Hello There, Do You Still Know Me?

by Arnold, Laurie B. ;

  “We could come watch you,” I said.

  “No way. You’d laugh if you saw me. Fiesta is a circus theme this year and so what does my mother buy for me to wear? A totally butt-ugly baby pink tightrope walker costume. It looks like somebody barfed all over it with a mouthful of glitter.”

  “Ouch. Sounds gross.”

  “I know, right? What mother makes their kid do stuff like that? I bet yours doesn’t.”

  My eyes flicked over to Grandma Daisy who hesitated before slipping the browned pancakes onto a plate in the warm oven.

  “She’d never do anything like that. My mom was the coolest mom on the planet,” I said.

  “Was? Did something happen to her?”

  The oven door banged and I jumped. I swear the thump-thump of my heart sounded louder than the tick-tock of the kitchen clock.

  “I, uh, mean she is the coolest mom on the planet.” Because there was no denying that my mother was standing right there in front of me. And she did seem pretty darn cool.

  “You know what? I’m not going on that stupid float. Period. She can’t make me.”

  With Florida, I knew it was usually her way or the highway. If my mom refused, my grandmother would probably ground her. If that happened, I might never get to see her again.

  “You still have a few days before the parade,” I said hopefully. “Maybe she’ll change her mind.” In my year-and-a-half of living with Florida I knew that if I waited her out, every once in a while she’d come around to seeing things my way.

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. My mother’s brain is made of cement. She changes her clothes three times a day, but she never changes her mind.”

  It sounded as if Florida had been even more of a pain when my mom was growing up.

  Violet and Noah wandered in and we all ate breakfast, then the three of us changed out of our PJs.

  Grandma Daisy found a rope that we used as a leash for Leroy and the five of us plus my dog headed into town. The whole time my mom stayed right by my side.

  “Hey, I like your red bird necklace.”

  “Thanks. It’s a firebird.” I held the charm between my thumb and my finger and flew it back and forth on the chain. I wasn’t sure if I should tell her that it was a gift from Rosalie Claire, so I decided it would be best to keep the information to myself.

  “Maybe you could get one someday,” is what I did say, since I knew for a fact that it wouldn’t be long before Rosalie Claire would give my mom one of her own.

  “That would be the bomb. I totally love it.”

  We turned onto Broadway. The town of Truth or Consequences was almost frozen in time. Not much looked different twenty years ago except that the cars were older. And a guy wearing a backwards baseball cap walked down the street yelling into a cell phone that was big enough to be one of those landline telephones some people have in their houses. Just as it would be in the future, the sleepy street was filled with dusty stores selling second-hand cast-offs.

  My mom stopped and said goodbye. “Wish I could play hooky from school today. Catch you guys later.” I watched her disappear around the corner, her navy blue backpack sagging with books.

  We followed Grandma Daisy to the Wildflower Mercantile, the shop she owned on Main Street. She pushed open the door and we followed her inside. I held my breath. Whenever I’d go into the store in the future, it always stunk of incense, dust, and dead mice. Although the second I stepped inside, I realized that now the scents were heavenly. Lavender, sage, nutmeg, and honeysuckle filled my nostrils. One wall was lined with jars packed with mysterious herbs like fawn’s breath, fireweed, and feverfew. The whole place glistened with sparkly crystals, gold metal amulets, ancient arrowheads, crystal balls, and small green antique scarabs that looked like beetles turned to stone. Every square inch was chock-full of magical treasures.

  “Madison, Violet, Noah? I’d like you to meet my friend Mike.” Grandma Daisy gestured toward a young redheaded guy working behind the counter.

  It was Mike. Magic TV Mike. My Mike.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Mike

  “Mike’s my main man around here. And a lifesaver since I’ve cut back on my working hours,” Grandma Daisy told us.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said and we each shook his hand.

  Mike didn’t seem to know me. Which made sense since this was ages before the delivery of the MegaPix 6000. In his mind, today was the first time we’d ever met.

  But the most bizarre thing? He appeared to be almost the same age he was the day he first delivered the magic TV. How was that even possible?

