Just My Joe. Joan Elliott Pickart

comes from a long line of champion macaws,” Polly said pleasantly. “He’s worth...”

      Don’t say it, Polly, Joe silently begged. Tell them you have no idea what the stupid bird is valued at.

      “...I’d say,” Polly said, “probably several thousands of dollars.”

      Oh, hell, Joe thought.

      Polly blinked in surprise as the students erupted in boos, whistles and thumbs-down gestures.

      What was going on? she thought frantically. The students had been listening to her; she knew they had. They’d been sincerely interested in what she had been saying. What had suddenly gone wrong?

      Joe stepped in front of the table and raised his hands.

      “Quiet down,” he shouted. “Knock it off. I understand where you’re coming from, but there’s no excuse for being rude.”

      Well, she was glad Joe understood where the now angry and obviously upset students were “coming from,” Polly thought, wrapping her hands around her elbows in a protective gesture. She didn’t have a clue.

      “You’re pushing me,” Joe hollered. “Knock...it... off.”

      Then Polly watched in wide-eyed horror as Jazzy waddled to the edge of the front of the table, ruffled his feathers, then proceeded to bite Joe Dillon on the right side of his oh-so-gorgeous tush!

      Two

      It was bedlam.

      Joe roared as the message of a sudden, sharp pain reached his brain, then he spun around, fury very evident on his face. Jazzy made a beeline for the cage and hustled inside. Polly quickly shut and locked the door.

      The students went wild; laughing, hooting, pointing at Joe in obvious delight at what had transpired. The pounding of feet on the bleachers began again and three cheers of hip, hip, hooray were executed in Jazzy’s honor.

      I want to go home, Polly thought frantically.

      Mark Jackson left his chair and came to the table.

      “I’ll take over,” he told Joe. “You’d better exit stage left with Ms. Chapman and the felon.” He grinned. “Do you need to see a doctor about your wound?”

      “No,” Joe said, his jaw tight. “I need to find a recipe for barbecued macaw.”

      “That’s not fair,” Polly said. “Jazzy was upset by the noise and acted out of character. He has never bitten anyone before. He was shook-up and your...your posterior was right in front of him and...”

      “Save it,” Joe said gruffly.

      He snatched up the cage, then came around the table to grip Polly’s upper arm.

      “We’re outta here,” he said.

      “Bye, Bird Lady,” a chorus of students sang out. “Bye, Jazzy.”

      Polly smiled and waggled the fingers of her free hand in farewell. In the next instant she was nearly lifted off her feet as Joe began to haul her toward the side entrance to the building. Mark Jackson stepped up to the microphone.

      “Okay, we’ve had some fun,” the principal said, “but it’s time to get serious. Quiet down. Our next speaker is...”

      Before Polly knew the identity of the next speaker, she was propelled outside, the door clanging shut behind her, Jazzy and Joe. Joe set the cage on the ground, then rubbed the area of his anatomy that had been attacked.

      “Damn it, that really hurt,” he said, glowering at Polly. “Not only that, but your stupid bird made me look like a fool in front of the students.”

      “It wasn’t Jazzy’s fault.” Polly poked her nose in the air and folded her arms beneath her breasts. “He was frightened. I mean, heavens, so was I. One minute I was giving my nifty little speech and the next thing I knew the students went berserk. What did I do wrong?”

      Joe sighed and picked up the cage.

      “Come on, Polly,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car. I purposely invited men to be the speakers today. I know there’s limited parking around the school, and it wasn’t my intention to have a woman wandering alone in this section of town.”

      Polly laughed. “No one would dare bother me. I have an attack bird for protection.” She glanced up at Joe’s stormy expression. “Sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood here. Look at the bright side, Joe. Jazzy could have clamped on to your...your person and refused to let go. Now that would have been very embarrassing.” She nodded decisively.

      “Your car, Polly?” Joe said, no hint of a smile on his face.

      Polly moved around him. “Okay, fine. It’s two blocks away.”

      Joe fell in step beside Polly as they left the school grounds. Jazzy was blessedly silent.

      “Well?” Polly asked finally, after they’d gone a half a block without speaking. “Are you going to tell me what giant mistake I made during my speech?”

      “You don’t have even the slightest clue, do you?” Joe glared at Polly, then shook his head. “You just don’t get it.”

      “Obviously not.”

      “Look, you started out just fine, really great, in fact. You hit those kids where they live with your story of having a dream, but realizing you didn’t have the financial resources to achieve it. You definitely had their interest and full attention.”

      “Hooray for me,” Polly said dryly. “It sure didn’t last long.”

      “You were stopped short of your goal, your dream,” Joe continued, “but found a way to be connected to the field you wanted to be in. Then? Hell, you blew it.”

      “What did I do?” Polly said, nearly yelling.

      “Jazzy’s owners are in Europe for six months? This stupid bird cost thousands of dollars? Come on, Polly, get real.”

      “What I said was true.”

      “And that’s the problem. Don’t you see?” Joe said, none too quietly. “In the eyes of those kids you sold out. You struggled, you settled for less than you originally dreamed of, then you ran, did not walk, into the world of the idle rich.”

      “That’s ridiculous,” Polly said. “The Dogwoods offered me a job and I took it. That’s what most people do when they need to pay the rent and buy food. What difference does it make where I’m employed to enable me to use the skills I worked so hard to obtain?”

      “It makes a very big difference, Ms. Chapman. You could be with an open veterinary clinic in a low-income neighborhood. Or the Humane Society. Or be the veterinary technician for one of those organizations that finds families for homeless animals.

      “But, oh, no, not you. You’re baby-sitting idiot birds that cost more than some of those kids’ parents make in six months. You copped out on your roots, on who you are, and those students knew it.”

      “Call the cops,” Jazzy said. “Call the cops.”

      Polly stopped walking, causing Joe to halt his step. She looked up at him, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

      “Wait just a minute here,” she said. “You agree with those kids, don’t you? You’re expressing your own views about me, as well as theirs. Right? Isn’t that right, Joe? You’re standing in judgment of me, just like those students did.”

      “Damn straight I am. You were in a position to give something back to the world you came from. Instead? You’re hobnobbing with the rich and famous, who go to Europe for six months and think spending thousands of dollars on a bird is chump change. Yeah, I agree with the students of Abraham Lincoln High School. You sold out, Polly Chapman.”

      “And you’re certifiably insane, Joe Dillon.”