Stay a Spell

by Nicholas O. Time

  Luckily, Mom is ahead of me on the stairs when she says, “You know, I remember hearing a story about your Aunt Katy. She nearly lost her internship at the movie studio once because of one misspelled word. And who knows what might have happened then. She may never have opened her own design studio!”

  If I had been sitting on the couch next to Mom when she said that, I would not have been able to hide my true feelings. Which are . . .

  WOOOOO-HOOOOOO! Aunt Katy has her own studio!

  I did it! I made one small change! I helped Aunt Katy’s biggest dream come true. Before my trip to the past she was just a buyer for a store. I bet she’s designing her very own clothes, not for actresses but for “girls who look like us.” Yes, yes, yes! Yay, Aunt Katy!

  I give a little fist pump to myself and then try to compose myself.

  “It’s funny how she and I both love fashion—and we both have trouble with spelling,” I tell my mom.

  “Yes, it might be a coincidence,” Mom says. “Or it could be DNA.”

  “Do you ever stop being a science teacher, Mom?” I laugh.

  “Sure,” Mom replies. “Why don’t you try spelling coincidence?”

  “C-O-W-I-N . . . ,” I start.

  “Let’s get back to that one.” Mom laughs. “How about DNA?”

  “Mom!” I yell, chasing after her as she runs up the stairs away from me, still laughing. “That’s just mean!”

  I can’t wait to tell Ms. Tremt the news about Aunt Katy (even though she probably already knows), so the next morning I head to school a little early, throw my books into my locker, and head straight for the library. I reach down and grab the door handle, but it won’t turn.

  Which is weird, because the library door is never locked. I put my ear to the door and hear rustling noises inside. My heart starts to pound. Has Tim Raveltere tracked Ms. Tremt back to Sands Middle School? Did we do something wrong? Is all of time going to be put in his evil hands because he’s stolen The Book of Memories?

  While I’m crouched down with my ear to the door, it suddenly swings open and I tumble to the ground. I look up and see Luis Ramirez and his friend Patrick McMann staring at me.

  “Were you looking for something?” Luis asks, trying to hide a smile.

  “Um, is Ms. Tremt around?” I ask awkwardly.

  “Yup, she’s in there,” Patrick says.

  I stand up and stare deeply into Luis’s eyes. I know I’m not allowed to talk to him about the whole time travel thing, but I figure that maybe I can kind of give him a look that says, Hey, I know where you’re coming from; I was just there too, and also, We have more in common than you think, dude.

  Luis just looks back at me blankly. He definitely did not receive that message.

  “Come on, Patrick. We’d better get going,” Luis says nervously. “See you later, Jada.”

  They start to walk away from me and I can hear them both crack up laughing. I mean, I’m sure it was funny when I fell on the floor and all, but it wasn’t that funny.

  Then Patrick puts his arm around Luis’s shoulder and says, “Dude, she seriously is in love with you. Did you see the way she was staring into your eyes?”

  OMG! I want to scream down the hallway at them, I am NOT in love with Luis. I am not in love with anyone! I just wanted him to know that I know what he knows and that I’m okay with him knowing that I know it too.

  But I don’t. Because that would look totally pathetic and probably not even make sense. I also want to shout, Hello, “she” is only two feet away from you. Maybe you should try whispering instead of blurting it out so she can hear every embarrassing word that you’re saying!

  I don’t say that either, though. I figure Abby will be able to straighten it out somehow. She lives down the street from Luis, and they’ve been friends since they were chasing after bubbles together as little kids.

  I walk into the library and see Ms. Tremt sitting at her desk. Her brow is furrowed and she looks nervous and worried as she rummages through a pile of books. I lean over to check out the titles. The Pirate Hunter. Treasure and Intrigue. Buccaneers Who Ravaged the Seas.

  “Is someone doing a history report on pirates?” I ask. “Or visiting one in person?”

  Ms. Tremt jumps in her seat. She didn’t even see me leaning over to read the book titles. Strange.

  “Jada!” Ms. Tremt says. “You’re in early. Did you need something?”

