I came down with an instant case of the jitters. My heart jackhammered harder and harder the closer I got to the house.
“Wait, this is where you live?” asked Violet, who had never visited me in Truth or Consequences.
“Yep,” I said.
Leroy padded behind us, still sniffing, his nose twitching fast as a rabbit’s. He trotted to the door and scratched. Under no circumstances would I be letting him in.
“Maybe you guys should look first,” I whispered.
“What’ll we do if your mom’s in there?” Noah asked, and I wondered if he’d read my mind.
“I don’t know.” My voice was hoarse and my head felt full of cotton.
Violet volunteered and scooted to the sliding door. She pressed her face against the glass. “Coast is clear. No one’s home. I bet she’s at school.” She sounded disappointed, although I wasn’t. Even though I’d been wishing to see my mom one more time, all of a sudden I didn’t have a clue what I’d say to her if we actually came face-to-face. I worried I’d blurt out the truth, which could change everything. Like the fact that I was born.
I peeked into the living room and couldn’t believe my eyes. Everything was different. In place of Florida’s red velvet sofa was one with giant orange flowers. Gold-framed mirrors hung everywhere, and the shelves that would someday be filled with her shopping show knick-knacks were nowhere to be seen.
Crash! Clang! BOOM! We jumped at the sharp sound of clattering metal.
Leroy cowered behind my legs.
It was our neighbor Manny. He was in his backyard, right behind Florida’s house, tossing a truck bumper onto a junk heap. Now there was a difference. In the future, Manny would have cast-off computers in piles everywhere, but now his yard was littered with car parts. And there was no doubt about it: Manny definitely looked a whole lot younger. Even though he was still skinny as a plank and wore his dark hair slicked back smooth, he didn’t have a single wrinkle crisscrossing his face. Now I was absolutely sure we’d really gone back to the past.
Manny kicked a metal drum with his boot and shouted a nasty word. OK, that part about the guy was exactly the same.
Leroy whimpered and shook with fear.
“Don’t worry, boy. No one’s going to make you live with mean old Manny again.” I stroked Leroy’s head.
My dog had once belonged to Manny who was the Worst Pet Owner in Recorded History. Last summer, when my Grandpa Jack bought Leroy from him for a hundred dollars, it was the happiest day of my life. And Leroy’s, too.
Manny’s back screen door slammed shut and everything turned quiet again. The enormity of our situation sent a flurry of questions rocketing around my brain.
Was Grandma Daisy really and truly inside Rosalie Claire’s old house? If she was, would she be able to fix the fanny pack? Then if she did fix it, would the magic be strong enough to save my grandmother?
And what if I bumped into my mom while I was in the past? Should I try to stay away from her so I wouldn’t run the risk of changing the future?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Grandma Daisy
I inhaled some courage, mounted the steps to the back porch, and knocked three times on the door.
No answer.
“Maybe she’s out,” Violet said.
“But we traveled through the MegaPix. She was on the videotape when we zapped in. She should be here. At least that’s how it worked with the TV shows.”
“Try it again,” Noah said.
I knocked once more. Leroy got bored and waddled to his favorite spot in the shade of the lone cottonwood tree, which I suddenly realized was much smaller than it would be when I moved here nearly twenty years in the future.
The door sprung open and Grandma Daisy stood on the other side, all chocolate skin, smile wrinkles, and twinkly brown eyes. And she was short. Almost exactly my height and I wasn’t nearly done growing.
“Well, look who’s here.” She was just as sparkly as she’d been in the video.
Had she been expecting us?
My friends and I exchanged looks of complete confusion.
“I’m Madison,” I gulped. “These are my friends, Violet and Noah. And my dog, Leroy.”
“It looks like Leroy has made himself at home.”
Leroy was busy digging for bones that he probably remembered burying under the tree, years in the future.
“Of course, I didn’t know what your names would be, but last night I had a dream that Rosalie Claire was sending three visitors my way. And a cat. Of course, I don’t always get everything right in my dreams.” Her eyes crinkled into a smile.
