by Wendy Mass
My heart skips a beat.
Angelina continues. “I gave Amanda an apple seed from Leo’s great-great-grandfather’s tree, and Leo one from Amanda’s great-great-grandfather’s tree. As long as you kept them close, they should have protected you.”
“But my plant is still growing fine,” Leo says. “They’re about a foot tall, right, Amanda?”
I don’t answer.
Leo waves his hand in front of my face. “Amanda? Tell her how good those plants are. Maybe all we need to do is water them or something and we can end this.”
I want to climb under the table and hide. “Um, well, mine isn’t doing so good right now.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Um, I sort of threw it out the window last year after our fight and it broke.”
Leo gapes at me. Angelina exhales loudly. “Interesting,” she says, tilting her head. “Very interesting. I should have considered that prospect.”
Leo groans and rests his head in his hands.
“I’m afraid now that adding the apple seed enchantment might have made things worse,” Angelina says. “Everything might hinge on that, and now, well, it seems we’re in a bit of a pickle.”
The three of us sit there like that for a while. Leo with his head in his hands, Angelina looking sad and regretful, and me picking at a piece of loose brown paint on the picnic table. I break the silence. “If it matters, the flowerpot could still be down there. No one ever goes into those bushes.”
Leo pops his head up and looks at Angelina hopefully. She shrugs. “It’s worth a try.” She stands up and heads back to the bus. We hurry after her. “Take your things,” she says, pointing to our backpacks. “We’ll meet again at five p.m., outside Amanda’s window.”
“What do we do until then?” Leo asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“Do what comes naturally,” she says, then starts the bus and pulls away.
I face Leo. “What does that mean?”
He shakes his head. “Maybe it means we shouldn’t worry about the enchantment, and just do what we’d normally do.”
“I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“Me neither,” he says as we run up the front steps. “And I’m not looking forward to walking into first period a half an hour late.”
But when we turn the doorknob to our history class, Ms. Gottlieb is still writing on the board. We’ve only missed a minute of class. With a confused glance at each other, we hurry to our seats just as she turns around. The class groans when they read the words, POP QUIZ.
Maybe Angelina isn’t so bad after all. That woman has some skills.
For the rest of the morning I think about her suggestion to do what comes naturally, and about how this whole experience has changed me. On my first eleventh birthday I still felt bad for the crying Bee Boy, but would I have gone so far as to draw up a periodic table for him? I doubt it. Even though I know now that it’s not going to help me break the enchantment, I get my hall pass at lunch and present him with his science project. This one wasn’t one of my better efforts since I only had a few minutes to do it, but he takes it anyway. After school I pass Leo coming out of the guidance office. But this time that kid Vinnie is with him, and they’re laughing! Whatever he did this time must have worked.
At the end of the hall I stop. In one direction is the gymnastics tryouts. In the other is the marching band auditions. I tell myself, Do what comes naturally. What would I have done if all this hadn’t happened? I make my choice.
Chapter Twenty-Three
As I push open the door to the auditorium, the swell of music fills my ears. I smile. If all of this hadn’t happened, I would be trying out for the gymnastics team right now. But it did happen. And that’s why I’m here.
I give the musical director, Mr. Paster, my name and he assigns me a number. I join the others waiting to audition. The candidates fill up the first three rows of seats. Mr. Paster introduces himself to those of us who are new and tells us the results will be posted on Monday. Monday seems like an impossible dream. Will I ever see a Monday again?
It takes a while to get to my turn, and I enjoy listening to the others play their instruments. When my name is called I stand up a bit unsteadily and take the drumsticks that the kid before me thrusts into my hands. I roll them between my fingers as I swing the strap of the snare drum over my neck. I’ve never played a drum that wasn’t attached to a set before, and doubt floods through me.
“Please begin,” Mr. Paster says.
