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The group fell silent as they watched Lt. Washington open the big bag of peanuts and load the pail. He hoisted it high in the air. Then he took another bag, filled with dried corncobs, and clamped six cobs on to the spokes of the bike wheel before pulling on the rope and raising it twenty feet off the ground.

“I get to be red, Big Bob.” Razi had forgotten all about the squirrels and was taking fistfuls of checkers out of a box from the game cupboard.

“Let’s wait a few for the games,” Daddy said. “You never know. Lt. Washington spilled some peanuts as he loaded them, and he’s climbing back up the hill now.”

“I’ll play with you, Razi.” Zeke jumped up from his place by the window.

“Okay. It’s my turn.”

“Don’t we have to set up the game board first?”

“Wait a minute. I think I see one.” PFC Simon was so excited, she hopped up and down on her good foot and started to wobble.

“Careful!” Sarge almost tipped over trying to make sure PFC Simon didn’t hurt herself.

Wen came up behind Keisha and nudged her in a do-you-see-what-I-see way as Sarge took his time releasing PFC Simon’s shoulder.

“Oh darn! It’s just a paper lunch bag blowing up the hill.”

Lt. Washington came into the sunroom, still brushing burs off his coat. “We will definitely be figuring out a better access point,” he said, squinting into the late-afternoon sun. “PFC Simon, have you identified the target?”

“One lunch bag, sir, and not a squi— Hey, wait a minute … is that Larry? Awaiting positive identification. Sarge?”

Sarge pressed his forehead against the big glass window. “I can’t say if it’s Larry. I
can
identify it as a member in good standing of the Grand River squirrel community.”

The Wild 4-Evers, who’d been at ease eating Grandma’s homemade caramel corn, snapped to attention.

Suddenly he was on the platform. “Oh, he’s a big one,” Wen said. “I hope he doesn’t weigh more than—”

“Two pounds!” Zack and Zeke said together.

“There’s not much we can do now,” Zack said, pointing. “He’s getting ready to launch.”

“Cross your fingers just in case,” Zeke added. Both boys crossed their fingers behind their backs.

The squirrel sat up on his haunches. Was he sniffing the air?

“Ready, set …,” Marcus encouraged him. As if he knew he had an audience, the furry little guy bounded along the thin strip of wood and pounced on the pail. His back legs dangled in the air for a moment.

“Liftoff!” Razi called out. “To the moon!”

Later, as he was recounting it for Mama, who’d stayed home so Paulo could finish his nap, Razi described the first-ever Squirrel Circus performance in great “and then” detail. “
And then
he hung from the pail
and then
he dropped down onto the corncob wheel
and then
the other one bounced on the peanut butter pinecone bungee cord
and then …
”

Keisha didn’t mind listening to Razi’s play-by-play because Rocket was asleep on her lap and she was giving his velvety ears a good massage.

“They’re earning their treats, believe me,” Daddy said. “It was worth it to see the vets’ faces. Everyone was having a good time! Sarge pointed out to Lt. Washington what good role models squirrels were, trying over and over to achieve their goals. He suggested a video feed to the physio room, for when he needed encouragement to keep going with his hamstring curls.”

Paulo watched everyone’s enthusiasm with wide eyes, his thumb firmly stuck in his mouth. He was still waking up.

“I think I’ll take Paulo with me tomorrow instead of going to Story Time,” Mama said. “I’d like to see this for myself.”

“Well, Mr. Adorable might be competition for Larry and the gang.” Daddy reached over and ruffled Paulo’s hair.

Grandma bustled into the kitchen, pulling on her jacket. “Do Keisha and I have time before dinner to run out to Mt. Mercy and see how our squirrel-diversion plan is going?”

Mama checked the oven timer and nodded. She put some molasses cookies in a plastic bag to keep Keisha’s stomach company on the drive to the campus.

*  *  *

“I wanted a little private time with you,” Grandma told Keisha as they drove. “We need to have a Grandma-Granddaughter Talk.”

“With a capital T?” Keisha asked. When Grandma and Keisha had a capital T Talk, it was usually something interesting—like finding your bliss or how to make a six-minute chocolate cake so you could celebrate at the drop of a hat—what Grandma called the big kahunas in life. But any other kind of talk was usually more along the lines of a Grandma Professor lecture.

“Capital, italicized, double-underlined T,” Grandma said as she pulled into the main entrance at Mt. Mercy.

“Got it.” Keisha had never had one of those.

Grandma didn’t stop at the administration building this time. Instead, she drove around it, past the dormitories and into a sheltered woodsy area by the field house.