  “I needed to tell you about Aunt Katy,” I say. “I thought you stopped my chance to make one small change when you sent me to 1977 instead of last week’s spelling test. I thought that you wanted me to make the change for you. But you didn’t. At all. You knew there was a better choice.”

  “I wouldn’t say ‘knew,’ ” Ms. Tremt corrects me. “I just had a moment of inspiration, perhaps.”

  “Well, it was an inspired idea,” I tell her. “I found out last night that Aunt Katy’s lifelong dream has come true now. She has her own fashion studio. And that must have happened because she didn’t get fired when she was an intern in 1977. And she didn’t get fired because I helped her see the misspelled word on her paper! So you gave me the chance to give Aunt Katy the one thing she always wanted. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Jada Reese,” Ms. Tremt says. “And again, I will thank you for helping with my little, um, problem.”

  “Where is your little problem, anyway?” I ask.

  “I don’t know exactly,” Ms. Tremt says. “I’ve been receiving some signs, and they aren’t good, but I think I have a short-term plan for diverting Tim’s attention from Sands Middle School.”

  “Oh, does that mean you’ve chosen your next time travelers?” I ask.

  “I have an idea,” Ms. Tremt replies.

  “Of course you do, Ms. Tremt,” I say. “And if you need any help, you know who to call.”

  “Indeed I do, Jada,” Ms. Tremt says. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, I’d like to get back to working on my plans, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say. “But there are just a couple of other things I need.”

  “And they are . . . ?” Ms. Tremt asks.

  “May I please borrow How to Spell Your Way to the T-O-P?” I ask. “And any other spelling books you have? That would be great.”

  Ms. Tremt gets up, scurries around the shelves, and pulls a stack of books together. It’s actually impressive to watch. She didn’t have to go on the computer and look them up, or dig around at all. She knew exactly where to find them.

  “Here you go, Jada,” Ms. Tremt says as she drops the stack of spelling books into my arms. “Is that it?”

  “One more thing,” I say. “Could I also borrow the clothes that Daniel, Abby, and I wore back to 1977? Just for the weekend? I promise no one will know about where we went in them.”

  “I think that would be okay,” Ms. Tremt says.

  She unlocks the secret room, rummages around in the clothing box, and puts our outfits into a paper bag.

  “Have fun!” Ms. Tremt says. “And good luck with spelling!”

  “Thank you!” I call back to her. “For everything!”

  • • •

  The rest of the week Mom and I spend one hour together before bedtime going over the books Ms. Tremt gave me and reviewing spelling words for my next exam. I’m determined to get a good grade.

  On Friday my hard work is put to the test. I don’t feel as panicked as I usually do when Mr. Wiley starts to recite the list of words, but I don’t feel calm and cool either. It’s more a nervous butterflies-in-the-pit-of-my stomach kind of feeling. The feeling starts to go away when I recognize the first three words and spell them without having to second—and third—and fourth—guess myself.

  At the end of class, Mr. Wiley asks me to stay for a minute.

  “Jada, I usually wait until the weekend to grade the test,” Mr. Wiley says. “But you looked a lot more comfortable than usual taking this one, so I thought I’d check to see how you did.”

  “And . .
. ?” I ask, crossing my fingers and toes. Please, please, please, I think to myself.

  “See for yourself,” he says.

  Eighty-two! I jump up and down and hug the paper.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wiley,” I cheer. “It’s the first time I’ve gotten above a seventy on a spelling test this year!”

  “Yes, Jada, I grade your papers, so I already know that.” Mr. Wiley laughs. “I’m glad you figured out a way to solve the problem.”

  And Mr. Wiley’s right, I did. I was always trying to make spelling be like math and follow logical rules. And then I would get frustrated and confused. But once I got it through my head that spelling isn’t like math at all, and I just needed to study harder, I finally got it.

  Mr. Wiley smiles at me. “Have a good weekend, Jada,” he says.

  “You too!” I say. “And this weekend isn’t going to be good. It’s going to be GREAT!”

  • • •

  The weekend does start off on a good note. Mom is really proud of me when I tell her about my latest spelling test. I’m going to try for a ninety next time. She might even buy me a puppy then!

