Everyone Has Their Own Blocks to Drag Around

　　His eyes widen. "That is so. Cool! You're so lucky. Letters just stand there all boring when I read. I hate reading. I'd rather do anything in the world than read."

　　"Really?" I ask, wishing that the letters would just stand still for me and wait to be read.

　　He gasps a little, as if he can't believe that I don't agree. "Uh, yeah? Are you kidding? Last summer, my mother kept giving me the choice of reading or washing her car. She had the cleanest car in the neighbourhood all summer."

　　I smiled because I really like Oliver. I've been thinking about myself so much, I never really noticed how funny he is.

　　And looking around the room, I remember thinking that my reading differences were like dragging a concrete block around every day, and how I felt sorry for myself. Now I realize that everyone has their own blocks to drag around. And they all feel heavy.

Fish in a Tree, P245
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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I've Become A Pachyderm

　　"Elephants do have good memories," he says. "But that isn't why I chose it as my symbolic name."

　　"Then why?" I ask.

　　"Well . . . I've become a pachyderm."

　　"Is that a religion?" I ask.

　　His face twitches a bit. "No. An elephant is a pachyderm. It means an animal with a thick skin."

　　I guess we're all pachyderms, then. Or we pretend to be.

　　His fingers picks at the side of his thumb. "Elephants feel a wide range of emotions, but their behavior reamains constant. On the outside, happy and sad often look the same."

　　I can't remember the last time I had nothing to say about something. All this time, I thought Albert was the science guy with as much feeling as a pinecone. But I was wrong. All that watching he does. All that thinking. He really does understand things. He definitely gets me.

Fish in a Tree, P235
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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That Makes Us Each Great

　　Suki raises her hand. "Grandfather says everyone is unique. Special. Unlike all others, that makes us each great."

　　"I like that, Suki!" Mr. Daniel says. "And you are indeed great!"

　　She remains seated but bows a bit. "Thank you, Sir."

　　Mr. Daniels bows back and then stands up straight. "In fact, you're all great, my fantastic Fantasticos!"

　　Albert raises his hand and Mr. Daniels nods toward him. "Excuse me, but just because something is unique, that doesn't mean it's good. After all, E.coli, a dangerous bacteria, is unlike all others."

　　"Point taken, Albert, but I do like that people are all different. What if we all looked the same, thought the same, had the same beliefs?"

　　"That sounds boring," Keisha says.

　　"Indeed it does," he says.

　　I think that I wouldn't mind being more like everyone else. But then I think . . . I wouldn't want to draw like everyone else. And I wouldn't want to act like Shay. Or Jessica.

Fish in a Tree, P220-221
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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To be Careful with Eggs and Words

　　"People ask what you want to be when you grow up. I know what kind of grown-up I want to be. But I don't know who I am now." Albert stretches his legs out. "There are always people ready to tell you who you are, like a nerd or a jerk or a wimp."

　　I think how it's hard not to believe the bad stuff.

　　"Look at it this way," Albert says. "If you had to be in a tank of water with a killer whale of a stonefish, which would you choose?"

　　"Well, duh Who is going to choose a killer whale?"

　　"Well, in the wild, killer whales never attack people. Like never. A stonefish is way more dangerous with its thirteen venomous spines. It's the words. If the killer whale were called the friendly whale, no one would be scared."

　　And I think of words. The power they have. How they can be waved around like a wand - sometimes for good, like how Mr. Daniels uses them. How he makes kids like me and Oliver feel better about ourselves. And how words can be used for bad. To hurt.

　　My grandpa used to say to be careful with eggs and words, because neither can be fixed. The older I get, the more I realize how smart my grandpa was.

Fish in a Tree, P183-184
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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If Nobody's Perfect

　　"You say" - Albert adds and then pauses to think - "that you'll grow up to be nobody. But logically . . . if nobody's perfect . . . well then, you must be perfect."

　　"Perfect? Me? Uh . . . no," I say.

　　"You are pretty perfect, Ally," Keisha says, laughing. "Do like Mr. Daniels says. Be yourself. Be who you are."

　　"You know," Albert says, "I've wondered about that saying. And I can't ever find an answer anywhere on the Internet."

　　"What do you mean?" I ask.

