn’t thirsty. She was thanking me for the worm — I knew it.

The stealing girl was right.

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