No one was more surprised than Tabitha to hear herself asking her pesky brother to stay. There he was hesitating at the door as if he hadn't heard her right. Gregory didn't move. Years of tricks and unpleasant surprises had added caution to what he did. What was she up to this time? It wasn't until Tabby's hand showed the echo of what she had said, that the disbelief faded. "You want me to stay? All RIGHT!"With a strained smile, she nodded, yes, she really did mean what he had thought he'd heard. As he returned slowly to his spot on the edge of her bed, Tab was lost in thought. Gregory decided to be polite and wait until she was ready. He did not know how long his wait would be. Tabitha's confusion needed her full attention. Was this what Miss Longshanks called "conflict?" Only last week she had told the class that every good story needed conflict as well as action, and she had thought of her mother right away; she loved her mom but they had trouble getting along. Was the way she felt about Greggy conflict too? Not the way they usually acted together; she knew there was a lot of "conflict" all right, but what about now? She hardly knew what to think. It was like having two Tabithas arguing, the one she used to be and the one she was becoming. Miss Longshanks would praise that idea, but Tab didn't like it at all. It all was about Greggy. The new respect and thanks she had felt before supper did not match anything she had known before. She would have to ask about "inner conflict" in class tomorrow. Gregory had thoughts of his own, wondering when Tab would start. "Uh--" he started. The look on her face killed what he would have said. She looked ready to cry? Definitely! What terrible things was she afraid to tell him? The danger had shaken some of her old feelings loose. Miserable uncomfortable feelings, like when the tiny intruder had first come home from the hospital, it was "Baby" this and "Baby" that and Mom was always too busy to pay any attention to her princess anymore. She was always fussing over "Baby," walking with him in her arms when he was fussy, cooing over him as she changed his diapers, and the bathing--sure he was a doll all damp and sweet-smelling clean from his bath, and Mommy played "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy ate roast beef and this little piggy had none." The tears welled up in her eyes, because the verse was they way it really felt. She really had none. Meanwhile Gregory sat there watching the emotions as they played on her face. He said nothing, but feared what horrid things she might tell. How many times had she floated? Who saw her float? Was that why they taunted them both about Tabby Disease? And had she been punished at school? Was that why she looked ready to cry? With uncommon respect, he stayed quiet, waiting for her to speak. His eyes went to a large bluebottle fly that for some reason had ventured into the bedroom. Its wings buzzed a tenor tune, sounding harmlessly conversational as it wove memory trails into loosely circular patterns through the air. The fly did not exist for Tabitha. The lump in her stomach grew bigger as she fought the tears. After all she was not alone, was she? The source of all her disappointment and rejection sat there on the edge of HER bed, in HER room and she had asked him to stay. How stupid! It didn't strain her little pea-brain to see that she had always been jealous of her little brother. He was so CUTE. He had always been the cute one ever since they were small. Everyone had ooh'ed and aah'ed over him, while she just stood there like a lump. She had felt the same way being the tallest kid in kindergarten, taller than most grade threes who thought she was stupid. Funny but Greggy was even cuter now, while she felt only awkward and large. And he was so SMART! He could read long before he went to school. It just wasn't fair that he'd have everything. Gregory almost asked her if she was planning to ignore him all night. Should he get up and leave? Curiosity won. It must be awful, he figured, to keep her quiet so long. Then the large friendly fly landed lightly on his right hand, and Greggy was happy to welcome its visit. It stood there on its six legs, its wings folded back over the shiny blue-to-green iridescence of its abdomen, and gazed with its huge eyes directly at Gregory, as if to say, "Admire my splendour. Am I not the handsomest fly you ever saw?" Greggy smiled and let it be. He shifted into a more comfortable position, and watched the fly which had bent its legs and relaxed. And oh look! It lifted its front legs to its tongue, and then wrung them together. What a funny thing to do! Like washing its hands ...but not before dinner, Greggy smiled. Bluebottle flies don't bite. Then it began to wash its face! First one "arm" up and over its big compound eye, tilting its head to one side, and then the other eye...and back to rinse its hands with the proboscis, and start all over again! It had Greg's full attention as it performed its bath. Gregory was not waiting for anything anymore. What was happening was far too interesting.