She turned off the truck and shifted to face Keisha. “You are growing into an amazing young lady: doing your schoolwork, working on your jumping, babysitting Paulo and helping with the family business.… I’m so proud of you.”

Grandma opened the truck door and stepped onto the snowy road. Keisha followed her along a paved trail that led into the woods.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were having enough fun.” Grandma reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out a bag of peanuts still in their shells. “But when I watched you practice your fun roping, I felt like you understood, on a very deep level, how work and fun can blend together to make … hmmmm … how can I say this? A delicious life. I hope you keep what you’ve learned through this experience close to your heart.” Grandma tore open the bag and counted out six peanuts. She handed them to Keisha.

“I’m not just talking about your nerves. I’m talking about dreaming up creative solutions to difficult problems. It was you who suggested Jim the Handyman was feeding the squirrels after noticing how happy he was when he talked about them.
You
who invented the Squirrel Circus. Others helped, yes, but you did the lion’s share of the work. And
you
who came up with the snowflake routine.

“Things don’t always work out the way we want them to—we have no idea what the judges will decide. But what happened to you in this process is so much bigger than lugging home a trophy.”

Keisha stared at the peanuts in her hand, letting all of Grandma’s words sink in. About Jim, she thought it might get lonely working by yourself all day in boiler rooms and up on roofs. And if it hadn’t been for her, all
those crazy pieces of wood would have ended up in a bonfire. As for the fun roping, Sarge had helped a lot.

Keisha leaned into her grandma. The sun was setting, and even though Grandma’s words made her feel warm inside, her outside was getting cold. “Where are we going? Is it much farther?”

“We’re almost there, sweetie. In fact …” Grandma looked around as if she was expecting someone. “We are here.”

“Where?”

“In the Mt. Mercy Natural Area.”

“So this is where people feed the squirrels now?”

Grandma nodded. “It’s not by any buildings, so if you’re afraid of squirrels—or allergic to peanuts—you never need to come here.”

“Has it helped keep the squirrels away from the administration building?”

“That’s what Mr. Fox called to tell us today. The newly formed Mt. Mercy Squirrel-Feeding Club started close to the administration building and, each day, fed the squirrels a little farther away until they got here. Mr. Fox said there will be only so many peanuts given out for feeding each day. That’s why I only gave you six.”

Keisha popped a peanut out of its shell. “Otherwise, they’d get a squirrel population explosion.”

“Right. But students and staff were bound to feed
the squirrels anyway. This way, with a club, they’ll be able to discourage it on other parts of the campus and at other times.… You’ll see what I mean in a minute. I want you to experience this by yourself, so turn around. I’m going to count to fifty and then call you. Start walking toward me and wave your peanuts.”

Grandma counted very loudly. When she reached fifty, Keisha turned around. It was easy to see Grandma’s puffy pink coat and color-coordinated hat and mittens about a quarter mile away. Keisha hopped from one foot to the other to warm up. She started to walk slowly toward Grandma, holding out her peanuts.

She hadn’t taken five steps before a squirrel rushed out to the side of the path and sat up on his haunches. He tilted his head as if to say:
Have you got something for me?

Keisha did as Grandma had instructed and held on to her peanuts. A few feet down the path, another squirrel joined the first one. Then another and another until it was a lineup of squirrels, sitting on their hind feet. Some waved their paws as if they wanted Keisha to throw the peanuts to them. Others chattered and flicked their bushy tails, but there was no doubt about it—Keisha and her peanuts were the main attraction.

Grandma walked back and met her halfway. “It’s a squirrel parade,” she said, holding out her arms in a
“ta-da!” “They’re giving you a standing ovation. Now take a bow for winning the title of this year’s Grand River Snowflake Jump Rope Queen from Langston Hughes Elementary.”

Keisha giggled. It was just like Grandma to create a squirrel parade in her honor. She held up a peanut. “Can I feed them now?”

“I promised we’d only use a dozen. I’ll take mine further down the way.”

As soon as Grandma disappeared around the bend, Keisha tossed one peanut. She felt like Mr. Drockmore as she looked around at all the fat, healthy squirrels
waving their paws as if to say,
Choose me! Choose me!

Mt. Mercy was a good place to live if you were a squirrel. So was the V.A. facility. In fact, so was just about anywhere in Grand River, Michigan.

Keisha chose another squirrel and tossed out a second peanut. There was a scramble for the nut before all the attention turned back to her. She kind of liked being the center of attention now. For the benefit of her audience, Keisha did a short impromptu performance. She skipped, she hopped, she crisscross-kicked the snow. And for her final trick, she did a scissors leap and tossed all the peanuts in the air. Then she bowed to her furry audience and said, “The end.”