“Don’t you need to ask your mom first?”
“I told you, my mom doesn’t care what I do,” she said in a haughty voice. “She won’t even be here.”
“Your mom lets you have a party without her there?”
“Duh,” Darcy said. “She’s too busy with her new boyfriend to notice if the house gets trashed.” She paused, then resumed her orders: “So work on it this week and bring it Saturday night. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said. I got it.
TWENTY
Do-Over Day Twenty-two
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
Martin probably wasn’t expecting a heavy conversation as he pulled weeds out of my grandmother’s garden the next Thursday afternoon, but when I brought him a glass of lemonade, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to ask.
Martin looked up, rubbing the back of his hand across his forehead and leaving a dirty smear.
“What?” he said.
“Ghosts. Do you believe in ghosts?”
Martin sat on the ground and drank his lemonade. I sat beside him.
“I’m not talking about spooks who wear white sheets and say ‘boo,’” I said. “Just…people. People who have died but find a way to connect with us.”
Martin shrugged. “Who knows what happens after we die? It’s the great unknown.”
I picked up a dandelion and tapped its tufts with my fingertip. “What if it’s not?” I asked.
Martin looked curious. “What do you mean?”
“Well…psychics say they can communicate with dead people.”
He laughed. “You’ve noticed that no psychic has ever won the lottery.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning psychics are scam artists.”
I swallowed hard, still unsure how far I intended to go. “Unless it really is possible to communicate with the dead.”
Martin shook his head, trying to follow. “What are you talking about?”
Suddenly, I felt like a volcano a century overdue for eruption. Could I trust Martin with this information? Something told me I could. “My mom’s dead,” I finally said. “An aneurysm. She died last year.”
Martin blushed, looking uncomfortable. “Right…,” he mumbled with downcast eyes.
“Martin, listen. She died last year, but I saw her a few weeks ago.”
Martin bit his bottom lip, trying somehow to piece this loopy conversation together. “Ummm…where? Like in a dream?”
I shook my head. “No. I was wide awake in my bed, and suddenly she was by my side. I could see her, touch her…I could smell her, Martin.” I sighed. “She smelled like lavender, just like when she was alive.”
I looked at him nervously. I was prepared for a do-over, but he nodded. “I’ve read that stress can make the mind play tricks on itself,” he responded evenly.
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t my imagination, Martin. My mom really came to me.” I paused, searching his eyes. “She said she’s always watching over me, but she’s usually blending in, like the stars and the moon blend into the sky during the day. But she got special permission to make an actual visit.” Suddenly, making him believe me seemed like the most important thing in the world. “Martin—my dead mother came to see me.”
“You’re joking with me…right?”
I slowly shook my head.
A flash of anger crossed his face. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“No,” I said earnestly. “I think you’re the smartest person I know, which is why I’m telling you. I thought you could help me understand it.”
“Understand what?” he said, still wary. “That your mom is a ghost? Or that you’re putting me on so you and your snob friends will have something to snicker about over lunch?”
I sighed. Was that what he thought of me? Of course it was.
Grandma’s words floated into my head: “Believe it or not, as wondrously brilliant and mature as you are, you’re still learning, too.”
I felt ashamed of myself. I had to make things right. I had to make Martin believe me.
“Martin, listen to me,” I said. “When Mom came to see me, I didn’t believe it, either. I woke up the next morning and thought it was a dream. Until…”
Martin still looked angry, but now he looked curious, too. “Until what?”
I tilted my chin upward, staring him squarely in the eyes. “Until I had proof.”
Martin’s eyes squinted. “Proof,” he repeated.
I nodded. “Proof. You see, before Mom went back to…I don’t know, heaven, or wherever…she left me with…with kind of a gift.”
“Like a set of Tupperware on your dresser?”
I shook my head impatiently. “No. A gift proving that maybe there are more dimensions in the world than we realize. Maybe things are happening around us that we can’t see or understand.”
Martin nodded. “You’re making fun of my interest in existentialism,” he concluded glumly.
“Your what? Martin, NO!” I yelled. “Quit second-guessing me and listen.”
He sighed. “I’m listening. What was your gift?”
A soft spring breeze blew across our faces. “The gift of time…the one thing I didn’t get enough of with my mom.” I leaned in closer to him. “She gave me the ability to turn back time.”
Martin massaged his temples with his fingertips. “You’re losing me, Elsa,” he said wearily.
“Stick with me. She made it possible for me to turn back time ten seconds…just long enough to rewind a stupid joke, or undo a slip on a banana peel.”
Martin was staring at me like I had grown an extra head. (Now, that I can’t pull off.)
“Did you notice all the weird, embarrassing things that happened to Darcy last week?” I continued.
A glimmer of recognition flashed in his eyes. “It did seem weird that she kept making a fool of herself. It was almost like some bizarre cosmic balancing act.”
“It was. Only I was pulling the strings. When I first had my do-over power…that’s what Mom calls it…I used it to try to make myself popular. Then I saw I could use it to make Darcy unpopular when I realized what a snobby fake she was.”