Holy cow! Rosalie Claire always said her Grandma Daisy was magic. Could she dream the future too?
“We need to talk. It’s important,” I said.
“Of course, dear. That was also part of the dream.”
“OK, you might think this is super weird. I hardly believe it myself,” I began.
“Tell me. So little surprises me anymore.”
“We’re from the future. From 2014.” I felt as if I’d just stepped into a corny science fiction movie as I told her all about the MegaPix 6000 and how the remote control zapped us here through the wormholes.
“Oh my. I’ve always had visions about traveling to the future.” Her eyes twinkled at the thought.
“Rosalie Claire wanted me to make sure to tell you that she sends her love and thinks about you every day. We’ve been visiting her and her husband Thomas in Costa Rica where they live,” I said.
“My granddaughter is married? How wonderful! Why that news alone makes your visit extra-special! Is her Thomas a kind and loving man?”
I nodded. Then without warning, my eyes welled up with tears.
“Oh dear. Here I am prattling on about my granddaughter and I can see you haven’t come on a simple visit. What’s wrong, child?”
I stared at the dirt. My words stuck in my throat.
Violet came to my rescue and draped her arm over my shoulder. “Madison’s grandma is real sick and Rosalie Claire’s fanny pack stopped working. She said you’d know how to recharge it.”
“Oh dear. What’s wrong with your grandmother?”
I wiped my eyes. “It’s a strange jungle disease the doctors haven’t figured out. I’m worried Florida could die.”
“My goodness!” Grandma Daisy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Wait a minute. Are you saying that Florida is your grandmother? Florida Brown?”
I nodded.
“My stars, then you must be Angela’s daughter. I did not get that right in my dream at all and it’s the most important part. Now I know why you look so familiar. I’d know that silky brown hair and your beautiful smile anywhere.”
It’s true. Parts of me looked exactly like my mom.
“I brought the fanny pack. Can you recharge it?” I asked.
“Oh my, I do hope so.” Then it was Grandma Daisy’s turn to stare down at the dirt, as if she was trying to puzzle something out. “You know, maybe we should all go inside for a nice cold drink. There’s someone inside I’d like you to meet.”
Who would it be? My throat turned dry and I swallowed hard.
“And it looks as if your dog could use something tastier than a mouthful of dusty stones.”
I turned back to the cottonwood tree and saw Leroy gnawing on rocks, probably wondering why they didn’t crunch like buried bones.
When I called for him, he scampered up the steps behind us and we all went into the house.
The first thing I noticed in Grandma Daisy’s kitchen was the calendar we’d seen in the video. And the second thing? A tripod stood on the pine floor with no video camera attached to it.
“This way,” said Grandma Daisy.
We followed her into the living room. A girl sat on the sofa, ejecting a videotape cassette from a camera. Her straight brown hair grazed her shoulders, just like mine. She wore a Bart Simpson t-shirt and cutoff jean shorts.
Grandma Daisy cleared her throat. “I’d like you kids to mee
t my good friend and cameraperson extraordinaire, Angela Brown.”
I nearly fainted. It was my mother. And she wasn’t much older than me.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
My Kid-Mom
“Hey!” my mom said. “What’s your name?”
She was talking to me. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with balled-up socks. I couldn’t say a word and I couldn’t stop staring. Shouldn’t she know me? OK, so maybe I hadn’t technically been born yet, but she was still my mom.
Even though she couldn’t have been more than fourteen, I would have recognized her anywhere. She had the same light-brown gold-flecked eyes, and the same wide smile as her grown-up self. My kid-mom even had the sea of freckles covering her arms where she used to let me use colorful washable markers to play connect-the-dots. There was something so familiar about her. A spark and a spirit that could only belong to my mother.
I did everything in my power to fight back an avalanche of tears and stop myself from rushing into her arms. How weird would that be? When I’d first double-wished that I could see her one more time, I hadn’t imagined she’d be a kid just like me.
