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Kate had two great loves: school and the enormous oak tree in her backyard. She could name every branch like a street. The third branch left was Elm Avenue. The wobbly one near the top was Windy Road. Today, Kate had a plan. A Very Serious Plan.
“I am going to build a reading fort,” she announced to no one. She had a checklist, written in her neatest handwriting. Item one: one plank of wood. Item two: twelve library books, sorted by height. Item three: absolutely zero mess. She underlined that last part twice.
Her neighbour Priya leaned over the fence. “Whatcha doing?” “Building a fort,” said Kate. “Can I help?” Kate looked at her checklist. Then at Priya. Priya was already holding a pot of glitter glue. Kate's eye twitched. “...Fine,” said Kate. “But no glitter.”
They hauled the plank up to Elm Avenue. It fit perfectly. Kate smiled her most satisfied smile — the one she saved for full marks on spelling tests. “Now the books,” she said. She reached for the stack. The plank tilted. Just a little.
WHOMP. Every single book landed in the mud below. Twelve books. Sorted by height. Now sorted by mud level instead. Kate stared down at them. “That,” said Priya cheerfully, “was extremely loud.” “I noticed,” said Kate through her teeth.
Kate made a new rule: no books on the plank. She would use her backpack as a shelf instead. Genius. Foolproof. Completely, absolutely fine. She hung the backpack on a branch. The branch was Windy Road. She had forgotten why it was called that.
A breeze arrived. A very enthusiastic breeze. The backpack swung. It bumped the bucket they'd left on the branch below. The bucket tipped. It was full of acorns they'd collected earlier — one hundred and seven, Priya had counted. Kate had not asked her to count.
One hundred and seven acorns rained down on the garden. Bounce. Bounce bounce bounce. They rolled under the fence, into next door's roses, across the path, and — somehow — into the kitchen through the open window. “Was that hail?” called Kate's mum from inside.
“FINE,” said Kate, loudly, to the tree. “No bucket. No backpack. No books. We will just SIT in the fort.” She climbed back up. She sat. It was quiet. It was tidy. It was perfect. Then Priya said: “I might have used the glitter glue a little.”
The plank sparkled. Kate's red headband sparkled. Kate's left shoe sparkled. Kate herself sparkled like a disco ball that had lost an argument. She opened her mouth. No words came out. Priya smiled helpfully. “It's very festive,” she offered.
Kate sat very still. She thought: this is a disaster. She thought: my checklist is ruined. She thought: I have glitter in my eyebrow. Then she noticed something. Children from three gardens over were staring. One of them pointed and said, “Whoa. Is that a GLITTER FORT?”
“Yes,” said Priya immediately. “Yes it is. Want to see?” Kate looked at Priya. She looked at the sparkling, acorn-scattered, slightly lopsided fort. “There is a correct way to climb up,” Kate called down, in her most teacherly voice. “I will explain it. Take notes if you like.”
Five children climbed the oak tree. Kate gave them all branch names. Elm Avenue. Windy Road. The Shortcut. She had not invented The Shortcut before today, but she invented it now, which was, she decided, basically the same as school. The muddy books came up too.
Someone found one hundred and seven acorns and lined them along the plank like tiny soldiers. The fort was loud and crowded and absolutely covered in glitter and very perfect in a way Kate's checklist had never imagined. “This is a mess,” Kate said happily.
“You said no mess,” Priya reminded her. Kate looked at the glittery, acorn-lined, book-crammed, full-of-friends fort. She pulled out her checklist and wrote a brand new item four. She underlined it twice. Item four said: mess (the good kind). Then she taught everyone the branch names again.
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