Tilda left Spider and headed to her back garden. She stared at the new blue pot next to her hosta. Then she walked to the toolshed, but instead of picking up the shovel, she grabbed her clippers. She cut the most perfect leaf from her hosta, went inside, and dropped it into Snail’s terrarium.
Tilda joined Spider outside again. Dewey was at Daniel’s mailbox and would be heading Tilda and Spider’s way next.
“Oh!” groaned Spider. “Not him again! My web takes such a shaking every time he opens and shuts this box. I must leave before the quake. See you in a bit.” Then he spun a thread and lowered himself to the ground.
“Toodle-oo!” Tilda said.
Dewey drove up to Tilda’s box.
“Hello, Dewey. Do you have plans tomorrow afternoon?”
Dewey cleared his throat. “Nothing important except feeding my cat.”
“How would you like to go to a play with me?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE PLAN
SATURDAY MORNING, Daniel’s mom was in the backyard, planting flowers. Earlier she’d actually hummed while she was making his waffles. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d hummed or made waffles. It had never happened on While-a-Way Lane. Daniel felt that knot in his belly again, knowing that he was keeping the play a secret. Then he reminded himself, he was going to invite her.
While his mom threw some sugar and flour into a mixing bowl, he left the kitchen and slipped the invitation under her pillow. Just as he’d predicted, her bed was made. She wouldn’t discover it until tonight.
At breakfast, his mom asked him questions about school. She wanted to know everything.
Daniel told her everything except about the play.
The morning dragged, and he watched the clock, wondering if his dad’s plane had landed yet.
He wasn’t even hungry when it was time for lunch, but he didn’t want his mom to be suspicious, so he ate half of his sandwich and all of his potato chips.
Soon after, Daniel grabbed his costume sack and the box with his boat and sneaked out of the house. Then he opened the door and yelled, “I’m going out to ride my bike. See you later!”
He closed the door before she could say anything. Nothing could ruin his plan.
The two squirrels were out there scampering around in his yard, digging. With all the excitement of the day, he had forgotten to throw out some nuts for them. He didn’t have time to do it now, though. Squirrels hid food all the time, so he hoped they’d find some without him.
Daniel tucked the sack inside his backpack and balanced the box in the middle of the handlebars. Then he pushed off with his right foot, heading toward school, one hand on the box and the other steering the bike. The handlebars wobbled. He wished he’d practiced. Halfway down the street, he thought maybe he should have walked. He was just trying to get away, unnoticed, as quickly as possible. Now he was worried about what his mom would think when he didn’t come back for a few hours.
Right before the corner, Daniel slowed his pace and made the turn a little too sharply. The box fell. The boat tumbled out. He slammed on his brakes, lost his balance, and fell next to the boat. The mast and sail had broken off. His eyes stung, and he bit his lip to keep from crying. He lifted the pieces. The boat looked like a bat wing, dangling from his hand.
Laughter came from up the street. At first he thought they were laughing at him, but he discovered it was coming from the Ferris wheel. Stupid Ferris wheel!
A car slowed beside him, and someone rolled down the back window.
It was Annie. Her curls were pinned close to her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Daniel jumped to his feet and brushed his hands off on his jeans. His face burned.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Daniel snapped. Wasn’t it obvious?
“Hey, is that the boat you were talking about?”
“It’s broke,” Daniel said.
“I’m sorry.”
And Daniel could tell she really was.
“Maybe it can be fixed. See you at school.”
She rolled up the window, waved, and her dad drove away.
It’s all ruined, he thought, but then he remembered how his dad once fixed a broken toaster. He’d opened it up and put the toaster back together again. This wouldn’t be as hard to repair as a toaster. After the play, they’d stop at a store and get some glue to fix it. Then they’d head to the pond.
Daniel decided not to chance another break. He hid his bike and boat in some bushes in front of the library and walked the rest of the way to school.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TILDA’S PLANS
TILDA HAD HER OWN PLANS for the day. They did not include going to the Falling Star Valley Garden Show or winning first place with her hosta. And that was fine by her. There was always next year. Besides, she probably wouldn’t like riding in a parade anyway.
Her plans for this day were simple.
1. Bathe Fred
2. Choose a hat to wear with her best dress
3. Wait for Dewey to pick them up for the play
4. Applaud loudly when Daniel came onstage
Do you know what it is like to bathe a big dog that doesn’t like water dripping into his eyes? Tilda knew and that is why she did it in the backyard. Out there, Fred could shake off the water to his heart’s content.
While Tilda gathered Fred’s shampoo and the huge metal tub, she thought about Daniel. She hoped the play was a sign that he was starting to feel at home on While-a-Way Lane. She grabbed the hose—at least she thought it was the hose.
“Excussse me, dear friend. Can’t I sssunbathe without being jarred awake?”
“Isadora!”
“Of courssse it’sss me. Who did you think it wasss?”
Tilda didn’t say a word. She was afraid Isadora might be offended by being compared to a hose.
“What isss Fred getting all fancied up for?” Isadora asked.
“Daniel is in a play today.”
“Oh yesss, I remember.”
“You knew, too?”