Grandma Daisy slipped her arm around my waist. “Angela, this is Madison. And these are her friends, Violet and Noah.”
Leroy trotted over to my mother and sniffed every inch of her like he’d just found a treasure chest filled with beef bones. He nuzzled his head in her lap.
“Cool dog. What’s your name, boy?”
“Leroy,” I said. My voice sounded like a squeaky toy.
“I wish I could have a dog. One of the many things on my mother’s Not in This Lifetime list.” She snapped the VHS tape into the plastic container and wrote the words “Daisy’s Special Remedies” on the label with a black Sharpie.
Noah nudged me to make sure I’d noticed.
“Did you guys just move into the neighborhood?” she asked.
How could I possibly tell my mom where I lived? Next door, in her house, twenty years in the future?
“Noah lives in Denver. Madison and I are from Bainbridge Island, near Seattle,” Violet said, covering for me.
“An island? That’s totally awesome! Why would you come to T or C?” She said it as if Truth or Consequences was the worst place on Earth.
Don’t tell her the truth, or you could mess up everything, I reminded myself. But what should I say? Before I could think something up, Grandma Daisy jumped in.
“Rosalie Claire met them on her travels. She thought they’d enjoy a visit during their school vacation.”
As much as I hate lying, in this case it was definitely better than telling her that in the future she was going to be my mom.
“Nice! You must have a late spring break. Are you guys staying here with Daisy?”
Were we? I had no idea.
“Of course they are. I was thinking they might like to go to Fiesta this weekend.”
Fiesta was a celebration that happened every year at the beginning of May. The town would fill up with tourists, food booths, and carnival games. It all kicked off with practically half the people who lived here marching down Main Street in a big parade.
“Sweet! We’ll be neighbors, at least for a little while. Hey, I’m going to videotape the parade. You should come with me. Fiesta’s the bomb.” My mom popped the plastic cap onto the camera lens.
Sweet? The bomb? Wow, she sure had the teenage language thing down back when she was a kid.
We were interrupted by a familiar scream coming from next door.
“Angela Brown, get your scrawny butt home this instant!”
I shook my head. “Florida,” I said before I could catch myself.
“You know my mother?” My kid-mom looked completely confused.
I felt my face blushing red.
This time it was Noah who came to my rescue. “No, Rosalie Claire told us all about her. Isn’t that right, Madison?”
I nodded and felt like kicking myself. I’m a terrible liar. This time-travel cover-up business was going to test my soul.
“Gotcha. Well, sounds like my mother just got back from her Red Hot Mamas Club meeting, so I gotta go. I get to find out what she and her stupid friends are wearing for this year’s parade. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be totally embarrassing.”
“Good luck,” I said.
“Let’s hang out sometime, except not when my mother’s around. She can be a total pain in the you-know-what.”
Florida yelled for her again. My mom smirked, then dragged her feet out the back door and down the steps.
“That was your mother?” Violet said the second she was gone. “How Freaky Friday is that?”
I was in shock. I collapsed onto the sofa right on the spot where my mom had been sitting. It was still warm.
“All things considered, you did well,” Grandma Daisy said. “Know what I think? I think we all need some lemon balm lavender iced tea to calm our jangly nerves.” She went off to the kitchen.
“I guess she looks sort of the same. And kind of like you,” Violet said. “Holy Toledo, it’s so weird.”
Weird was an understatement. The whole experience made my head hurt and my heart ache.
“Tea’s ready!”
Grandma Daisy set four tall glasses of ice-cold tea on the kitchen table. It was sweetened with what she said was a special calming honey made with chamomile flowers. On the floor was a bowl of ice water for Leroy.
I pulled the fanny pack from my backpack and set it on the table in front of Grandma Daisy. “Rosalie Claire said you have a piece of amber with a frog in it that will recharge the magic.”
She sipped her tea through a straw and was quiet for just a little too long. “I used to have that piece of amber,” she finally said.
“Used to?” asked Noah.
“Until it went missing.”
