Bat Summer by Sarah Withrow

work, did it? But Spallanzani couldn’t leave it at that. He goes and pokes our bateyes out and then sends us out into the night to see if we can find our way home. And we did find our way home and he still wasn’t happy. He murdered a bunch of us bats — ones with eyes, ones without eyes, didn’t matter to him. He murdered us and cut open our stomachs to see if the bats with eyes ate the same amount as the bats without eyes. And you know what he found?”
    I have a picture in my head of gutted, blinded bats and this guy, Spallanzani, leaning over them with blood on his hands.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNothing. The bats with eyes and the bats without eyes ate the same amount. He killed them for nothing. How could he do that? How could he poke their eyes out and cut their stomachs open? He shouldn’t have done that.”
    I see a drop fall on the book. At first I look up at the ceiling to see if there is a leak. Then I realize it’s Lucy crying. I put my arm around her shoulder.
    â€œWhat a Moran,” I say. She looks at me and gives a half-smile.
    â€œHe’s worse than a Moran. He’s a Spallanzani. Those owls in that dark room, they bumped into everything and he didn’t do anything to them. It’s not fair to be picked on because you’re smart like a bat.” Lucy tugs on the end of the bandanna on her head and wipes her eye with a corner of it. I take myshirt from around my waist and give it to her to cry into. I can still hear the rain rustling the bush outside.
    â€œYou want some spaghetti?” she asks.
    â€œI didn’t know bats ate spaghetti.”
    â€œThis bat does.” Lucy moves over to where the pot is. She puts it between us and lifts up the lid. There’s a whole pot full of spaghetti in there. She digs a fork out of her knapsack and hands it to me. I shouldn’t really eat her food.
    â€œWhy did you run away?” I know it’s a dangerous question. She might start clicking again.
    â€œI didn’t run away. I migrated. Bats migrate when it gets too cold where they are. That apartment was freezing. We can’t fly unless we’re at the right temperature.”
    It’s almost August. The whole city’s stinking hot. Last year, Tom and me tried to fry an egg on the sidewalk — and it almost worked.
    â€œIs that what you said in the note? That you were migrating?”
    â€œWhat are you so obsessed with that note for? It wasn’t about you. Everybody always thinks everything is about them. All I said was that I had to go away for a while until things warmed up. I couldn’t stand listening to everything freezing up like that.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, we did all that work cleaning the apartmentand nobody said anything. It’s like the whole place doesn’t even exist.”
    I think I know what she means. It’s like when I asked Mom about going to canoe camp with Tom and she said maybe, and then never mentioned it again. And now it’s summer and Tom is gone and I’m still here — all without anybody saying anything.
    At least I have Elys to take care of me. Nobody takes care of Lucy. Except maybe me.
    She’s not going to be able to live long on this spaghetti.
    â€œYou should come to my house,” I say. I take a forkful of spaghetti. I’m starving. If she comes home with me, I’ll make her some wieners and macaroni. “We’ve got an extra bedroom. I’m sure it’d be okay with my mom.”
    Her eyes fill with tears again. I wonder if bats cry. This one does. Too much.
    â€œI can’t. I can’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Lucy crosses over to the bed. She turns her back to me and unwraps the bandanna from around her head.
    My heart does something it’s never done before. It flops over four full times, like a fish fresh out of water.
    Lucy is bald. She’s shaved her head. And I can tellshe had a hard time doing it