The First Last Day

by Dorian Cirrone

  “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “You’ll have a wonderful time with Kevin’s friends.”

  I smiled up at her. How did she always know what I was thinking? Maybe there was such a thing as magic when it came to moms.

  As we climbed the steps to the front door, a chill wind blew my hair across my face. I tucked the long strand behind my ear while Mom rang the bell.

  I swallowed hard as the door opened. “Hey, everyone,” Kevin said. “It’s Haleigh.”

  A chorus of “Hey,” sounded before everyone went back to what they were doing.

  I held out the gifts. “Happy birthday.”

  Kevin looked at the wrapping paper and smiled.

  “Open them later,” I said. “After everyone leaves.”

  “Sure.” He looked up at Mom and then at her protruding belly. “I heard it’s a boy,” he said.

  Mom nodded. “Yes. And I hear that Michael is planning to give Haleigh some tips about having a little brother.”

  A voice came from around a corner. “Did someone mention my name?”

  I’d met Michael at the funeral, but as soon as I looked into his face, it struck me even more how much he looked like a taller version of Kevin.

  Michael put his hands on Kevin’s shoulders. “If your brother’s anything like this guy, Rule Number One: start watching Star Wars videos ASAP.” We all laughed, and Mom left to join the adults in the kitchen.

  I had a strong urge to ask Michael about his painting. When did he realize the portrait looked just like Kevin? Did he know the paints were magic?

  I waited until we were alone together and asked him if he remembered the yellow box that G-Mags found in her closet.

  He got a faraway look in his eyes. “I sure do,” he said. “I was so bored that summer—all I wanted was someone to play with. Then G-Mags found those paints, and I did the portrait that ended up looking like Kevin.” He scratched his head. “Of course, I didn’t realize until almost four years later that it resembled him. It was the weirdest thing. I wondered whatever happened to those paints. Did G-Mags still have them?”

  I nodded. “Yes, she gave them to me.”

  “That’s great. What did you do with them?”

  “Um, I painted a picture of my last day of summer.”

  “So, how did it turn out?”

  I debated whether I should pour out my story. But all I said was, “Great.”

  Was that a twinkle in his eye that I spotted? I wasn’t sure. But as I smiled back at him, I felt a connection between us.

  I never told Kevin about the paints either. Or what happened on our very last day together. He remembered only the first August twenty-sixth. And when I thought about telling him the truth, it sounded so crazy, I didn’t believe it myself.

  Even though Dad said a few scientists think time travel could be possible one day, if someone offered me a ride in a time machine back to August, I’d say, “No.”

  I didn’t need to go back in time to save summer. I’d have it forever—in my painting.

  The party went by quickly and I had a great time with Kevin’s friends. Once they all left, Kevin pulled out the two gifts I’d brought. I held my breath. Would he like them? Or would the memories they brought make him sad?

  He jiggled the first package and turned it over a couple of times. “Is it a book?”

  I shook my head and smiled. “Just open it.”

  He ripped the paper off and held up the canvas. At first he was quiet. Then his eyes began to water.

  A wave of regret came over me as I watched Kevin wipe his eyes with his fist. “It’s amazing,” he said. “It looks just like her.”

  “I hope so.” I’d tried to capture everything about G-Mags: her kind face, her sparkling eyes, her love for family and friends. “I painted her in the kitchen—because that’s how I’ll always remember her.”

  “Me too.” Kevin pointed to her hand, poised just above a pot. “What’s that she’s holding?”

  “It’s rosemary. For remembrance.”

  Kevin smiled and put the painting down.

  “I hoped it wouldn’t make you sad.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s kind of a good sad. You know what I mean?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, G-Mags is gone. But now I have this picture that reminds me of her and of how great the summer was and how you and I met and how we’re all friends, and you’re going to have a little brother.”

  I wiped my eyes and gestured for Kevin to open the smaller package.

  He ripped the paper off to reveal the DVDs from Mr. Sidhu’s store.

  “Whoa! This is too much. You shouldn’t have . . .”

  “It’s okay. A few weeks ago, we went down the shore and I sold a painting.” I didn’t tell Kevin who I sold it to. He’d never believe the eavesdropping man in the restaurant bought one of my abstract paintings.

  “I always said you were a great artist.” He examined the DVDs. “Now we can watch The Day the Earth Stood Still from the beginning.” His eyes brightened and the corners of his mouth curled up. I knew what he was going to say before he said it: “Klaatu barada nikto.”

  Hearing the words sent me back to G-Mags’s kitchen.

  “Are you okay?” Kevin said. “You looked like you were somewhere else for a second.”

