by Ginger Rue
“It’s part of my brain, though. The brain is like a muscle, Aleca,” she said. “It gets old and out of shape too. I find that I can’t remember things the way I used to. I walk into a room sometimes and forget why I went in there. Or I tell someone something I’ve already told them, but I don’t remember telling them the first time. The teleportation difficulties are the same. As a child I had limited control over my teleporting, but I practiced until I gained mastery over it. I was able to decide whether I wanted to think myself somewhere or not. As a young woman I could go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I could think of a place but control whether or not I went there. But lately . . . I don’t know. Oh, how can I explain it? Aleca, have you ever tried to stifle a sneeze?”
“Yes,” I said. “Because my sneezes are real doozies—very loud and embarrassing.”
Aunt Zephyr smiled. “And can you stop yourself from sneezing if you try?”
“Most of the time,” I replied. “But not always.”
“Then you have some idea of what I’m trying to tell you,” she said. “My teleportation is kind of like a sneeze. And the older I get, the less I’m able to stifle it.”
3
Roller-Skating and Nose Rubbing
Worrying about stifling her teleportation did not cause Aunt Zephyr to lose any sleep that night. She gorilla snored, just like she had the night she’d arrived.
Maybe she wasn’t losing any sleep, but I was. I don’t think it was because of the snoring, though. I think it was the worrying.
Aunt Zephyr had come to help me learn how to be a Wonder, but it seemed like she wasn’t able to even help herself sometimes. And I wasn’t supposed to tell my parents about her not being able to control her teleportation, on account of Aunt Zephyr didn’t want to worry them. Well, neither did I, but I also sort of wished somebody could worry about it besides just me. Worrying is supposed to be for grown-ups, isn’t it?
I think that’s true, because when you’re ten years old, you can worry about something only for so long before something shiny and glittery grabs your attention.
The shiny and glittery thing for me was . . . my skating party! The next day was Saturday, which meant that my tenth birthday party was finally here!
I could hardly wait to skate with my friends. Even the Hokey Pokey, which is otherwise strictly for babies, is fun when you’re on wheels and there are colored lights. Also, there are races, and the winners get a free soda or slice of pizza from the concessions stand, plus, of course, the glory of beating everyone else on skates.
The only bad part about my party was that Mom didn’t want anyone to get hurt feelings, so I’d had to invite my whole entire class. And probably even the ones who didn’t like me would have to come anyway since their moms would not want to hurt my feelings.
Most of elementary school revolves around avoiding hurt feelings. Like when you are forced to give valentines to everyone in your class, and you spend all that time picking out the cards in the box that don’t say something mushy or tell certain people how great they are, because they aren’t great and you certainly don’t feel any mush for them.
I had tried to argue with my mom that it hurt my feelings to have to invite the meanies and the crybabies and the troublemakers to my party, but apparently my feelings didn’t matter. Sometimes my mom misunderstands the whole hurt-feelings thing. I think Birthday Girl status should beat hurt feelings of classmates, kind of the way rock beats scissors and paper beats rock.
I almost didn’t even care if Madison and Jordan showed up and treated me like dirt; I would ignore them anyway. Plus, Maria was definitely coming, and what is better than a skating party with your best friend? (The answer is . . . not much.)
Maria was coming over early Saturday afternoon; we were going to the party together and then she would spend the night. Mom and Dad weren’t sure the sleepover was the best idea anymore, given all that had happened in the last few days with my Wonder ability and Aunt Zephyr showing up, but since we had made the plans a few weeks before, they said we should just go with it.
When Maria got to my house, she made a face and asked, “What is that awful noise?”
“Aunt Zephyr is taking a nap,” my mother replied.
“She snores,” I explained. “A lot.”
“M-o-o-o-om!” Dylan whined. The way she dragged it out made it sound like “Mom” had a whole string of o’s in it.
“It won’t kill you for one night,” Mom said.
“Easy for you to say.” Dylan groaned. “She’s not sleeping in your room.”
