suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

“We sing at home. At work, too. That’s why I love your pin,”
she says, pointing to the mockingjay that I’ve again forgotten
about.
“You have mockingjays?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. I have a few that are my special friends. We can
sing back and forth for hours. They carry messages for me,”
she says.
“What do you mean?” I say.
“I’m usually up highest, so I’m the first to see the flag that
signals quitting time. There’s a special little song I do,” says
Rue. She opens her mouth and sings a little four-note run in a
sweet, clear voice. “And the mockingjays spread it around the
orchard. That’s how everyone knows to knock off,” she continues.
“They can be dangerous though, if you get too near
their nests. But you can’t blame them for that.”
I unclasp the pin and hold it out to her. “Here, you take it. It
has more meaning for you than me.”
“Oh, no,” says Rue, closing my fingers back over the pin. “I
like to see it on you. That’s how I decided I could trust you.
Besides, I have this.” She pulls a necklace woven out of some
kind of grass from her shirt. On it, hangs a roughly carved
wooden star. Or maybe it’s a flower. “It’s a good luck charm.”
“Well, it’s worked so far,” I say, pinning the mockingjay
back on my shirt. “Maybe you should just stick with that.”
By lunch, we have a plan. By early afternoon, we are poised
to carry it out. I help Rue collect and place the wood for the
first two campfires, the third she’ll have time for on her own.
We decide to meet afterward at the site where we ate our first
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