  On Saturday morning at 10:02 the doorbell rings and Abby and Daniel are waiting for me.

  “Did you three have plans today?” Dad asks as he flips some pancakes.

  “Mom said Aunt Katy was coming over,” I reply. “I thought it would be fun for us to hang out with her this afternoon.”

  “You did?” Dad says, blinking. “Is this for a school project? Do you need to interview a family member or something?”

  “Something like that,” I say. “Mom, is she coming?”

  “Of course.” Mom laughs. “It’s Saturday morning. Gran’s home soaking her beans and then mopping the floors, so Aunt Katy was stopping there first and then heading over here.

  “I’m sure she’ll be very happy to help,” Mom says. “And to see you.”

  Abby and Daniel follow me to my room, and I toss the brown paper bag onto my bed.

  “Do I really have to wear those clothes again?” Daniel complains.

  “You do,” I say. “I’m the boss, remember?”

  “I think it’s going to be fun,” Abby says. “And I downloaded all the songs, so we’re all ready.”

  Aunt Katy bursts through the front door and runs up the stairs to join us. With a smile she hands Mom a large pot.

  “Beans, from Mom,” she says.

  “Gee, thanks.” Mom laughs. “Can never have enough of those.”

  Aunt Katy doesn’t look superfly, but she is still super-stylish. White linen trousers, a navy fitted blazer, light gray button shirt casually unbuttoned at the bottom and top, and a smattering of gold jewelry.

  “Daniel, Abby, it’s nice to see you again,” Aunt Katy says. “Are you three working on a project?”

  The three of us look at each other and laugh.

  “Yes,” I say. “We’re always working on projects. And we wanted to show some of it to you.”

  I ask Mom if she would mind if we look around the attic.

  “It’s a mess up there, Jada,” Mom says. “What are you looking for?”

  I tell her that I’m working on some new fashion designs that are inspired by clothes from the 1970s.

  “You’re just like your aunt.” Mom smiles. “Always drawing and designing. Keep at it—look at how far she got!”

  Abby giggles.

  We all head upstairs, and Daniel helps Mom pull down the attic stairs. It is a mess up there, but a mess of memories, and it’s filled with good feelings. Mom’s graduation gown is hanging in one corner, Dad’s old basketball hoop is in another, and in between are boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff.

  “I don’t know where to start, Jada,” Mom says. “But if you want to dig around, go right ahead. Aunt Katy and I will be in the kitchen—with Gran’s beans.”

  Daniel opens a box and it’s filled with dolls. Abby opens another and finds Mom’s high school notebooks. We stop to page through them and it’s like looking at a side of Mom I never knew she had. I knew Mom was a good student, but it looks like she may have had a little trouble focusing at times. My mom’s name is Keisha and there are scribbles and doodles around every inch of her school notes. There are also a few interesting “Keisha Loves Matt,” “Keisha Loves Rodney,” “Keisha Loves Derek” notes. Interesting because my dad’s name is Marcus.

  We go through so many boxes and find so many things, but not one of them has what I’m looking for. I’m just about ready to give up and move on with the rest of the plan when Abby yells over from the other side of the attic.

  “Check it out!” she calls, holding up a big brown floppy suede hat. “I think I’ve struck gold!”

  Daniel and I rush over as Abby starts to pull pants and shirts from the box. They are all straight from the 70s, and totally cool. I put on the hat and a brown suede fringed vest I find in the box.

  “How do I look?” I ask as I pose.

  “Funky!” Daniel laughs.

  We dig to the bottom of that box, and then another, but still no luck. Aunt Katy and Mom come back up to see what all the commotion is about. They start to laugh when they see me wearing the suede hat and vest, and Abby in a dashiki and love beads.

  “I see you found what you’re looking for,” Mom says.

  “Actually, we didn’t,” I tell her. “I’m looking for something specific.”

  “What is it?” Aunt Katy asks.

  I pull out the envelope with Gran’s photo and show it to her. Aunt Katy smiles.

  “I’m looking for these,” I say, pointing to her silver boots.

  “You should have told me that, Jada.” Mom laughs. “Do you think I would have put those boots in just any old box? They’re special—awfully special!”

