Page 30 of For the Birds

Neely Kate pulled out her phone and opened up the video app. “We’re gonna record it with my phone for a more indielook.”

“Okay,” she said, her eyes glimmering with excitement.

“Where did you find the inspiration for your cover of ‘Umbrella’?” Neely Kate asked.

Anita launched into a long story about her boyfriend Floyd and a crazy drunken night involving an umbrella and edible massageoil.

I was going to have to take a shower when I gothome.

“Do you get inspiration from nature?” Neely Kate asked. “Parts of your performance seemed somewhat birdlike.”

Anita blinked, looking confused. “Uh . . . yeah . . .”

“It’s just that I heard Rihanna gets inspiration from her surroundings.” Neely Kate waved her hands in a big circle. “Her immediate surroundings.”

Anita nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

“Are there any birds around here that might have served as inspiration?”

Anita looked at her like she was crazy. I could relate. I decided to take things into my own hands. I pointed at the giant cage in Mr. Whipple’s backyard. “Oh! Is that an aviary?”

She spun around. “That’s where Mr. Whipple keeps his crazybird.”

“Crazy bird?” I asked.

“That bird cusses like nobody’s business. It’s flat-out weird. I can’t even go out in my backyard when that bird’s outside because it catcalls and insultsme.”

“Insultsyou?”

“It calls me a liberal hippie.” She shuddered. “I could get disowned forthat.”

“Wow,” Neely Kate said. “You must really hate that parrot.”

Anita put her hands on her hips, the umbrella jutting out to the side. “I don’t think I ever said it was a parrot.”

Uh-oh. “What else could be livin’ in a big cage like that?” I hedged. “And most birds don’ttalk.”

“Yeah. I guess.” She shrugged it off. “That old man loves that bird, and he’s a mess since it went missing.”

Neely Kate gasped. “What happened toit?”

“Someone broke into his house and stoleit.”

“Oh, my goodness!” Neely Kate gushed. “Do you have any idea who would takeit?”

Anita shook her head. “A lot of people in the neighborhood couldn’t stand that bird, but I don’t know anyone who would steal him.” She frowned. “I hope he’s okay. Mr. Whipple treats it like it’s his baby. I’m not sure how he’ll handle it if his parrot doesn’t comehome.”

“Do people like Mr. Whipple?” I pressed.

She looked surprised. “He has his cranky moments, but he’s usually a nice old man. I was raised in this house, so I remember him and his wife before she died. It’s just so sad he’s alone.”

“So he gets along with everyone?” I asked.

“Well . . . there is that oneguy.”

“Who?” Neely Kate asked.

“He lives down on the corner, but he doesn’t get along with anyone.”

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