The Cloud Who Couldn't Keep a Secret

How it begins

Cumulus Belle was excellent at shade and terrible at secrets. She could keep the village cool all afternoon, but the moment someone whispered beneath her, the words began gathering into rain.

On Monday, a surprise birthday cake fell into the square before anyone had baked it. Not the cake itself. The secret, written in small wet letters across a puddle.

On Tuesday, everyone learned that the mayor slept with a stuffed turnip.

By Wednesday, the animals had begun carrying umbrellas even when the sky was blue.

Cumulus floated over Finn Pond's garden, trying not to hear anything. This was difficult for a cloud. Sounds traveled upward, and she had nowhere higher to put them.

'I wish I could stop,' she said.

Finn set down his watering can. He grew plants that needed different amounts of rain and had learned that more was not always kinder.

'What happens just before the words fall?'

'They get heavy.'

'All words?'

'Not all. Worries most of all.'

A small drop landed beside his boot. It said SCARED OF THE DEEP END. Finn recognized the handwriting of a friend, though nobody had written it. He covered the puddle with a leaf.

'That one wasn't ours to share,' he said.

Cumulus drew herself smaller. 'I know.'

Finn waited until she looked at him again.

'Knowing doesn't mean you have to carry it alone. We can ask the person what help would feel safe.'

The cloud considered this. She had thought her choices were keeping everything inside until she burst or letting it fall wherever the wind took her. She had never imagined choosing one listener.

Across the garden, a frog called her name. It wanted to tell someone something.

Cumulus looked at Finn, then at the leaf over the hidden words.

'Before you begin,' she called, 'would you like company, help, or just a little shade?'