I nervously straighten the sheet music that is attached to the drum by a little metal stand. Then I close my eyes and pretend I’m back in the basement of that music store, just me, Leo, and the Larrys. I hear the sharp snaps of the drumsticks as they land on the surface of the drum and my feet itch to move. I can see why this is the drum for marching. I refrain from marching across the stage, though, and instead open my eyes and focus on following along with the sheet music. When I finish the last bar I’m almost sad to stop.
“Thank you, Amanda,” Mr. Paster says, making a mark in his notebook. I reluctantly hand the sticks over to the next person. I glance at my watch. Stephanie’s mom should be here right about now. If I miss my ride home, I’m going to be late meeting Angelina and Leo. I run by the gym door just as Stephanie and Ruby emerge from it, sweaty and excited.
“Amanda!” Stephanie shouts when she sees me. “Where were you? You missed the tryouts!”
“No, I didn’t,” I reply. “I just tried out for the marching band instead.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You did?”
Ruby laughs. “Good choice!”
Stephanie steps in front of her to block her from me. “It’s not going to be as much fun being on the team without you.”
“So you made it?” I ask, trying to act as surprised as I can after doing this so many times.
She nods and can’t help the grin spreading across her face. Ruby pops up with, “I made it, too!”
“I knew you would,” I reply. “You’re really good.”
Ruby doesn’t answer right away, as though she’s waiting for the punch line. But I just smile. She gives me a tentative smile in return.
Stephanie’s mom drops me off with about ten minutes to spare. I tiptoe past Dad asleep on the couch, and leave my bag by the stairs so he’ll know I’m home if he wakes up before I’m back. I don’t want him to worry about not being able to find me ever again.
I slip out the back door as quietly as I can and run around to the side of the house. Angelina and Leo are already there. Leo is holding up two halves of my broken alarm clock. “Tough morning, eh?”
“Oops, let me take that,” I say, turning slightly red. Angelina is on her hands and knees, digging through the overgrowth. She’s not afraid to get dirty, that one.
“How were tryouts?” Leo asks as we wait for Angelina to resurface. “Make the team again?”
I shake my head. “But I might have made the marching band.”
He grins. “Good job!”
“Thanks. I mean, for getting me to play the other day, it really —”
“You’re welcome.”
“Got it!” Angelina crawls back out and holds up a big mound of dirt with a foot-tall plant sticking out of it. “This thing is hardy! It fell out of the pot when you threw it, but it took root in the soil. All we have to do is re-pot it and you two should be on your way to Saturday!”
“Will they ever grow apples?” Leo asks.
She shakes her head. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not an apple tree.”
“Does it have to be a real pot?” I ask, concerned that we don’t have one.
She shakes her head again. “As long as it’s big enough to support it.” She places the plant in my cupped hands. “Try not to throw anything else out the window, okay, dear?”
“So what happens now?” Leo asks.
“You celebrate your birthday, you make your toast, and we cross our fingers.”
“Will we see y
ou again?” I ask, trying not to let too much loose soil slip between my fingers.
“Probably,” she says, wiping the dirt off her hands with a handkerchief. “Can’t seem to get out of Willow Falls no matter how hard I try.”
Leo and I exchange puzzled looks. Without as much as a wave good-bye, she hurries off down the street.
“Wait!” Leo calls out. “What if it doesn’t work?”
But Angelina doesn’t turn back. For an old woman, she sure moves fast. We watch as she turns the corner, both of us silent. Holding my hands out in front of me, I slowly move toward the back door. Leo picks up the remains of my alarm clock and follows. “Should I come in?”
I nod and he follows me into the kitchen. “I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve been in your house. It looks exactly the same.”
“Shh, my dad’s sleeping. C’mon.” We take the stairs slowly, each creak threatening to wake him. When we get to my room, I motion with my head for Leo to pick up the wicker picnic basket that came with the Dorothy costume. “Guess this thing is coming in handy after all.” I gently lay the plant inside and pat down the dirt until it feels pretty firm. “Perfect fit.” I pick it up gently and move it to its perch on top of my bookcase, right where the old one used to be.
