Blue grinned. “That’s her. And the two of us . . . we’re working on my fate.”
Eve had been getting a knife to cut up the Coca-Cola ham. She slammed the drawer with her backside and raised both eyebrows at Blue.
His dad’s voice was suddenly uncomfortable. “I never asked you to—”
“No, it’s good,” said Blue. “By the time you get all of the racing stuff figured out, I’ll be—”
“Is your granny listening in?” his dad demanded.
“She’s cutting up a ham.”
“I told you not to mention the racing to her!” he said, voice rising. “When I dropped you off, wasn’t that one of the things I told you?”
He had. Blue had forgotten.
“I . . . sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“No!” said Blue. He grabbed the old phone’s spiraling cord as if it could hold his dad on the line. “Not yet. I needed to tell you—”
“Let me talk to her!”
“What are you so mad about?” Blue crushed the phone’s cord in his hand. His eyes stung, but he wouldn’t let them do more than that. Not in front of Tumble and his grandmother. “Why does it matter if Granny Eve knows?”
“Blue,” his dad said. “I’m telling you I want to talk to your granny right now.”
Blue breathed fast. He tried to understand why his dad was angry. It was such a little mistake.
“Granny Eve.”
His grandmother was chopping the ham with a fury that implied the pig had done something to offend her. Tumble was watching them both wide-eyed, her glass of tea halfway to her mouth.
Blue swallowed to steady his voice. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
His grandmother plunged the knife into the ham, and stomped over.
“You didn’t do a thing wrong, Blue,” she said in a crisp voice as she took the phone. “This is just an old pot that’s finally decided to boil over.”
Then into the phone, she said, “Alan, after what happened last time . . . how could you—?”
Her lips narrowed.
“Well, maybe you don’t have to explain yourself to me. And you obviously won’t explain yourself to your own boy.” She drew in a long breath that pulled her shoulders back and made her chest swell. “So why don’t you try talking to your own darn self.”
She slapped the phone back onto the wall.
Blue took a step back.
Eve was glaring at the phone as if daring it to ring.
Tumble set her glass on the table. “Hey!” she said in a strained voice. “Hey, Blue! Let’s go upstairs. I’ve just had the best idea about that carving up there!”
■ ■ ■
Tumble hadn’t had any kind of an idea about the carving, but she would make something up when they reached the attic. She talked as fast as she could all the way upstairs, hoping to distract Blue from whatever had gone wrong. She had been able to hear Blue’s dad shouting at him, though not well enough to understand what he was saying. And his grandmother . . .
Tumble had never seen her that mad. Not even when the relatives spilled green paint down the grand staircase. Not even when someone threw a croquet mallet through one of the windows.
So Tumble was rambling on and on about Maximal Star. And she was thinking how unfair it was that someone like Maximal couldn’t be born with a powerful gift and someone like Blue’s dad could, when the answer they’d been looking for all this time hit her like a croquet mallet to the head.
She actually tripped. If Blue hadn’t grabbed the back of her T-shirt, she would have smashed her face into the attic steps.
“Are you okay?”
He sounded deflated to Tumble. And defeated. Defeat was the most dangerous emotion during a crisis, and Tumble didn’t have time for it.
She shook him off and dashed up the last few stairs, excitement making her floaty. She spun around when she reached the top, and looked down at him with her arms spread wide. “Blue, I’ve got it! Opposites!”
“What?”
“The Montgomery fates . . . some of them are opposites.”
He blinked up at her.
“Your dad wins,” Tumble said impatiently. “You lose.”
“I know.” Blue’s shoulders slumped.
“Blue!” She flapped her arms at him. “Don’t you get it? What would happen if you and your dad were a team?”
TWENTY-THREE
FLAT AS A FLITTER
Opposite fates. It was an idea so perfect Blue couldn’t believe he’d never thought of it before. What would happen if a winner and a loser worked together?
Unfortunately, with his dad out of reach, Tumble and Blue needed a different pair of opposites to test their theory. That was why they volunteered to help the twins buy groceries the next afternoon.
On the way into town, they shared the backseat of the twins’ car with Howard, who’d come along after swearing he would commit murder if he had to pretend to get along with the other Montgomerys for one more minute.
“Have you been pretending?” Ida asked as Jenna turned the car onto Main Street. “Wow. You’re really bad at it.”
“They’re a bunch of backstabbing buzzards. Do you know someone’s drawn a countdown on the shower curtain in one of the second-floor bathrooms? I tried to wash it off, but it’s in permanent marker.”
“Another moon calendar?” asked Blue.
“No!” Howard spat the word. “It’s a countdown to when Ma Myrtle dies. I’m mad at her, but that’s disgusting. What if she sees it? What if Granny Eve sees it!”
He kicked the back of Ida’s seat.
“Howard!”
“Most of these people don’t even know her. Or us! They’ve never bothered to talk to us before in their lives. Their grandparents ran away from Murky Branch generations ago.”
“And they’re trashing our house,” Jenna said grimly.
Ida sighed. “What do you two want to do about it? We’re already spying on them and plotting against them. Are we supposed to poison the groceries, too?”