“Missing?” Noah, Violet, and I said it at the same time.
“For years I kept it tucked away at the Wildflower and used it to strengthen magic that had grown weak. One day it up and disappeared. I’ve always had a nagging feeling that a man named Walter Brinker stole it. It happened not long after I sold him his own fanny pack. Black leather, if I recall.”
“Do you have a fanny pack, Grandma Daisy?” I asked.
“Oh my, yes. The poor little thing grew so threadbare I sent it off for patching and re-stitching. The fellow’s had it for nearly three weeks. Otherwise I could have used your remote thingamabob to go into the future and fix Florida myself.” Grandma Daisy sighed. “If my hunch is right and Walter has the amber, he holds the only cure I know for Rosalie Claire’s pouch.”
And the only salvation for Florida.
“Well then, we’re just going to have to find Walter Brinker and ask him.” Violet finished her last drop of tea with a noisy slurp.
“Where does he live?” Noah asked.
“On the edge of town behind the Shell station. Although I don’t know how I feel about sending you three there.”
“Why?” I asked.
Grandma Daisy sighed. “Walter Brinker is a grumpy recluse. I’m not sure you should be poking around his life.”
“But we’re the Mighty Trio.” Violet lifted both fists in the air like a winning prizefighter. “Three against one. And four against one if you come with us.”
Grandma Daisy shook her head. “I’m afraid I’d do you more harm than good. I’ve tried talking with him. The man won’t give me the time of day.”
On the other hand, that didn’t mean Walter Brinker wouldn’t talk to us.
I made a vow right then and there that until I tracked down that amber and recharged Rosalie Claire’s fanny pack, I wasn’t leaving 1994.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mom’s Florida Problems
That night we helped Grandma Daisy pull a pile of fluffy blankets and soft feather pillows from her leather trunk.
“Sweet Mother Pickles, that’s the same trunk Rosalie Claire has at La Posada Encantada.”
“Perhaps it is, Violet. Maybe I gi
ve it to her in the future.” Grandma Daisy spread three futons on the living room floor.
After a canopy of stars appeared like diamonds in the night sky, we settled into our makeshift beds. When I slept, I dreamed my mom was back to her grown-up self. We were in our old house on Bainbridge Island and she held a glowing amber orb as big as a soccer ball. I pressed my palms against it and together we zapped to the beach in Costa Rica. She sat cross-legged on the sand and watched me surf while I waited for the perfect wave. I wanted to show her how much I’d learned that summer. A championship swell rose up and I rode it to shore, my surfboard flying three feet above the water. When I looked to see if she was watching, my mom smiled at me and grew thin as fog. Then she rose up to join the clouds drifting above the sea.
I awoke to the sound of a heavy pan banging on the stove.
“I totally hate her.” My kid-mom sounded as if she was trying not to cry.
“Hate is a bitter word,” Grandma Daisy said. “It’s poison for your heart.”
“I know, I know,” is what I think my mom replied, except her voice was almost too whispery to hear.
But the amazing thing? What Grandma Daisy had said to my mom about hate being poison is exactly what my mom used to say to me.
My friends were still sleeping, so I tiptoed into the kitchen. Grandma Daisy and my mom were making pancakes. Leroy sat at attention by the stove, his stumpy tail ticking side to side as he waited hopefully for a stray morsel to fall at his feet.
“Oopsie!” Grandma Daisy accidentally-on-purpose lobbed a pancake over her shoulder.
Leroy’s tail wagged double time and he inhaled it before it even hit the floor.
“Good morning,” I yawned.
“Hey, we’re making banana-blueberry pancakes before school.” My mom poured small circles of batter into the big cast iron skillet. “Hope your night was better than mine.”
“Why? What happened?”
“You know the parade I promised I’d take you guys to? The one I was going to videotape? Now I can’t. My Mother the Witch is making me ride with her little group of Red Hot Mamas and their daughters on their dumb float.”
Hello There, Do You Still Know Me? Page 7