　　"'Be yourself.' You always hear that."

　　"So?" Keisha asks.

　　"Well," Albert begins, "what if you don't know who you are?"

　　I get what he means, I think.

Fish in a Tree, P183
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Sometimes They Just Can't Say Everything

　　I walk over to the garbage and drop it in. Watch it twist and spin as it falls. I look up and lock eyes with him and wish I had the words to tell him how grateful I am for his helping me. In this world of words, sometimes they just can't say everything.

Fish in a Tree, P176
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Everyone is Smart in Different Ways

　　Mr. Daniels looks up at that bright blue sky and says, "Now, don't be so hard on yourself, okay?" You know, a wise person once said, 'Everyone is smart in different ways. But if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life thinking that it's stupid.'"

　　I think hard about that. Could it be that simple?

　　A mind movie flickers in my brain of an angry fish at the bottom of a tree, banging on the trunk with its fins and complaining that it can't climb it.

　　I think of a turtle making sandwich.

　　A snake playing the violin.

　　An elephant knitting.

　　Penguins playing basketball.

　　An eagle scuba diving.

　　... ...

Fish in a Tree, P158-159
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Feeling Like Can't Reach Anything Anymore

　　Out of the room and out of the museum. A woman calls to me, but I keep going. Out the door and around the back. Across the lawn of a beautiful light green house. I find a swing set, which reminds me of my grandpa, and how we spent hours on them at the park. I try to think about what he'd say now and am sad that it's hard for me to remember his voice exactly.

　　My hands slide down the chains as I sit on the seat, thinking of when I was little. When my world wasn't such a heavy place. I used to love to swing as high as I could - leaning back, reaching for a bright blue sky with my feet - and it made me feel like I could do anything. Reach anything.

　　I lean my cheek against the cool chain, feeling like can't reach anything anymore. Then tears come.

Fish in a Tree, P155
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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The First American Spellers and Dictionaries

　　A lady talks about visionary Noah Webster was to create the first American spellers and dictionaries. Before that, people used to just make up spellings - there were no right or wrong ways to spell.

　　Some visionary. This spelling stuff is all his fault, since he's the one who got it in his head that we needed to spell the same way.

　　I'm thinking Noah Webster was a scoundrel and they should have put him in jail for this.

　　The lady tells us it took him twenty years to write the dictionary, and he also wrote the first schoolbooks and grammar books. I think he must have been tipped off rocker, as my grandpa used to say.

Fish in a Tree, P153-154
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Wish Givers

　　I put my arms out like a tree and one, then two land on my arm. I love them. I never knew before how much I love butterflies.

　　I think about the story Albert told in social studies when we were studying Native Americans. He said that they believed butterflies were special creatures and wish givers. And that if you can catch a butterfly, whisper your deepest wish to it, and then set it free, it will carry your wish to the spirits, who will grant it.

　　... ...

Fish in a Tree, P117
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Ice Cream on Ellis Island

　　"I don't believe in violence. And anyway, it seems to me that big kids would get the blame in a fight. No one's going to think a big kid like me didn't start it, so they would assume I give the punches, not receive them."

　　He stares at his vanilla ice cream and then looks up. Maybe a little happier. "This reminds me of ice cream on Ellis Island."

　　"You may have a skull full of brains, but, again, Albert . . . no sense," Keisha says.

　　"When the immigrants came to America through Ellis Island, they would sometimes get ice cream for a treat. But they didn't recognize ice cream. They thought it was butter, so they spread it on toast."

　　We laugh.

　　... ...

Fish in a Tree, P103
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Below That Person

　　Keisha whips around fast. "Why dou you always try to pull people down?" she asks.

　　"Because some people deserve it, that's why," Shay answers.

　　"Deserve to be pulled down? Really?" Keisha asks.

　　Albert straightens his ties, which is the only part of his outfit that fits. He's even wearing his sneakers with the backs cut out. "You know," he says, "logically, if a person was to pull another down, it would mean that he or she is already below that person."

Fish in a Tree, P71
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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I Don't Take My Appearance Lightly

　　"Albert," Shay says, leaning forward a bit, "you go right ahead and ignore what you look like. But it's the rest of us who suffer; we have to look at you."

　　"Actually," he says, "I don't take my appearance lightly. I take you lightly."