“By turning back time…,” he said slowly.
“Only ten seconds. And I won’t have this power forever. Just until my thirteenth birthday on May eleventh…ten days from now.”
The breeze blew a lock of hair into Martin’s eyes. He hastily brushed it aside. “Can I get back to my weeds now?”
I threw my hands up. How could I have expected him to believe this incredible story? Then a thought flashed into my mind.
“I’ll prove it.”
“Proof’s a good concept,” Martin said.
“Right. Just give me a second.”
I glanced around Grandma’s yard. There were some squirrels scampering around, and a butterfly or two flitting through the air, nothing out of the ordinary. Hmmmm….
Grandma opened the kitchen window and tossed some coffee grounds into the yard. “Makes good mulch, I hear,” she said.
Perfect. Thanks, Grandma.
I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”
Ten-second rewind.
“Martin, listen closely,” I said quickly. “Grandma’s about to open the kitchen window, throw coffee grounds into the yard and say, ‘Makes good mulch, I hear.’”
“What?” Martin said. “You really are certifiable.”
Grandma opened the kitchen window, tossed some coffee grounds out and said, “Makes good mulch, I hear.”
Martin looked stunned, then shook his head. “You planned that,” he said.
“I didn’t plan it, Martin. I lived it. I saw Grandma do that; then I rubbed this magic locket Mom gave me and said ‘Do-over’ and the world rewound ten seconds. That’s how I could tell you exactly what would happen.”
His weird expression said he wasn’t buying it.
Then I heard a crash next door. Our neighbor had been carrying her metal trash can and had accidentally dropped
it onto the patio. She quickly righted it, but it was another chance to convince Martin that I wasn’t nuts.
I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”
Ten-second rewind.
“Martin,” I said, “our neighbor is carrying her trash can to the patio. In about five seconds, she’s going to accidentally drop it and—”
Crash!
Martin jumped so abruptly that I burst into laughter. His jaw dropped as he gazed at me with widened eyes.
“Elsa…you’re freaking me out! How did you know?”
I laughed out loud. “I told you I was telling the truth.”
Martin held his head in his hands, trying to sort through what he’d just witnessed. “There has to be a logical explanation…,” he muttered.
“Does there? Why does everything have to be logical?” I asked.
Martin rolled his eyes. “Because there are certain rules about time, motion, physics…” He paused while he thought. “Your grandmother and neighbor could have been in on the joke.”
Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s a lot of trouble to go to for a joke,” I said reasonably. “And our timing would have to be impeccable.”
“Still, it makes more sense than…than rubbing a necklace and rewinding the world for ten seconds.”
Grandma’s cat, Snowball, scampered into the yard and plopped into my lap.
Martin inhaled and held a finger under his nose. “Ah…ah…ah-choo!”
Then he sneezed a second, third and fourth time.
Perfect.
I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”
Ten-second rewind. “Okay, Martin,” I said quickly, “Snowball is about to jump into my lap. You’re going to sneeze four times in a row.”
Before he could respond, out came Snowball, jumping into my lap. Martin looked like he was trying to resist the urge to sneeze, but he couldn’t do it. He sneezed once…twice…three times…four times.
“There,” I said, feeling satisfied. “I can’t plan your sneezes, can I?”
Martin tossed his head backward. “Unbelievable…,” he said. “Bogus. Totally bogus.” He was talking more to himself than to me. Then he peered at me curiously. “So you really set Darcy’s disasters in motion?”
“Guilty as charged.” I shrugged and stared at my hands. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Martin bounced with a sudden rush of excitement. “It was a brilliant idea!” he exclaimed. “And we still have another week to go!” He flung his hands into the air. “Do you realize what this means? We can make things right! We can change everything!”
I shook my head. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes,” I said, “but there’s one thing I’ve learned for sure: You really can’t change anyone except yourself.”
Where had I heard that before?
“What are you saying?” Martin said. “You’ve got this awesome power, and you’re not going to do anything with it?”
The spring breeze felt light and crisp against my skin. “The truth is, except for the fun of giving Darcy some payback, I’ve been less satisfied with my do-overs than with how things happened the first time around.”
“But your mom gave you this power for a reason,” Martin persisted.
“Exactly. I think I’m finally understanding what that reason was.” I smiled. “Look, Martin, if an asteroid suddenly crashes on your head, I won’t hesitate to rewind the world and push you out of the way. Otherwise, I think I’ll just live my life and trust that I’ll be able to handle whatever comes my way…the first time around.”
“But Darcy’s disasters,” he said, his voice full of disappointment. “They were classic. For those glorious few days, it seemed like life was balancing out a little bit.”
“Well,” I said, standing up and brushing the grass off my legs, “it just so happens that I have one more surprise in store for Darcy. But I don’t need my do-over power to pull it off.”
Martin looked intrigued. “What is it?”
“Darcy’s having a party at her house Saturday night. My best friend, Lani, is spending the weekend, so we’ll go together. Be at my house by seven and come with us.” I grinned, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. “You won’t regret it.”
