The 12th Candle

by Kim Tomsic

  “I’ve never seen your hair down,” he says. “It’s pretty.”

  I smile at the ground.

  “Oh, and Peaches wanted me to tell you hello.” Justin gives me his awesome lopsided grin, and that fizzy apricot color I feel around him twirls across my collarbones.

  I put on a jokey formal tone and say, “Please give Peaches my regards.”

  Justin laughs. “Will do.”

  Gigi clinks her lemonade glass with a silver fork. “Everyone, please come into the living room.”

  We gather at the card tables, the plates full of spaghetti. Steamy garlic bread and dipping bowls full of spiced olive oil sit in the center. I grab my backpack from Gigi’s room and scoot it under my chair so I’m ready. I sit next to Bailee and Gigi, and Justin sits across from me. We eat and talk and laugh.

  Priscilla says, “All right, Flores Phenom. Give us your forecast, and make it good.” She’s trying to sound lighthearted, but I know she’s still hoping for pink lightning in case my plan doesn’t do the trick.

  The room quiets.

  Steven looks out the big living room window and up at the sky. He stretches out his arm and then brings his microphone-thumb under his lips. “This is the Flores Phenom, reporting to you live from Gigi’s Trattoria.”

  Gigi smiles. Her papa gives a big belly laugh.

  “Current weather conditions: muggy with a chance of rain or snow.”

  “Okay! That’s good,” I say.

  Gigi’s science club friends give me an odd look.

  “He’s making it up as he goes, right?” Shanie says. “I didn’t bring a coat or an umbrella.”

  “We’re staying hopeful,” Priscilla says, winking at me.

  The food is delicious. I use the thick, crusty bread to sop up the garlic-and-basil marinara sauce. When my plate is clean, I clink my water glass with a fork, just like Gigi had earlier. “Attention! Attention, people.”

  I have to do this a few times before the room hushes. I stand up and set my backpack on my chair.

  Gigi claps her hands. “Time for Sage’s special project announcement!”

  “That’s right,” I say. “As you all know, I’m personally not allowed to compete in the Noodler contest; however, I thought it would be fun if we created a group project.”

  I unzip my backpack and take out the notecard I’ve written on. “I’ve been thinking that family can mean more than just family at home. And since Mrs. Rimmels encourages us to look up words, I looked up the exact meaning of ‘family’ in the dictionary. Here’s what it says.” I look down at my notecard. “‘Family is a social unit consisting of one or more adults together with the children they care for.’”

  I reach into my backpack and remove my sketch of the school bus, the one I drew before my doodling abilities disappeared. “So far, I have Mr. Melvin in the driver’s seat and me and Bailee nine rows down on the right.”

  “Ohhhh,” Jada says.

  I nod at her. “We are a family.” I look from one friend to the next. “And I think it would be fun if everyone adds something to this sketch and we let Hudson finish it off—that is if you don’t mind, Hudson.”

  He bangs his fist on the table and the silverware clatters. “I’d love to!”

  It’s not going to break the curse, but like Gigi said, everything can’t be about me and my curse.

  Chapter 37

  At 3:30 p.m., Priscilla, Bailee, Justin, and I walk out of Gigi’s house into the first day of winter. The other kids have already caught a ride on the city bus.

  “Shortest day of the year,” Bailee whispers to me. “We have an hour and nineteen minutes until sunset.”

  Justin glances at his watch and gives me an odd look.

  I crack my knuckles. “Thanks.” The cool air reaches through my sweater and brushes my skin. I look to both ends of the street. Mrs. Petty is late, and my insides twist with worry that we won’t finish everything we need to do and make it to school by sundown.

  Fifteen minutes later, Mrs. Petty finally pulls up the drive.

  Priscilla takes the front seat, and Bailee, Justin, and I climb into the back. I’ve never been inside a car like this, with dozens of buttons and gadgets and a big computer screen on the dashboard. I scoot to the middle spot, and my leg touches Justin’s, sending a flutter to my heart.

  “Hi, kids,” Mrs. Petty says.

  “I love your car!” Justin says.

  “Thanks for driving us.” I buckle my seat belt.

  “You’re welcome.” Mrs. Petty presses a button to close the moonroof. “It’s getting chilly outside.”