  The second he went off to help a customer and was out of earshot, Violet bet me that this Mike wasn’t our Mike at all. She thought it was more likely that it was his father.

  “Except didn’t Rosalie Claire say she knew our Mike back when Grandma Daisy ran this place?” I whispered back.

  “If you do the math, then MegaPix Mike hasn’t been born yet,” Noah said. “I think Violet is right. This guy probably is his dad. Rosalie Claire could have easily met your Mike back when he was a little kid, right?”

  He had a good point. So that would make MegaPix Mike, Mike junior. And even though it made perfect sense, they looked almost like twins to me, minus the scruffy beard.

  Leroy, who’d been busy biting his butt, finally noticed Mike. My dog trotted over and nudged his blue jeans until he earned himself a scratch on the head. I wondered if Leroy thought he looked just like our Mike too.

  After he finished up with his customer, Grandma Daisy explained that we were looking for the missing frog amber and how we wanted to pay a visit to Walter Brinker. Thankfully, she didn’t mention we’d come from the future.

  “So, Mike,” Grandma Daisy asked, “a penny for your thoughts?”

  “I make it a point never to trust a guy who’s only fifty percent honest,” he said.

  Grandma Daisy let out a big sigh. “That was my worry too. That’s why I wanted your opinion.”

  “You know what?” Noah said. “Dealing with Walter Brinker couldn’t be any scarier than shooting down an out-of-control river in a flash-flood, or being attacked by bugs the size of baseballs, which is what Madison and I did last summer.”

  “Oh my!” Grandma Daisy’s eyebrows arched in surprise, wrinkling up her forehead.

  “Impressive.” Mike let out a long low whistle.

  “And we lived to tell the tale. We really need to do this,” I said.

  Grandma Daisy drummed her fingers on the glass countertop. She looked at us one by one, her eyes narrowed in thought.

  “Yes, I know that,” she said. “Which is why you should go see him. I have a feeling in my bones that you kids can handle this. Unfortunately, I don’t drive any more. I wrecked one too many cars when my mind wandered off the road and onto other things.”

  “I can give them a lift,” Mike offered. “Although they might be wasting their time.”

  He disappeared into the storeroom to get his keys. It gave me time to ask Grandma Daisy the question that nagged me the second we’d walked through the door.

  “Does Mike have a son?”

  “Oh, heavens to Betsy, no.”

  “What is he, like twenty or something?” Violet asked.

  “He certainly looks that young to me,” said Grandma Daisy. “Although I’m never very good with telling folks’ ages.”

  If Mike was twenty, that would make him about the same age as MegaPix Mike. Maybe Violet and Noah were right. This Mike could become the dad to the man who winks at me and calls me Squirt.

  We hopped into Mike’s old sky-blue Toyota. As it sputtered down the street I’m sure the sound of my heartbeat drowned out the clunk-clunk-clunk of the engine. Would Walter Brinker be as creepy as I thought?

  “When we get the amber, then do we just go home?” asked Violet. “Because I think we should at least hang out for Fiesta. It sounds like a blast.”

  “We might have to leave before that, Violet.” I shot her a look, hoping she c
ould read my mind. After all, we were here to find a cure for Florida, not to wait around just so we could eat junk food and play carnival games. Although one thing I knew for sure? I wouldn’t leave the past before seeing my mom again.

  “Where is home, anyway?” asked Mike.

  “Bainbridge Island, near Seattle,” said Violet.

  “Denver,” said Noah.

  “Home is where the heart is.” I tried to make it sound like a joke because no way could I tell him the real story.

  “Now isn’t that the honest truth?” Mike winked at me in the rearview mirror.

  OK, that was definitely Mike’s wink. How weird was it that my Mike and his dad winked in the exact same way? But there were things about Rosalie Claire and Grandma Daisy that were the same too. Like the fact that they both said they felt things “in their bones.”

  On the edge of town, we passed two men in shorts and tank tops smacking hammers on what looked like a parade float. It was a small version of a circus big top on the back of a flatbed trailer. An almost life-sized papier-mâché elephant stood on the sidewalk, its trunk lifted in a soundless trumpet. Leroy took one look at the fake elephant and went nuts, barking his head off. He squished his wet nose against the window, trying to smell the elephant through the glass.