  “ ‘Awful’ being the key word.” Aunt Katy laughs.

  “Could I try them on?” I ask. “Just once.”

  “Sure,” Mom says.

  “Okay, let’s go back downstairs,” I suggest. “There’s something we want to show you.”

  Daniel and Abby help me put all the clothes back into the boxes and stack the boxes back up neatly.

  Back downstairs I hand Daniel his outfit all folded up.

  “You go into the bathroom and change,” I tell him. “Abby and I will wait here.”

  “We’ll meet you in the kitchen, Aunt Katy,” I call to her. “Just don’t lose those boots!”

  “Never!” Aunt Katy laughs back. “They’re my mother’s most prized possession—next to her children, of course. Although sometimes I think she loves the boots more!”

  Daniel heads into the bathroom to change.

  I hand Abby the polyester pants and smock top she wore to 1977. She takes the top but hands the pants back to me. Then she picks up the hat and the vest I was just wearing.

  “I’m going make some changes to that outfit,” she tells me. “If you don’t mind.”

  Abby pulls out a brown suede fringed skirt from the paper bag.

  “Found this in the attic,” she says. “Thought I’d save it for later. Do you think your mom will mind?”

  “She won’t,” I say. “Let’s see.”

  The smock top looks better with the skirt, vest, and hat than it did with the polyester pants.

  “Supercute!” I say. “I’m sorry Ms. Tremt didn’t have something like that in her box.”

  “Me too.” Abby laughs.

  When we’re finished getting dressed, we knock on the bathroom door. Daniel opens it and comes out, wearing his wide-leg corduroys and striped shirt.

  “Are you ready to boogie?” I ask him.

  “Now or never, Jada,” he replies.

  Mom and Aunt Katy are sitting on kitchen stools drinking coffee and chatting when we get to the kitchen.

  “Are you ready, ladies?” I call out. “Because we are here to party!”

  “Jada Reese, you are something,” Aunt Katy says, shaking her head. “Where did you get that dress? It definitely wasn’t up in the attic.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, I got this in school,” I tell her. “At a . . . um . . . a clothing drive.”

  Aunt Katy makes Abby, Daniel, and me twirl around so she can get a good look at us. Abby sets up her portable speaker on the kitchen counter and plugs it into her phone.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” she calls to me.

  “Can I try on the boots now?” I ask Mom.

  “Of course, honey,” she says. She hands me the boots. “I keep them in a special box in the back of my closet,” she says. “If you ever want them again, just ask me.”

  Mom hands the boots to me and I hold them like precious jewels. They look sharp, but they’re so soft and smooth. I can’t wait to zip them up and strut around the kitchen in them. There’s just one problem. . . . They don’t fit.

  “I’m like a stepsister!” I moan. “Why can’t I be Cinderella?”

  “You can’t be Cinderella because you got your father’s big feet.” Aunt Katy laughs. “Mine are much more ladylike.”

  Aunt Katy sits down and slips her foot into the left boot. It zips up easily.

  “See?” she says.

  “Oh, put them on!” I cry. “Please, for me?”

  “We brought music,” Abby says as she taps the phone screen.

  Thelma Houston begins to sing.

  “Hold that,” Aunt Katy says.

  “Yes,” Mom adds. “We’ll be right back.”

  Mom grabs the other silver boot and she heads into her bedroom with Aunt Katy. We hear them rattling through drawers and closets, and a few minutes later the sound of boot heels echoes through the hallway.

  And then my mother and her big sister walk into the kitchen looking like they just stepped onto the stage of Soul Train. Aunt Katy is wearing a superfly, floral-print maxi dress with her silver boots. Mom has on mustard-colored bell-bottoms with a shimmery gold shirt.

  “I can still bust a move, you know,” Aunt Katy says. “So what are you waiting for, girl?”

  Abby taps the phone screen and Thelma Houston begins to sing again.

  “No, no,” I call out. “Something else.”

  I walk over to Abby and whisper in her ear. She taps the screen a few more times and then lines up between Daniel and me. Aunt Katy looks at us, confused and amused.