  I nudge Bailee, giving her the cue. Even though we’re behind schedule, we need Mrs. Petty to stay in the driveway until we convince her to make a stop.

  “Oh,” Bailee says. “I forgot something in Gigi’s house. Would you mind waiting just a minute?”

  “No problem,” Mrs. Petty says in a friendly tone. Friendly like my momma used to be. Her blond hair is in a high ponytail and she seems relaxed, instead of in her usual uptight knot.

  “You look nice, Mrs. Petty,” I say.

  “Thank you.” She looks at her reflection in the rearview mirror and runs a hand over her cheek. “Seems I forgot my makeup today, but who has time for all that fuss?” She laughs. “Lately, I’ve been focused on more important things.” She rubs Priscilla’s back.

  Priscilla looks at me in the rearview mirror, and I nod the go-ahead.

  “Guess what, Mom?” Priscilla says, sort of loud and stiff. “Sage and I started a new school holiday.”

  “More than a school holiday,” I say. “We’re going to petition for a city holiday.”

  Justin glances between us. “Oh, right. Goldview Kindness Day. That’s dope.”

  “That sounds sweet,” Mrs. Petty says. “How did you two come up with that?”

  “Um,” I say, “well, as you must know, middle school can be a tough place, so we thought every solstice we should take a moment and build community through kindness.”

  “Solstice eve, right?” Justin says.

  “No,” Priscilla says nervously. “Goldview Kindness Day is actually today, on the solstice.”

  Justin scrunches his eyebrows, and I give him a just-go-with-it look.

  “What a lovely idea!” Mrs. Petty says. “What are you—”

  I interrupt. “Was middle school tough for you, Mrs. Petty?” My voice comes out squeaky.

  Mrs. Petty pauses on my question. A honey-golden leaf floats down to the car windshield. Maybe the last leaf of fall, the trees now bare. The sun inches lower, and my insides twist tighter. The clock on the dashboard reads 3:47.

  “Some parts were good and some parts were difficult.” She stares at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m sure you know all about me and your mother.”

  I nod. “I’ll bet you both wish you did things differently. I know my momma does.”

  Now it’s her turn to nod. She clicks on the windshield wipers and swishes the leaf away.

  I clear my throat, giving Priscilla the cue to take this to the next level. Justin stays quiet, smart enough to notice something is going down. It makes me like him even more.

  “Um, so what would you have done if you had a kindness day in middle school, Mom?” Priscilla sounds awkward.

  “Well, I probably would’ve found a way to be helpful, or maybe I would have sat with someone who was eating alone, or—”

  “Do you have anything specific you might have done?” I ask, wanting to speed this up. “You know, with my momma?”

  She looks in the mirror again like she’s trying to figure out what I’m up to.

  “I know my momma feels bad about all the Contrarium stuff. She wishes she never fixed herself up for the barn dance. To this day she feels terrible about your poison oak outbreak.”

  “She told you that?”

  “Mmmhmm,” I say with crossed fingers. “And I’ll bet there are things you wish you could undo.”

  “Well, sure.”

  “Like what?
” Priscilla and I say at the same time.

  “You two sure are curious.”

  “Like what, Momma . . . um, Mom,” Priscilla says.

  “Well, certainly the snake incident.”

  “Right!” I say a bit too brightly.

  “What is the snake incident?” Justin says.

  Mrs. Petty explains how her boa constrictor ate Momma’s guinea pig pup.

  Bailee steps out of Gigi’s front door and adjusts her glasses. I give her a head shake, and she goes back inside the house.

  “Here’s an idea.” My voice squeaks, making me wish I had some of Jada’s acting talent so I could sound like I had just thought of this. “You could always buy her a new guinea pig.”

  “Yeah!” Priscilla says.

  Justin looks like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. I realize I am still sitting right beside him even though there’s room for me to scoot over. I smile at him.

  Mrs. Petty laughs. “A grown woman doesn’t just buy another woman a guinea pig. Your mother would think I’m nuts.”

  I lean forward and grab the back of her seat. “My momma would love it.”

  “She would?” Mrs. Petty stops laughing.