  “Looks like somebody else is interested in checking out the Fiesta parade on Saturday,” Mike joked.

  We drove two miles out of Truth or Consequences to an old Shell gas station I knew wouldn’t be there in the future. Mike kept his motor running. Before I’d moved here, the place must have been knocked down, which probably could have been done with a swift kick. The adobe walls were crumbling and the plate glass window was cracked. It’s amazing the building could stand at all.

  “You want to come with us?” Noah asked Mike.

  “No thanks. Walter’s not exactly the president of my fan club. He wouldn’t talk to Daisy or me if we paid him.”

  “Fingers crossed he talks to us,” I said.

  “Miracles can always happen. Call me from the pay phone when you’re ready to be picked up.” Mike wrote his number on a paper scrap and handed it to me.

  “Thanks.” I stuffed it in my pocket and we piled out of the car. I tied the rope to Leroy’s collar.

  “By the way, if the old codger has the amber, he has to give it up willingly or the magic won’t work. Even magic has its rules.” Mike saluted and we watched his car putter back down the highway.

  We crossed the road to the gas station. It looked deserted. No cars were filling up with gas and nobody was working out front. We peered through the broken window into a small dingy office. A greasy jacket hung on a metal folding chair and Styrofoam cups were strewn around the desk.

  “Hello! Anybody here?” I called.

  “Hey, check it out. The coffee’s still hot.” Noah pointed to the cup by the phone. Curls of steam rose in the air.

  Kabang! Kabang! Kabang!

  “What the heck?” The sound was so loud it made my ears ring.

  “It’s coming from out back,” Violet said.

  We followed her behind the gas station. Next to a rusty doublewide trailer propped up on bricks stood a man in overalls.

  I took one look at him and froze. “Guys, he has a gun!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Outfoxing Walter Brinker

  Rapid fire, the man shot his BB gun at a line-up of tin cans.

  Kabang! Kabang! Kabang!

  “Bet that’s him. Come on.” Violet started in his direction.

  I grabbed her arm. “No way! Do you want to get shot?”

  There’s not a lot I’m scared of, although if I were making a list, guns would be at the very top.

  Kabang! Kabang! Kabang!

  Leroy growled and pulled so hard on his rope leash that it yanked from my hand. He hightailed back toward the gas station.

  “Leroy, sit!” I commanded.

  He dropped his butt on the dirt, missing a spiky cactus by an inch.

  At the sound of my voice, the man whirled around. Even though he was round as a dumpling, his oily overalls were two sizes too big. His dirty brown hair was slicked to the side by its own grease. Cinched around his waist was a black fanny pack.

  “You got no business bein’ here if you’re not buyin’ gas.” He aimed his BB gun at our feet and spat on the dirt.

  Leroy slinked to my side and I grabbed his collar. He let out a snarl and the man turned his gun on him.

  I took a deep breath. “Please sir, don’t shoot my dog. He’s nervous around loud noises.”

  “It’s only a dang BB gun. Now git that dog to clap his trap.”

  I shushed Leroy and he cowered between my legs.

  “What do you little varmint stains want?” His voice sounded even growlier than Leroy’s.

  “Um, are you Walter Brinker?” I had to force my voice above a whisper.

  “That’s me. Who’s askin’?”

  “I’m Madison McGee. These are my friends, Violet and Noah.”

  Walter stared at us and said nothing.

  “Uh, I wanted to tell you that’s a really cool fanny pack you’re wearing. I bet you find a lot of great stuff in there.” I was hoping I could butter him up.

  Walter snorted. “Yeah right. I wish.” Which made me wonder if something might be wrong with his pack. “Who sent you here anyway?” His beady eyes squinted into slits.

  “Nobody. We’re here because we need your help.”

  “What kinda help? You’re too young to drive so you can’t be lookin’ to fix a flat tire.”

  “We’re trying to find a piece of ancient amber,” Noah told him.

  “One with a dead frog in it,” Violet added.

  “Then you’re sniffin’ in the wrong hole. Now why don’t all of you git before my trigger finger gets itchy?”