She was joking, but Howard and Jenna didn’t laugh.
“I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to poison anyone,” Tumble said.
“It’s just one summer. Maybe only a few more days. We can do this. And then they’ll be gone.”
“Tumble and I’ve got an idea,” said Blue. “One that will make them be gone faster.”
He bumped Tumble’s elbow.
“That’s right,” she said. “It’s a perfect plan. You’re going to love it.”
“It’ll change your lives,” Blue added.
Jenna glanced at them in the rearview mirror. “Oh yeah? Well, if it’s life-changing, save it for lunch. I’m starving.”
A moment later, she drove the car into the parking lot of Flat’s Restaurant.
“Wait.” Howard’s eyes widened. “We’re supposed to be going to the grocery store!”
“It’s one o’clock. I don’t want to drive all that way on an empty stomach.” She parked them beside a truck covered in mud and Gone Fishing bumper stickers.
Howard sank so low into his seat, he looked like he was melting into the upholstery.
Ida turned around in her seat. “Howard,” she said soothingly. “Millie Flat’s a nice girl. She won’t bite.”
“Just try not to embarrass us all this time, Romeo,” said Jenna.
■ ■ ■
Flat’s Restaurant smelled like pancakes and french fries. It had a checkered tile floor that squeaked against the soles of Blue’s flip-flops, and oldies music was playing on a radio next to the cash register. Millie Flat was on duty, and by the time Howard slunk into the restaurant, she had already seated the rest of them at a corner booth and passed out giant laminated menus.
The bell over the door tinkled as he
came in, and Howard flinched like it was a siren.
“Howard!” Goat’s niece practically sang his name.
She snatched the menu right out of Blue’s hands and ran toward Howard, holding it out eagerly. But as soon as she reached him, red blotches spread across her cheeks and she stopped talking. Which was too bad, because Howard wasn’t talking, either.
“That’s so sweet,” Ida whispered.
“But also annoying,” said Jenna. “We’ll probably never get to order at this rate.”
When Howard and Millie finally made it back to the table, Tumble was laughing into her hand and Blue was pretending to stare very hard at his menu.
Howard squeezed into the booth beside them. His forehead was sweating.
“Are you okay?” Blue asked after Millie took their orders and left.
“What’s this great idea of yours?” Howard said in a croaky voice. “It sounded important. Really important.”
“You’re adorable,” Jenna cooed.
The look Howard shot at her would have withered grass.
“Our idea actually is really important,” Tumble said. “We know how to break your curse, Ida.”
Blue’s cousins stared at her.
“Tell them Blue.”
He took a deep breath. “Have you ever noticed,” he said, “that a lot of the Montgomery fates are opposites?”
■ ■ ■
By the time Millie brought their lunches, Ida was as green as a swamp cake.
“Flat as a flitter and twice as tasty!” Millie announced, sliding a stack of the famous pancakes toward Blue.
Tumble wondered how much food coloring it took to turn batter that particular shade of lime. “What’s a flitter?” she asked as Millie passed her a bottle of dressing for her salad.
“Umm . . . a flat thing?” Millie shrugged. “My mama says it.”
She seemed to have recovered her voice, but when she gave Howard his plate, she spilled a few baked beans down the front of her apron. She squeaked in horror and disappeared so quickly that they didn’t even have time to ask for a refill on their drinks.
Jenna leaned so far across the table that the tip of her long braid trailed through the gravy on top of her mashed potatoes.
“Listen,” she muttered to Blue, “I know you’re upset about your dad and being left here and being a los—”
“A long way from home,” Ida said, her voice weak. “But that’s no reason to suggest that I . . . that we . . . gerbils are dangerous! They eat their wounded. Everyone knows that.”
Howard was looking thoughtfully down at his beans. “It could work.”
“No it couldn’t!”
“It makes sense,” Howard insisted. “We should have thought of it years ago.”
Ida shook her head. “I don’t even want to talk about it. I don’t want the gerbils to know.”
“The Gerbellion are at home in their habitats right now, Ida,” Jenna said, annoyance creeping into her voice. “They’re not going to get you.”
Ida pulled her knees to her chest as if she thought the gerbils might be scurrying around Flat’s Restaurant. “They want to, though,” she said darkly. “They always want to. When you’re not in the room they line up along the glass and press their awful little paws against it, and they stare and stare and stare.”
“Oh, they do not!” said Jenna. “The whole reason I have gerbils is that they’re not aggressive. And I’ve been training these for ages. They haven’t bitten you once!”
Tumble perched her fork on the edge of her plate. “That’s perfect,” she said. “Don’t you see? We have friendly, trained gerbils who love you, Jenna.”
“And we have Ida, who the friendly, trained gerbils hate,” Blue added.
“So if we put the two of you together—”
“And then we make the gerbils choose whether to obey Jenna or snack on Ida—”
“Someone has to lose!” Tumble and Blue said together.
The twins exchanged identical, doubtful frowns.