  “Mm-hmm.” I nod fast. “It’d be a huge gesture. More than you think.”

  Justin says, “We have three guinea pig pups in the store right now.”

  I could hug him.

  “Oh, Mom, please say yes!” Priscilla says.

  “Are you asking me to do this right now? Today, on the way to the dance?”

  “Yes!” we say.

  “It might be better if I just pick one up tomorrow and deliver it over the weekend.”

  “Tomorrow is too late!” Priscilla and I say at the same time.

  Mrs. Petty gives each of us an odd look.

  “Um,” I add, “you could do it for Kindness Day.”

  “Well, if you think it would be okay,” she says slowly. “I’ve always felt tremendously guilty about all that.”

  She has? Even before the curse reversed? I wonder.

  “I know, Mom,” Priscilla says hopefully, and picks up her mother’s hand. She holds it, and there are tears in Priscilla’s eyes, because she knows if the curse lifts, there’s no guarantee her mom will be this kind moving forward.

  The door opens, and Bailee climbs into the car. “All set?”

  “Yep.” My plan is in action. I hope we make it before sunset.

  Chapter 38

  The guinea pig pup is adorable—little triangle ears, a button nose, and sweet brown eyes. It’s soft and cute and loveable. We take turns holding it, and it’s Bailee’s turn now. I lean over to scratch its head.

  Where is Momma? I wonder. Sunset is at 4:39 p.m. and it’s already 4:30. My stomach twists with loop-the-loops. The sun is slowly dipping behind the mountains.

  The school parking lot is covered in freshly fallen leaves, and we wait in the car because the weather has turned too cold to stand outside. What’s taking her so long?

  Mrs. Petty shifts in the front seat, darting looks around. “Are you sure your mother will like this?”

  “I’m one hundred percent positive.” I lift the pup from Bailee’s lap and hand it to Mrs. Petty. “Here, it’s your turn again.”

  Petting it calms her.

  Bright blue balloons hang from the school entrance and flutter when the breeze comes and goes.

  I look left and right out each window, the sky still mostly clear.

  “Are you sure she’s coming?” Priscilla says, her voice shaking. “Maybe we should drive to your apartment?”

  “She’ll be here. She’s driving Miss Tammy.”

  Minutes go by. The sun dips lower. The pup makes a chittering noise, and I nervous-laugh and pet its adorable red-brown head.

  Knock, knock! It’s Miss Tammy tapping on the window. “Hey, what are you guys doing out here? Isn’t the party inside?”

  I fling open the door and my friends follow me out of the car. “Miss Tammy?”

  “Hey, Spice.” Miss Tammy hugs her coat to her body and few drops of rain dot her face. She poofs open a tiny preschooler-sized umbrella decorated with little yellow ducks.

  “Don’t laugh,” she says. “I borrowed this from the café.”

  “Where’s—”

  The rain picks up. “Oh, goodness,” Miss Tammy says. “Come huddle with me, you guys.”

  We move closer to her tiny umbrella while I search the parking lot for Momma’s new car. The umbrella is no help and rain still dots our heads and backs. “Where did Momma park?”

  “She didn’t.”

  The engine from the city bus grumbles across the street. The sun is halfway down.

  “Oh no. You took the bus here?”

  “Sure did. It was raining much harder on our end of town, and your momma couldn’t figure out how to turn on the windshield wipers in that fancy new car of hers.”

  Priscilla’s blue eyes flood with worry. My heart drops. “What time is it, Justin?”

  He looks at his watch. “Four thirty-five.” Justin reads my face. “Is everything okay?”

  Bailee shakes her head. Only four minutes left!

  Mrs. Petty climbs out of the car, cradling the guinea pig against her chest. She joins our huddle. “This weather.” She looks to the clouds. “You all should hurry inside.”

  More drips patter down and then a few white snowflakes fall and stick to the pup’s little brown body.

  My heart aches. This was our last chance. Mine and Priscilla’s. To get our mommas in the same place at the same time. To end the curse. To save the next generation. To fix the Sassafras name. To help our daddies. To fix everything.

  “It’s four thirty-six,” Bailee says.