Maria and I watched TV for a little while and ate snacks, and then, before we knew it, it was time to get ready to go to the rink. Aunt Zephyr’s snoring had stopped, which made me glad in a way but also reminded me to worry. What if the snoring was gone because Aunt Zephyr was gone, and gone without meaning to be gone?
“I need to check on something,” I told Maria. “Be right back.”
Dylan was downstairs on the computer, so I slipped into her room without asking permission. I am not supposed to do that, but it’s not every day that you have to check to see if your aunt has accidentally gone to Finland during her nap. The bedcovers were dented as if someone had recently been lying there, but the bed was empty. I looked around but didn’t see Aunt Zephyr anywhere.
Oh no, I thought. Where could she be?
“Hi there!” chirped a loud and cheerful voice.
“Ahhh!” I called. I turned toward the closet, where Aunt Zephyr was standing. She was wearing a short, twirly purple-and-black skirt with a purple-and-black blouse and patterned black tights. She even had on matching black glasses, and her orange hair hung down around her face except where it kind of stuck out on the sides. “You scared me,” I said. “I thought you’d gone missing again.”
“Oh, not today,” she said. “That’s why I made sure to get a good nap. It works wonders on the Wonders.” She tapped the side of her head. “I feel like a million bucks. Do I look like a million bucks?”
What was I supposed to say? “Maybe eight hundred thousand?” That seemed like a big enough number to still be generous.
“What? Don’t you like my outfit?”
I’m not supposed to lie, but I’m also not supposed to say mean things. Mom and Dad always tell me, If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. So that was what I did. . . . I didn’t say anything at all.
“Cat got your tongue?” joked Aunt Zephyr. “I’ll have you know that this was all the rage the last time I went roller-skating.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“Let’s see. . . . I believe it was . . . Oh yes. It was on the Embarcadero Freeway in San Francisco back in the late 1980s after an earthquake! Oh, what fun! I can hardly wait for your party!”
“You’re coming to my party?” I asked. “And you’re actually going to skate?”
“Of course and of course,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Aren’t you kind of old for roller-skating?”
“Bah!” answered Aunt Zephyr. “You’re only as old as you feel!”
This was odd, even for Aunt Zephyr, which is saying a lot, seeing as how Aunt Zephyr was pretty much always odd. Hadn’t she just been telling me how she was old and falling apart? And now she was acting like a spring chicken. I wasn’t sure why people said “spring chicken,” but I supposed maybe the spring was when chickens got born? Either way, Aunt Zephyr was acting like she thought she was young.
“Are you sure you should be skating?” I asked.
“You only live once,” she noted. “And as I recall, skating is exhilarating! You should have seen us back then! We called ourselves the Midnight Rollers. It was a double-decker freeway, completely closed after the quake. Oh, it was glorious! Such a shame they had to tear it down.”
“There might have been more room on the freeway for skating than there is at the rink,” I observed. “It can get kind of crowded on Saturday nights. There’s not a
lot of entertainment in Prophet’s Porch, and sometimes the high schoolers go there for something to do. They skate really fast. I always hold Maria’s hand when we start out, just because there’s less chance of them mowing down two of us together.”
“Nonsense!” proclaimed Aunt Zephyr. “I will not be intimidated by adolescents on wheels! I intend to skate, and I intend to enjoy myself immensely!”
“Suit yourself,” I said.
Maria came upstairs, calling my name. “That’s my friend Maria,” I told Aunt Zephyr. “I’ll introduce you. But please don’t freak her out.”
“How would I do that?” Aunt Zephyr questioned. I think she really didn’t know.
“Oh, there you are,” Maria said. “What’re you doing in Dylan’s room? Won’t she kill you if she catches you in here?”
“I was just checking on my aunt,” I replied. “Maria, meet Aunt Zephyr. Aunt Zephyr, meet Maria.”
“Enchanted,” Aunt Zephyr said. She leaned down and rubbed her nose against Maria’s nose. Maria stepped back and looked at me, confused. And, as I’d predicted, she seemed really freaked out.