TWENTY-ONE
What I’ve Learned in Seventh Grade
By Darcy Dixon
What I’ve learned in seventh grade is that nobody matters but me. You see, in the warped world of middle school, I have real power. I have beauty. I have charm. I couldn’t care less about other people’s feelings. This, I’ve learned, is the perfect combination for achieving popularity, and that’s all that matters to me.
True, popularity kind of fell into my lap…I didn’t ask to be beautiful, after all…but now that I realize its power, I’ll do anything to hold on to it. This often involves squashing other people’s feelings or making them feel so awful about themselves that they can’t possibly nudge me aside as the most popular girl in seventh grade. I trick people into thinking they are my friends, but I am far superior to them.
This takes energy, of course…energy that I could spend doing things that really matter, like finding ways to help others or actually studying for a test…maybe even completing a homework assignment without copying somebody else’s…but those things require effort. They require values. They require caring about the difference between right and wrong. They require me to have at least a single shred of interest in other people.
And I don’t. The only person I care about is me. I’ve learned that middle school actually rewards my value system. I love middle school because middle school loves me. It’s a complicated chain of love that only I understand. Some people think that middle school is about getting an education. Little do those crazy people know. It’s about being popular. It’s about me. And that, I’ve learned, is all that matters.
Do-Over Day Twenty-three
“Have you finished my essay yet?”
Darcy rushed to my locker the next morning as I grabbed my language arts book.
“Well?” she demanded. “Have you?”
I smiled sweetly. “Just putting a few finishing touches on it,” I said. “I want it to be perfect, after all.”
Darcy sighed with relief. “Good. It must be perfect, Elsa. That extra-credit grade is the only thing that will keep me from getting thrown off the cheerleading squad.” She gave me a serious look. “I’m counting on you.” She smiled, tilting her head to one side. “That’s what best friends are for…right?”
I smiled back. “Don’t worry; I’ll bring the essay to your party tomorrow night. You can read it there, just like we planned.”
She nodded.
“Oh, Darcy, you don’t mind if I bring a couple of friends with me, do you?”
She looked suspicious.
“Friends?”
“Yeah…just a couple.”
“Well…don’t bring any dweebs over.”
I crinkled my nose. “As if.”
Do-Over Day Twenty-four
Lani’s mom hadn’t even turned off the ignition before Lani jumped out of their car and onto Grandma’s driveway.
“Elsa!”
“Lani!”
We bounced up and down as we hugged. I hadn’t seen her since I’d moved more than a month before, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her. Lani. A real friend who really knew me and liked me just the way I was. I’d never appreciated that as much as I did right then.
She grabbed her overnight bag. As Grandma came outside to say hello and invite Lani’s mother in for a glass of iced tea, Lani and I dashed to my room. Giggling gleefully, we plopped onto the bed and gazed up at my plastic stars.
“Tell me everything,” Lani cooed. “What did you do to Darcy? And if you tell me you can’t tell me, I’ll scream.”
“I can’t tell you.”
Lani screamed, and I giggled.
“What is going on with you, Elsa? You used to tell me everything!”
“Well, my life has gotten a lot more complicate
d lately,” I explained, which was the ultimate understatement. “I can’t give you any details, but I’ve played a few tricks on Darcy. But you know what? As snotty as she is, the tricks weren’t nearly as fun as I thought they’d be.”
“No way!” Lani said. “I’d love to knock the Slice Girls down a peg or two if I got the chance.”
I shrugged. “I don’t like being mean.”
“But she was awful to you, right?” Lani persisted.
“Yeah….” I gave her a sideways glance and grinned. “Well, okay, I’ll admit: It was a little fun. But only a little. And…”
Lani leaned in closer.
“Actually…,” I said, sitting up, “I have one bit of unfinished business to take care of.”
“What?”
“You’ll find out tonight. We’re going to a party.”
TWENTY-TWO
Martin rang Grandma’s doorbell promptly at seven p.m.
Lani and I rushed to the door to let him in.
I was startled for a second when I opened the door. Martin looked different somehow…same glasses, same braces, but…I couldn’t put my finger on it. He held his head a little higher, his shoulders a little straighter. He had a new air of confidence about him.
“Hi, Martin,” I said, trying to conceal my surprise. “This is my friend Lani.”
“Hi,” he said, and Lani blushed. As my dad walked in and said hello, Lani pulled me aside. “This is the dweeb?” she whispered. “He’s, like, a total hottie!”
Well…I wouldn’t go that far.
“Okay, guys,” Dad said. “I guess I’m your chauffeur.”
“Oh, I don’t mind driving, Mr. Alden,” Lani teased, and Dad winked at her.
“Maybe some other time. But don’t worry; I’ll wear a bag over my head when I introduce myself to Darcy’s parents.”
Darcy’s parents? Uh-oh.
“Uh, Dad…,” I said nervously.
“Yeah, honey?”
“I don’t think Darcy’s parents will be there. She lives with her mom, and she’ll be out tonight.”
Dad shook his head. “Sorry, guys. You’re not going to an unchaperoned party. Does Darcy’s mother know about this party?”
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