Tumble decided it was time to sweeten the deal. “And you’ve got to think about Ma Myrtle. She wants someone to impress her, right? To show they’re brave enough and smart enough to make it in the swamp? Well . . . this would be really brave of you, Ida. And breaking your curse would prove you’re smarter than any Montgomery ever. Blue and I won’t take any credit. We’ll say the idea was all yours.”
Howard was nodding now. “Who cares about the stupid alligator?” he said. “If we could break our curses we might not need to go into the swamp at all.”
“What about Granny Eve?” Jenna said.
“What if breaking one curse broke all of them?” Howard countered.
The words zinged through the air. Tumble and Blue had already thought it, even though they were trying not to be too hopeful.
Tumble nodded at Howard. “Either way,” she said, “you won’t lose.”
Blue cleared his throat. “That’s right,” he said. “Either the gerbils will have to be nice to you, Ida. Or they’ll have to disobey Jenna. Someone’s fate is going to change, and that’s something even Ma Myrtle can’t ignore.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ida whispered. Her voice was so quiet that they almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the radio.
Howard snorted. “What’s there to think ab—”
“Eat your beans,” Jenna snapped, sitting back in the booth and patting Ida on the arm. “She promised to think about it.”
Then she pointed a spoon at Tumble and Blue. “I’m in if Ida is,” she said. “But if my gerbils get hurt, I’ll make sure every animal in the Okefenokee knows I don’t like you.”
TWENTY-FOUR
THE GRAND REVUE
Blue hung around the twins’ room for almost an hour that night, hoping to convince Ida that she was their best and only chance. When Jenna finally tossed him out, he called through the door, “Maybe the gerbils can’t tell the two of you apart! You’re twins! Maybe they’re color blind.”
Jenna opened the door and pointed at him. “The Gerbellion know their own mother. Now GO TO BED.”
She slammed it in his face.
“Harsh,” said Howard. He had just come up the stairs, carrying a gallon jug full of chocolate milk under one brawny arm.
Instead of turning into his own room, he followed Blue up the steps to the third floor. “You’re not allowed in the attic,” Blue informed him with a glance back over his shoulder. “Since you won’t share your room it’s only fair.”
“Hey, I helped clean the attic. Remember?”
“Your doorknob electrocuted me.”
“You keep mentioning that,” said Howard. He looked like he was holding back a grin. “I’m not going to the attic anyway. I’m heading to the bathroom. All of the other showers are full.”
“Still?”
It’s funny how you get used to things so quickly, he thought when they parted ways at the top of the stairs. Compared to everything else going on in the house, Howard drinking chocolate milk in the shower almost seemed ordinary.
■ ■ ■
That night, Blue couldn’t turn his brain off.
He was excited about the plan he and Tumble had come up with, and he was upset that the phone call with his dad had gone wrong. His grandmother had been angry, just like his dad predicted. What was it she’d said?
After what happened last time.
Was she worried about accidents? Blue’s dad had never been hurt. Alan Montgomery cruised right past wrecks on the track.
Blue rolled over and stared at the paint-splattered poster taped to its tower of boxes. He could hear the air conditioner blowing through the floor vent, and he could smell lemon cake from the last time he’d burned Ida’s candle. He didn’t feel so lonely up here, knowing that Tumble and his cousin had tried to make the place cheerful.
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Finally, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Slam.
Blue’s eyes snapped open. At first, he wasn’t sure what had woken him, but then the sound came again. And again. Banging noises were coming from downstairs.
As he listened, the sound moved up through the house. On the second story it was still muffled, but then it reached the third.
Blue rolled off his mattress and pressed his ear to the floorboards. He could hear a hinge shriek and then a slam. Slam, slam.
Voices were chattering, and there was a question in their tones that he couldn’t quite make out.
Then he heard feet pounding down the stairs.
Blue was tempted to stay up in his attic and let whatever new madness this was go on without him, but then he reconsidered. What if some especially ill-fated cousin had caused a tornado to touch down? What if Greg the fire-starting guy had decided to sleep inside tonight, and now the house was in flames?
Blue threw off his sheets, grabbed his duffel bag, and hurried downstairs.
■ ■ ■
At first, he thought something must have happened to Ma Myrtle. Her time hadn’t run out, but with every single person in the house trying to crowd into her bedroom, he couldn’t imagine what else it might be.
But then, over the hubbub, Cousin Chelsea shouted so loudly that her hair rollers shook. “Quiet, y’all! Our darling, wise, and beloved matriarch is making the announcement.”
The announcement? wondered Blue. She couldn’t mean . . .
The Montgomerys pushed in closer, trampling on one another’s bunny slippers, knocking eyeglasses off of faces and dental retainers out of mouths.
“Ma Myrtle, you look awfully young for a ninety-seven-year-old!”
“Did I tell you about how I’m going to name my firstborn Myrtle? Boy or girl! It’s such a gorgeous name!”
Blue dropped his bag and stood on his tiptoes, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of his great-grandmother.
He did spot Howard in the middle of the group, pushing his way through the relatives. Nobody was moving for him, but it didn’t matter. He was using his bulky shoulders like battering rams, and he didn’t mind throwing an elbow or two in the direction of the more terrible family members.
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