  “I was just thinking about summer: the cottage, the cannolis . . .” I raised my eyebrows. “The cow suit. For a second I thought I could even smell rosemary.”

  “You did!” Kevin exclaimed. “My mom made ragout. She remembered how much you liked it.”

  I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get a mooove on.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Like Haleigh’s last day of summer, this novel had more do-overs than I can count. Fortunately, the following amazing people were there for me during the process.

  My agent, Steven Chudney: You hung in there for all the revisions and never stopped believing. I can’t thank you enough for your loyalty, persistence, and humor, and for finding the perfect home for this novel.

  My editor, Fiona Simpson: You understood my vision perfectly and made this book the best it could be. I thank you for steering it through its various stages with so much care, for editing with such an astute eye, and, most of all, for teaching me to trust the reader.

  Laura Lyn DiSiena and Pascal Campion: Together, the two of you created a cover more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I am amazed and grateful for your time and talents.

  Everyone at Aladdin: Thank you for all that you do behind the scenes, for welcoming me onto your team, and for working so hard to come up with a great new title.

  Linda Adler and Debra Frank: Many thanks for your encouragement on an earlier version of this novel and for your years of friendship. I wish we could go back and have a do-over of just one day in junior high, knowing what we know now.

  Flora Doone, Debbie Reed Fischer, Alexandra Flinn, and Laurie Tadonnio: You cheered me on during various versions of this novel. Each of you, in your own unique way, contributed something invaluable, and I thank you for that.

  Amy Linn and Lorin Oberweger: Your expert opinions made me aware of things I might never have noticed on my own. My characters and I are grateful.

  Julie Arpin, Kathy Macdonald, and Gloria Rothstein: Your willingness along the way to read and critique so many versions and parts of this novel without ever complaining has meant everything to me. I am so lucky to have you as friends.

  The Florida SCBWI, and, in particular, Linda Bernfeld: Your support has been invaluable to me as a writer, critiquer, and teacher. I thank you for believing in my work and my abilities.

  James Lewis: If it weren’t for your taking us to Atlantic City on our visits to New Jersey, this novel would have been a very different one, indeed. Many thanks for being our chauffeur and guide—even though I never hit the jackpot.

  Nancy Knutson: A conversation about what type of book your school library needed g
ave me inspiration for parts of this book. Many thanks for that conversation and for your friendship.

  Brett Kushner: This book wouldn’t have been the same without those weird and wonderful conversations in car pool or your ubiquitous cow costume. Thank you for being so “amoosing.”

  My readers, especially those who have reached out to tell me how much my books have meant to them: A story isn’t really finished until others read it and make it their own. You have my deep gratitude for “finishing” my books.

  Blaise Koncsol: Your love and humor sustain me. Thank you for always helping me find the funny parts in life, and in my writing as well. I would not be the same person if I hadn’t had you.

  Siena Koncsol: If I’d put in an order for the perfect daughter for me, I couldn’t have done better. How fortunate I am to have someone in my life who loves books as much as I do and who is willing to read everything I write. There are no words strong enough to tell you how much I appreciate you.

  Stephen Koncsol: Thank you for supporting and encouraging my writing all these years and for telling me about how you burned down your neighbor’s fence. While I’m not condoning such behavior, it was a perfect addition to the novel. If there were such things as do-overs, I’d do everything all over again with you.

  DORIAN CIRRONE worked as a door-to-door survey taker, a dance teacher, a choreographer, a feature writer and assistant city editor for a daily newspaper, and a college writing instructor before finally finding her true passion as a writer for children and teens. She has never been caught in a summer vacation time loop, but because she has lived in south Florida most of her life, sometimes it feels like it. To learn more about Dorian and her other books, short stories, and poems, visit her online at www.doriancirrone.com.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  First Aladdin hardcover edition June 2016

  Text copyright © 2016 by Dorian Cirrone

  Jacket illustration copyright © 2016 by Pascal Campion

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  Jacket designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena

  Interior designed by Hilary Zarycky

  The text of this book was set in Scala.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Cirrone, Dorian, author.

  Title: The first last day / by Dorian Cirrone.

  Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2016. |

  Summary: Eleven-year-old Haleigh Adams paints a picture with a mysterious set of paints found in her backpack and now she is stuck in a time loop, but when she realizes her parents have been keeping a secret she and her new best friend Kevin must find the source of the magic paints and the secret of the time loop before it is too late.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015028695 | ISBN 9781481458139 (hc) | ISBN 9781481458153 (eBook)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Time—Fiction. | Magic—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Secrets—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Friendship. | JUVENILE FICTION / Family / Multigenerational. | JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & Magic.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.C499 Fi 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015028695