“I better get home,” Leo says. “Any minute Paul the Ball is going to arrive, demanding his dinner. His name isn’t even Paul, you know. I guess he just needed something that rhymed with ball.”
“Hey, why don’t we have our parties together from the beginning?” I suggest. “I can call everyone and tell them not to wear their costumes, and to go straight to your house instead.”
“Good idea! I’ll tell my mom. After you called this morning she said to tell you she’s really excited to see you!”
For some reason the idea of Leo’s mom thinking she hasn’t seen me in a year is suddenly the most hysterical thing I’ve ever heard. I start laughing uncontrollably. My side hurts but I can’t stop. Leo joins in and we don’t stop until my dad walks in, groggy and still wearing his bathrobe and pajamas.
“Hi, Mr. Ellerby!” Leo says, gasping for breath.
“Leo!” Dad exclaims, his eyes bugging out. “This isn’t the sight I expected to see when I woke up! I must have been asleep for a long time — when did you two make up?”
I try to stand straight, but my side still aches. “Just today, actually. You know how it is when you share a birthday. Can’t hold grudges, right? You don’t get any do-overs in life.”
“Most of the time,” Leo says, still giggling.
I start cracking up again and Dad shakes his head. “I’ll leave you two alone to, uh, keep working out your issues.”
Before he can close the door all the way, I call out, “Hey, Dad, you don’t need to get out your cowboy outfit, the party’s at Leo’s house now, okay?”
In response, he has a sneezing fit that only makes me and Leo laugh harder.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Between me and Mom we’re able to reach everyone who had RSVP’d that they were coming to my party. A few people sounded disappointed not to be wearing their costumes, but the mention of cotton candy machines and a hypnotist helped them get over it. The only place I had to leave a message was at Tracy and Emma’s house. They’ve loyally shown up at my party night after night, never leaving early. I feel bad that I haven’t spent much time with them lately. I’ll be sure to fix that.
Getting dressed for my party tonight is actually fun for a change. I get to wear whatever I want, and my feet won’t hurt. After I wash my face, Kylie comes into the bathroom and offers to straighten the back of my hair when she’s done with hers.
“No thanks, I have a thing about having scalding-hot objects too close to my head.”
“Are you sure? Your hair kinda poofs up in the back, and well, all over.”
“I’m sure.” I watch as she expertly makes her straight hair even straighter. Usually she’s a bit pale before my party. But this time her face is bright. “You’re in a good mood,” I note, drying my face with a hand towel. “Did something happen today?”
She smiles. “If you must know, I got a date for the dance.”
“But isn’t Dustin going with Alyssa?”
She waves her hand in the air. “Who cares? I’m going with Jonathan.”
“The LEGO kid?” I slap my hand over my mouth as soon as it comes out.
She lays down the curling iron on the counter. “LEGOs can be a very creative hobby. All the famous architects made their first buildings out of LEGOs.”
“Wow, I didn’t know that,” I say as sincerely as possible.
She nods. “Yup, it’s true.”
“That’s cool then, about Jonathan. He’s nice.” I quickly add, “But not too nice.” I once overheard Kylie and Jen talking about boys and they said that being too nice is worse than being a jerk, which doesn’t make any sense, but supposedly it will when I’m a teenager.
At a little before seven Kylie and I are climbing into the back of Mom’s car when Mrs. Becker pulls up to the curb. Tracy and Emma get out in their full-on Oompa-Loompa costumes. Green hair, orange skin, and everything.
“Uh-oh,” Kylie says. “You’re in trouble!”
I meet the twins halfway up the driveway. “Didn’t you get my message?”
They shake their heads. “Why aren’t you wearing your costume?” Emma asks.
I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Um, the party’s been moved to Leo’s house. I left a message a few hours ago….”
“Mom always forgets to check the voice mail,” Tracy groans.