  The three of us backed off fast, but Leroy had something else in mind. He spotted a jackrabbit and pulled from my grasp. With a yelp, he streaked straight past the house and across the desert in hot pursuit.

  “That mutt of yours is so dumb he couldn’t teach a hen to cluck. Go git him and then git home.”

  Walter stomped over to a copper-colored van parked beside his doublewide. He reached through the window and pulled out a rifle. A real gun. With real bullets. Like the kind that can kill you in a single shot. He slammed the gun’s butt hard on the dirt and fired us another death stare.

  “Sorry, please don’t shoot,” I cried before racing around to the back of the trailer. I charged deep into the desert, calling for Leroy.

  When Leroy finally lost sight of the rabbit and gave up the chase, he trotted back to me. I grabbed his rope leash, tied a strong loop, and slipped it over my wrist. Together we hurried toward Walter’s trailer. A glint in the window caught my eye.

  “Come on, boy,” I whispered.

  We crept closer. That’s when I heard the front door slam. Walter was inside.

  My knees shook as I crouched below the window. What I saw made me gasp. A smooth nugget of golden amber on the sill shimmered in the sunlight. Trapped inside was a tiny dead frog.

  Pulling Leroy on the rope, I raced to the front of the trailer, straight to Violet and Noah.

  “I found it! The amber’s inside his house!”

  Next thing I knew, Violet was pounding on the front door.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “Getting it back.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Noah.

  Violet knocked until her knuckles turned red. I crossed my fingers that all that knocking wouldn’t bug Walter so much that he’d yell at us, or worse. In the end, he refused to answer the door.

  We headed back to the front of the gas station to hatch a plan.

  Noah noticed the long rubber hose stretched on the asphalt in front of the gas tanks. “Wow. You don’t see those old things every day. You know what? If a car drives over that hose it’ll ding. Then Walter will have to come out.”

  “Boy genius at work,
” said Violet.

  We leaned against the gas pumps and waited almost an hour for someone to pull into the station. We counted eighty-eight cars and every single one of them zipped on by.

  “This is getting boring,” Violet complained.

  “Super boring,” I agreed. It was time to take matters into my own hands. Or, make that my own feet. I got up and jumped on the rubber hose, trying to coax out a ding.

  No luck.

  “You don’t weigh enough,” Noah pointed out.

  So the three of us positioned our feet on the hose.

  “One. Two. Three. Jump!” Violet chanted.

  We jumped.

  Nothing.

  We tried again.

  Zero, zippo, zilch.

  “We could hold something heavy,” Noah suggested.

  We scanned the area around the gas station. The weight of the empty cans and bottles littering the ground wouldn’t have added up to a bag of beans.

  “How about Leroy?” I asked. My dog wasn’t gigantic, but he was brick solid.

  “Great idea,” Violet agreed. The two of us hoisted him up, his round belly straddling our arms. “He’s heavy,” she grunted. “Let’s do this quick.”

  Noah counted to three and we all jumped.

  DING!

  After a few minutes Walter swaggered up, expecting a customer. The second he spotted us I could hear him grumble.

  It wasn’t the pleading looks on our faces or even Leroy’s smile that flipped Walter’s switch. It was Noah. “Mr. Brinker, how’s that fanny pack working for you? Giving you everything you need?”

  “What do you know about it, boy?” Walter sneered and narrowed his eyes.

  “Not much. But Madison does. Give us ten minutes of your time. You never know. You might learn as much from us as we do from you. Ten minutes. That’s all we’re asking.”

  Walter peered at us, one by one. “OK, crumb-crunchers. You can come in. But don’t be expectin’ no miracles.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Let’s Make a Deal

  Deer heads and old guns decorated the walls of Walter’s wood-paneled living room. They gave me the creeps. Over a potbelly woodstove hung a framed saying stitched in needlepoint: Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and then. On a bookshelf stood a silver-framed photograph of a teenaged couple dressed for the prom. Next to it was a neat stack of books by Louis L’Amour. By the looks of them, they were all stories about cowboys. Even though the room was crammed with stuff, everything had its place.