“¿Qué diablo? ” Maria shouted. Which basically means “What the fladoodlecakes?” which was a perfectly reasonable question.
“That’s how people greet each other in New Zealand,” Aunt Zephyr informed us.
“Aunt Zephyr,” I said through clenched teeth. “This isn’t New Zealand.”
“Nevertheless, it is a charming greeting, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Not so much,” I said.
“Bah!” said Aunt Zephyr. “You should get out more. Well, I’m going downstairs to find your mother.”
When Aunt Zephyr had left the room, I told Maria, “Don’t ask.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” said Maria.
“Let’s go get ready for the party,” I suggested. “I’m going to wear my new birthday outfit! It’s a green jacket with fringe at the bottom, which will swish when I skate. Also, I have leggings and a flouncy skirt!”
“Flouncy?” asked Maria. “How flouncy?”
“Extra flouncy,” I replied. “I am going to flounce all over the place in that thing!”
As Maria and I went to my room to change, I hoped the weirdest part of our night had already happened.
Nope.
4
Every Party Has Its Pooper
Just as I’d predicted, the roller rink was packed. Probably because it was raining outside so everybody wanted to do an indoor activity. There were families with little kids, and there were groups of teenagers. The only place we had to ourselves was the party room, where Mom had put the balloons, drinks, and cake. Even though this cake could not possibly be as tasty as the lemon-raspberry surprise Mom had made on my actual birthday, this one was prettier. It was white with colorful stripes down the sides and a big, bright green bow on top. The bow was made of fondant. I knew that from all those bakery battle shows on TV. I had never actually eaten fondant before, so now was my chance.
Almost everybody from my class showed up at the party—even Madison and Jordan. They probably had no choice: Madison’s mom really likes my mom. I think it made her sad when Madison stopped being friends with Maria and me. When she saw my mom, she hugged her and said, “Harmony! So great to see you!”
“I’m glad Madison could make it,” said my mom. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time, Madison. How are you?”
“Fine,” mumbled Madison. She rolled her eyes at Jordan, who was glued to her like always. Madison’s mom cleared her throat, which meant Madison was about to be in trouble if she didn’t watch her step.
“She’s a little tired, that’s all.” Her mom laughed uncomfortably. “Thanks so much for inviting her. We hope you like your present!” I could tell by how she said it that Madison hadn’t had a thing to do with picking out my present, but that was fine by me. Madison probably would have given me a stinky, dead rat if she could’ve gotten away with it.
Her mom continued, “And look at you, Miss Birthday Girl! Aren’t you just as pretty as a picture? And getting so grown-up!”
“Thank you,” I said. I wondered why Madison couldn’t be sweet like her mom.
“And good to see you, Maria,” Madison’s mother went on. She looked at my mom with a sad smile. “I do miss the days of the Three Amigas.”
“We must find the time to get the girls together for a playdate one of these days!” my mom yelled over the music. She was just saying that to be nice. There was no way that was ever going to happen, and we all knew it. Ever since Madison had become a soccer girl, she thought she was way too cool for Maria and me.
“Madison, why don’t you and Jordan take Aleca’s gifts in there?” Her mom motioned toward the party room.
“Great idea,” acknowledged my mom. “Aleca, show them which room we’re in.”
Madison and Jordan hung back from Maria and me, walking so slowly that you’d think they were older than Aunt Zephyr. They were slumped over and growly faced, like we were walking them to a dungeon. When we finally got into the party room, I said, “Here we are.”
Madison declared, “We didn’t pick these presents out. Our moms bought them. We don’t even know what they are.”
“Thank you,” I responded.
“We only came because our moms made us!” snapped Jordan.
“Don’t do me any favors,” I urged them. “You can leave now, as far as I care.”
“I wish!” whined Madison. “I can’t believe I’m at such a babyish party.”
“My party is not babyish,” I argued. “In case you didn’t notice, my cake has a fondant bow.”
“Ooh, I’m so impressed,” Jordan gibed. I would’ve liked to stop time and shove both of their faces into my beautiful, fondant-bowed birthday cake, but I knew better. No time stopping. Not even if it seemed like a really good idea.