“I am a sssnake.”
Tilda realized that even though she might have been able to speak to almost every little creature on While-a-Way Lane, she still had a lot to learn about them.
* * *
AN HOUR OR SO LATER, Tilda was dressed in her red hat and polka-dotted dress. Fred had on his checked neckerchief. She only hoped Fred would not bark at Dewey. While they waited for him, Fred plopped on the grass and Tilda sat next to him, leaned in, and listened.
When Dewey drove up, it was as if he had never left that moment so long ago when he first saw young Tilda sitting on the grass and staring at the blades. This time he asked, “What are you doing?”
She was startled at being caught, but Tilda answered him with honesty. “Listening for ants.”
After Dewey helped Tilda up, Fred stood on his hind legs, rested his front paws on Dewey’s shoulders, and licked his face, neck, and arms. He was making his way to Dewey’s belly when Tilda smelled Woof Woof Wafers, as if Dewey had dusted himself in them from his head to his toes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE PERFORMANCE
DANIEL PEEKED THROUGH the curtains. The play would begin in thirty minutes, and people had started to arrive, mostly parents. But his dad wasn’t there yet.
A man came backstage carrying two bouquets of roses. They were from the parents of the girls playing Mrs. Darling and Wendy. Daniel checked through the curtains again. He looked at every seat. Except for Annie’s dad, he didn’t recognize one person in the audience. Where was his dad?
“Lost Boy #8, come away from the curtains.”
Daniel let go. Each time she called him that, it reminded Daniel how he didn’t have a real part in the play. He didn’t even get to use his slingshot. He had to carry a silly bow with no arrow.
Another delivery worker came backstage with a box. “Daniel Peppergood!”
Daniel’s heart pounded.
“That’s me!”
“Package for you.” The delivery worker handed over the box.
Daniel opened it, and there inside under the tissue paper was another boat, a red one just like the blue one his dad had given him. How did his dad already know about the broken one? His dad had to be the smartest man in the world. He sifted through the tissue paper as if expecting to find his dad there. But the only other things inside were the boat’s remote control and a note.
Daniel read it silently.
Dear Daniel,
I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today. The French deal had a glitch, and I had to stay longer to fix it. I’m sending this boat to you because when I get back, I promise we’ll sail the boats together. Now that we have two, we can race them. You’re my best pal, Champ.
Love, Dad
PS Break a leg!
The other cast members gathered around him when they noticed the boat.
“Cool,” said Peter Pan.
“Awesome!” said the twins at the very same time.
But Annie, who was holding Nana’s head, looked at Daniel as if she knew how he really felt.
Daniel stared at the boat.
“Wow,” said Mr. Darling. “I wish I had a boat like that.”
“Here,” said Daniel, “you can have this one.”
“Really?”
“No, Mr. Darling,” said Mrs. Garcia. “You can’t have Lost Boy #8’s gift. Now, if everyone would gather together for the cast circle.”
Daniel hated this part where they stood in a circle holding hands. And he especially hated it today. He didn’t feel like being in the play anymore. He would have felt that way right now even if he’d gotten the part of Curly.
While everyone made a huge circle and held hands, Daniel looked up at the black ceiling. Thick cords and lights crisscrossed above their heads. Maybe he could climb up there and escape. No one would miss him.
Something moved quickly across one of the cables. It was brown. Another brown thing scampered behind it. Daniel squinted his eyes, trying to see closer. Were those the squirrels that visited him every morning? One of the squirrels flicked his tail. Yes, they were his friends!
Then he saw a tiny light. And another. Yet another. The fireflies! It was the middle of the day, and here they were. His friends had come to see him in the play.
Mrs. Garcia was still yakking about what a great cast they were and how proud she was of them.
“Hello,” Daniel mouthed to the squirrels and fireflies.
The squirrels flicked their tails. The fireflies twinkled against the dark ceiling.
Mrs. Garcia clapped her hands. “Okay. Everyone get in your places. Nana’s Head, come away from the curtain.”
Annie stepped back and turned around. “Your four-legged friend is out there,” she told Daniel.
“Huh?” Daniel said, but then he realized she could be talking about Fred. Despite Mrs. Garcia’s warnings, Daniel dashed over and peeked through the crack between the curtains.
It was Fred. He was sitting in his own seat next to Tilda Butter and Dewey Wonder. And next to them, at the end of the row, was someone he knew very well.
His mother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
GIFTS
EVEN IF YOU have never been hugged by fireflies, you may have been lucky enough to have a mother. A mother like Daniel’s mom. A mother who has a gift of knowing things instinctively. Oh, your mother may tell you she knows things because she has eyes in the back of her head, but she is only joking. Her gift has nothing to do with eyes.
It has everything to do with heart.
* * *
BEFORE DANIEL CHANGED out of his costume backstage, his mom caught him in the hallway.
“You were the best lost boy I’ve ever seen in Peter Pan.”
“I was?” He hadn’t even done the jump. Not because he was scared and not because he didn’t think it was a great idea, but because once the curtains went up, it had seemed enough to be Lost Boy #8.