“So what are we going to do?” asks Emma. “We can’t go like this.”
I consider the problem. It was one thing when a bunch of us showed up in costume yesterday, but it would be really weird if just two people did. My clothes would be too small for them, though.
“C’mon,” Kylie says, surprising me. “Let’s go up to my room. I’m sure we can find something.”
I smile gratefully and Kylie ushers them off. I take this time to fish my mom’s cell phone out of her pocketbook and hide it in the kitchen drawer. Fifteen minutes later they’re back outside, wearing Kylie’s clothes. Only a slight hint of orange remains on their skin. Their hair is still green, though.
“It wouldn’t wash out,” Emma says when she sees me looking at it.
“It looks very mod,” Mom says, getting into the driver’s seat. The four of us squeeze into the back while Dad gets in the passenger seat.
“Mod?” I repeat, sharing a smile with the twins.
“Goth? Emo? Punk? I don’t know what you kids call things these days.”
“You can just say it looks cool, Mom.”
“You know what looks cool?” she asks as she backs up into the street. “My Cruella de Vil costume that is currently hanging in my closet!”
I laugh. “Sorry. You can wear it around the house if it makes you feel better.”
“I just might.”
When we arrive, everything is just as it was last night, but this time we get to watch the hypnotist. He’s wearing the same light blue suit he wore at the car dealership, except now he added a top hat. Leo’s mom is motioning for everyone to sit on the dance floor in a semicircle around him. When she sees me and my parents, she runs over and shrieks. All three of us get swallowed up in her hug. “SO wonderful to see you all! Come, come, let’s watch the show. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later.” She ushers us over and sits me down next to Leo, who is happily munching on a snow cone.
The hypnotist’s voice booms across the yard, much deeper than I remember. “I’d like everyone to close their eyes and clasp their hands together on their laps.” I look pointedly at Leo’s snow cone, but he smiles and keeps crunching his ice. I shrug and turn my attention to the hypnotist.
“Press your hands together as tight as you can,” he commands. “I’m going to count down from ten to one and when I get to one, you won’t be able to unclasp them.”
The audience chuckles. He begins his countdown and when he gets to the end and tells us to open our hands, I expect mine to easily pull apart. But they don’t! I pull and pull, but they won’t come apart. My eyes fly open. Half the group’s hands are stuck, too. Murmurs of surprise fill the yard.
“All right,” he says, holding up his hands for order. “Close your eyes again. This time I’m going to count to three. When I get to three, you’ll be able to separate your hands.” He counts to three, and I pull. This time I’m able to do it. I open my eyes again, slightly freaked out.
“Now, everyone who couldn’t pull their hands apart I’d like you to come up on stage.”
So that was a test to see who was the most likely to be hypnotized! As kids make their way up, Leo puts his hand firmly on my arm and shakes his head. “Don’t go. The first night it was ME that clucked like a chicken!”
“No way!” When I stop laughing, I say, “Don’t worry, I’m not going up there. What if he hypnotized me into forgetting we need to make a toast tonight? Then I’d be responsible for messing this up AGAIN. No thanks!”
Leo stands and motions for me to follow. We sneak out of the show and go around to the side of the house where it’s quiet. “It wasn’t your fault before,” he says. “How were you supposed to know that plant wasn’t just a plant? My mom’s almost thrown that thing out twenty times. You know how she feels — living things are supposed to be outside.”
“So why do you still have it?”
He fiddles with what’s left of his melting snow cone. “Same reason you threw yours out the window when you were mad at me, I guess. It just reminded me of our friendship.”
To break the awkward moment, I suggest, “You should write a poem about all this.”
“Maybe I will,” he says, tossing his soggy paper cone into the nearby trash can. “C’mon, let’s go do our toast now while everyone’s out here.”
On the way through the yard, we pass two boys who I recognize from marching band auditions this afternoon. One played the cymbals and the other the French horn. When they see me, the cymbals player says, “Hey, you were really good today.”