  I grab Priscilla’s hand. “I’m sorry.” The rain and snow fall harder and wet our backs, and the sun droops another inch. Our time is about up. Even if we raced across town at top speed, we’d never make it to my apartment before sunset. I squeeze Priscilla’s hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get my momma here.”

  “You did everything you could,” she says.

  The city bus rumbles away and up walks Momma.

  “Momma!”

  “I didn’t say she didn’t come,” Miss Tammy says. “I just said she couldn’t figure out her car.”

  Momma’s eyes meet mine, and I leave our huddle and throw myself at her in a hug.

  She laughs, her face dripping with rain. “This dance seemed important to you, Sage. Tammy reminded me you’re growing up and you may not give me many more invitations to chaperone, so I didn’t want to miss seeing you enjoy this solstice.”

  My heart fills with helium.

  Suddenly, Momma startles. “Oh!” She clears her throat and turns stiff and formal, facing Mrs. Petty. “Hello, Candice.”

  Priscilla places her arm around her mother’s waist and gently pulls her closer to Momma and me, softly saying, “Go ahead, Mom.”

  Mrs. Petty stares down at the pup in her hands. With a shaky voice she says, “Hi, Rosemary. I . . . I’m . . . sorry.” Her voice chokes, but she takes a breath, lifts her downcast eyes, and says, “I’m truly sorry for years of unkind remarks, sarcasm, and hurtful gossip. I’m sorry for jealousy and stupid competition. And mostly, I’m sorry I lost you as a friend.” She holds out the guinea pig pup. “Please forgive me.”

  Momma is statue-still. She doesn’t say anything. I loop my arm in hers and whisper the same words as Priscilla, “Go ahead, Momma.”

  Clouds, rain, snow, and the final golden ray of sunlight hover over us.

  Momma reaches forward, cupping her hands. Mrs. Petty passes the little pup to her, and when Momma and Mrs. Petty’s hands touch, their eyes meet, and they both smile. Momma draws the pup to her chest and kisses the top of its head. “Hello, Cinnamon.”

  A snowflake lands on Cinnamon’s tiny nose, and it’s so cute that Priscilla, Mrs. Petty, Momma, and I laugh and hug and we’re in a circle when the sky pops and turns watermelon pink and down comes a flash of pink lightning. It hi
ts the ground between us, and a powerful zap travels up my legs and zings through my fingertips. The four of us are still touching, hand to hand, hand to shoulder, arms linked. None of us let go until we know we all felt the same thing. And the sun disappears behind the mountains.

  Chapter 39

  Anyone interested in knowing it’s now four forty p.m.?” Justin says, rain dripping off his hair. “Or going for a swim?”

  We burst out laughing and crying, not from the zap or from fear, but from knowing we are going to be all right. I exchange a look with Momma and then with Priscilla. Momma’s and Mrs. Petty’s eyes meet and there’s more than a truce there: there’s the promise of forgiveness and a rekindled friendship. They smile and laugh again, and I know the curse is behind us.

  “Are you guys okay?” Bailee asks.

  “Yes,” I say.

  Momma hands Bailee the pup and squeezes my hands. “Are you really okay, honey? Are you injured anywhere?” Mrs. Petty fusses over Priscilla, too.

  “I’m good,” I say.

  “You’re not just saying that?” Momma cups my face in her hands and leans forward so we’re nose to nose. “I’m here for you, Sage.”

  “I know you are.”

  “No. I’m really here for you. And I’m going to do a better job of taking care of things—food on the table, gas in the car, all that.”

  I nod.

  “I know you don’t like to talk to me about what’s going on in your life, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to win your trust.”

  I drop my gaze, but Momma lifts my chin. She sees my unspoken words, so I say them out loud. “That means you can’t always freak out, and you have to stop ignoring the hard stuff.”

  “Deal,” she says. “I give you my word.” She pulls me in for a tight hug, and tears join the rain on my face.

  “Come along, everyone,” Miss Tammy says.

  We hurry inside to the school, soaked to the bone. Rain and snow plaster my hair to my face, and my sweater drips a trail of water.

  “Well, hello.” Mr. Melvin swings open the school door, greeting our sopping-wet crew. He’s dressed from head to toe in the nicest blue suit I’ve ever seen. “Come in, come in. You all must be freezing.”