“I made a cake for you. We’ll have some later at home. I thought we’d have Tilda and Dewey over. Fred, too, of course. Do you want to invite any of your friends?”
Daniel looked over at Annie, whose father was giving her a big hug. He knew exactly which friend he’d invite.
Before his mom left, he asked, “How did you know? About the play?”
“Oh, a little squirrel told me,” she said and winked.
* * *
OUTSIDE THE SCHOOL, families waited for the cast. Daniel took a big breath and made his way through the sea of dads, moms, and grandparents. “Bravo, Daniel!” a familiar voice called out.
He swung around. His mother had not left yet. She was standing and clapping with Tilda Butter and Dewey Wonder.
“Bravo!” Tilda Butter said again.
“I just knew you’d jump off the crates,” Dewey Wonder told him. “I was so surprised when you didn’t.”
“That would have been a good idea,” Daniel said.
“A good idea for a broken bone,” said Tilda.
“I spoke to your friend’s dad,” his mom said. “They’re going to join us for cake.”
Fred was wagging his tail. Then he opened his mouth as if he was about to bark and said, “Ribs! Ribs! Ribs!”
“See?” Tilda Butter said. “Fred thinks you did great, too.”
Daniel couldn’t believe it. Fred was talking to him.
“Ribs! Ribs!”
“Okay, Fred,” Tilda Butter said. “That’s enough! Stop barking.”
“Did you hear what he said?” Daniel’s heart pounded. He’d never known a dog who could talk.
“Ribs!” Fred said. Then he added a growl.
“I’ll bet he wants you to take him for a walk,” Tilda said. “Would you like a summer job doing that?”
Daniel nodded.
“We’ll see you at your house,” Dewey told him.
He watched the four of them walk away, wondering if his mind had played a trick on him. Then he remembered something. He turned back around and ran into the school to get his new boat.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ON WHILE-A-WAY LANE
IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY you might see a lizard peering down from a branch above, a spider busy rebuilding his web after a storm, or fireflies twinkling against the night sky. And if you listen closely you might hear the song of chickadees returning in spring, a saxophone tune drifting from a neighbor’s window, or even a teeny-tiny snail nibbling on a lettuce leaf. The art of noticing is the gift we all own.
* * *
IT WAS THE FIRST DAY of summer break and Daniel had an entire Ferris wheel seat to himself. He looked around at his world, swinging his feet back and forth.
“I can see my house and the stand,” said Annie, who sat on the seat behind his.
Daniel could see all of While-a-Way Lane. Each time his seat met the sky, he searched for something new. He could spot Dewey Wonder’s jeep making the stops at each mailbox.
Tilda Butter was in her yard pruning roses, while Fred barked at Dewey Wonder’s cat, Stamps, who had climbed to an upper branch of the magnolia tree.
There was Daniel’s bike, lying on the front lawn. He’d forgotten to put it up last evening. Just then his mom came outside and raised the bike upright. Instead of guiding it to the garage by the handlebars, she hopped on and took a spin in the driveway. She even went a little fast.
The next time his Ferris wheel seat was at the highest point, he noticed the pond where he’d sailed the boat with his mom the day after the play. They’d had a really good time, laughing when the boat ran into a stump in the middle of the pond. The next week he’d sailed the boat with his dad. They’d seen each other every weekend since then.
Annie and Daniel had been riding for twenty minutes, but the Ferris wheel on Wit’s End stopped only when you wanted it to. Maybe they would ride all day.
Just then, Daniel heard music coming from his street.
“Look,” Annie said.
He tw
isted around and discovered she was pointing at the piano teacher’s house. Agatha Brown was perched on her windowsill, playing a saxophone solo. He kind of liked the bouncy tune.
“She looks happy,” Daniel said.
“Yeah,” said Annie, “she does.”
It was funny, he thought, how today he noticed things from far away that he hadn’t paid much attention to close up. Like how maybe Fred only barked at Dewey Wonder because he smelled like his cat, and how spending time with his mom could be as fun as with his dad.
Even little things became clearer looking closer from this high up. Until now, he’d never realized there was actually a white house on While-a-Way Lane. How had he missed that?
Daniel remembered climbing to the top of the tree at his old house, each branch taking him to a new adventure. Up here, at the top of the Ferris wheel, he felt like he did then. Like the Champ.
When the wheel lowered, he took a giant breath. The air smelled of cotton candy. To Daniel, it was the best-smelling air in the whole wide world.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SOME WONDERFUL PEOPLE read part or all of this story and offered advice, support, or encouragement. Please know I am grateful for every bit of your input.
Thank you:
Christy Ottaviano, Shannon Holt, Alison Cheney, Amy Berkower, Brenda Willis, Ray Willis, Jessica Anderson, Jennifer Archer, Charlotte Goebel, Jane Shuffer, Martha Moore, Jeanette Ingold, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Lola Schaefer, and Kathi Appelt.
Other novels by KIMBERLY WILLIS HOLT
MY LOUISIANA SKY
WHEN ZACHARY BEAVER CAME TO TOWN
DEAR HANK WILLIAMS
The Lost Boy's Gift Page 9