“It’s time to get our skates,” Madison announced to Jordan. “You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.” Then Madison said to me, “Don’t worry. I’ve got a special present just for you, Aleca Zamm.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I asked.
“You think you got away with what you did at school the other day, don’t you? But I’m going to tell on you!”
I gulped. “What are you talking about?”
Madison grinned wickedly. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! You didn’t really think you could get away with it, did you? I know things. And I’m going to tell everyone! I am going to make sure everyone knows who you really are, Aleca Zamm!” Then she laughed like a villain and followed after Jordan.
“Wow. Feliz cumpleaños,” Maria commented. “That’s a nice way to treat someone on her birthday!”
“For reals,” I said.
“What do you think she meant when she said she was going to tell on you?” asked Maria.
I had a bad feeling. I was so scared, I was even shaking a little bit. Could Madison know about me stopping time?
I couldn’t let Maria see that I was upset. If she did, she’d get suspicious. I needed to get out of that party room, briefly ditch Maria, and find Aunt Zephyr . . . fast.
“I don’t know what Madison was talking about, and I don’t even care,” I explained. “I’ve got roller-skating, a cake with a green fondant bow, and my best friend. It’s going to be a great party!”
Maria and I went to get our skates. When we sat down to lace them, I saw Aunt Zephyr get up from where she’d been sitting. She had just finished her laces. I waved her over. She rolled on the carpet to where we were. “Ha-ha!” Aunt Zephyr gloated. “Triumph!”
“Huh?” I asked.
“Triumph,” answered Aunt Zephyr. “Victory. I am once again on skates, and doing just fine. And you thought I was too old!”
“You were the one who was telling me you were old,” I asserted. “Don’t you remember?”
“It’s true that I’m old,” confessed Aunt Zephyr. “But I’m also something else, and that is spry.”
I tried to interrupt. “Aunt Zephyr—” I began. But she talked right over me.
“ ‘Spry,’ my dear,” Aunt Zephyr proclaimed, “is ‘nimble and brisk.’ ”
Maria and I looked at each other. We didn’t know “nimble” or “brisk” any more than we knew “spry.”
“It’s a certain zest.” Aunt Zephyr smiled. I guess we still looked confused, because she added, “An energy for life. Today I choose to embrace my desire to roller-skate rather than hide behind the number that tells me I am too old for such things.” She raised her hand, made a fist, and declared, “Instead of cowering from life, I choose to roll toward it on these small plastic wheels! And that, you see, is what makes me spry!”
“But you’re still on the carpet, Aunt Zephyr,” I stated. “The rink is a lot slicker. Also, can I talk to you for a second . . . privately?”
She ignored my request. She was too excited about skating. “Rink, shmink,” she replied. “Outta my way, whippersnappers! Here I come!” She bent over and started pumping her arms as she skated toward the main floor. She reminded me of one of those bulls that charges the red capes.
“Aleca, I have a bad feeling about this,” cautioned Maria. “Your aunt is old, and my mami says old people have fragile bones. My abuela broke her hip and had to be in the hospital for a long time, and she still walks funny and has to rub minty ointment on herself when it rains.”
“I tried to tell Aunt Zephyr she shouldn’t skate,” I said. “One of those high school boys is probably going to knock her into next week. But she wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I sure hope she knows what she’s doing,” Maria fretted.
“I’m sure Aunt Zephyr can take care of herself,” I insisted. “Come on! Let’s go skate!” Maybe I could catch up to Aunt Zephyr and stop her long enough to tell her about Madison.
Maria and I rolled to the edge of the carpet and waited for a chance to insert ourselves into the flow of skaters. Trying to find an open spot was pretty hard. The skaters just kept coming with no break in between them, like they were waiting to run you down. Finally we found an opening. Maria gripped my hand, and we went for it. The teenagers whisked past us so fast, our hair actually blew when they went by. Once we got going, we were able to let go of each other’s hands and skate as an unconnected pair.