　　And with that he turns and is gone before she can pull out some other mean thing. And I wish I was like Albert. Seeing him shuffle away in those sneakers makes me want to be better. I'm not perfect, but at least I'm not mean.

Fish in a Tree, P63
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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You Can't Measure the Stuff that Makes Us Man

　　"So you agree that possibilities aren't endless?"

　　"Well, I agree from a mathematical standpoint, Albert, but not from a human one. I believe that the things we put numbers on are not necessarily the things that count the most. You can't measure the stuff that makes us man. Like Keisha's creativity or how hard she'll work." Mr Daniels shrugs. "Just my opinion."

　　"Well, it seems that the part that can be measured is most important," Albert says. "Because that's what can be proven."

　　"Well, my fine young fellow, I think we'll have to agree to disagree," Mr Daniels says, walking by Albert and patting his shoulder.

Fish in a Tree, P48
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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I Wish She Could Understand My World

　　"By the way, I don't want to hear you say that people hate you," she calls out. "How could anyone on earth possibly hate you?"

　　I wish she could understand my world. But it would be like trying to explain to a whale what it's like to live in the forest.

Fish in a Tree, P29
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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You Say That, But I'm Not

　　"Oh, Ally . . . you're to smart for this. School is too important to joke about. I don't you working long hours on your feet for a bunch of tips like me. I want more for you. And you're so smart. Good at math. A gifted artist. Don't you think it's time to stop clowning around?"

　　"I'm not smart. You say that, but I'm not."

　　"Now, we know that isn't true. You could stand to work a little harder, though."

　　I'm so tired of this conversation. We've had it a hundred times, even though my third-grade teacher told her that I might just be slow, that my mum shouldn't expect too much of me. My mom's eyes got all wide and shinny when she heard that, and I felt sad and embarrassed for her having to be my mom.

　　But my mother's never bought what the teacher said. I sometimes wish she would, but most of the times I'm grateful that she hasn't.

Fish in a Tree, P27-28
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Like A Tree Holds Leaves

　　Then she pulls over the napkin with the dinosaurs holding coffee cups. "What's this?"

　　"Just an idea I have for the Sketchbook of Impossible Things."

　　She stares at it. "Aw, your grandpa knew you were talented, and he'd so proud of how hard you're working on your art. And he would love that you named your sketchbook after Alice in Wonderland. He had such fun sharing that book with you." She looks up at me. "Just like he shared it with me when I was young."

　　Alice in Wonderland - a book about living in a world where nothing makes sense made perfect sense to me.

　　"I miss Grandpa," I say. Three words that hold sadness like a tree holds leaves.

　　"Me too, sweetheart."

　　……

Fish in a Tree, P18-19
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Don't You Think the Dead Person Deserves A Card More Than Anyone?

　　I look up. "I swear it. I didn't know it was a sym . . . a sym . . . a card for dead people."

　　"It's a sympathy card," she says. "And it's for people that miss the person that has died. Not for the dead."

　　"Well, don't you think the dead person deserves a card more than anyone?"

　　And she laughs. She leans her elbow on the counter and lifts her other arm to put her hand on my face. It's warm and I'm so relieved that she isn't that mad at me. "You're funny. You know that?"

Fish in a Tree, P18
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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Even I'm Tired of me

　　"As of Monday, your new teacher will be Mr. Daniels. Let's try to avoid any negative consequences, okay?"

　　I think about how me avoiding consequences would be like the rain avoiding the sky.

　　She waves me out, and as I stand, I look at that poster again. I wish I knew what it was I should learn, because I know that I should know a lot more than I do.

　　She sighs as I leave her office and I know she's tired of me.

　　Even I'm tired of me.

Fish in a Tree, P14-15
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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I Wish I Could Put My Mouth in There, too

　　Once we're out in the hallway, I can tell by Mrs. Silver's face that it's going to be another one of those times when I'll have to say I'm sorry of explain why I've done something. The thing is, I have no idea why I'm even in trouble this time.

　　I stuff my hands in my pockets to keep them from doing something I'll regret. I wish I could put my mouth in there, too.

Fish in a Tree, P8
Lynda Mullaly Hunt
ISBN 978-0-399-16259-6

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