Hello There, Do You Still Know Me?

by Arnold, Laurie B. ;

  It was freaky being inside. Even though most of the furniture was different, the house was the same. I had an instant rush of memories. The day I’d arrived after my mom died. How lonely I’d felt. Zapping into the MegaPix for the very first time. It was even odder to think that although they were my memories, none of those things would happen for a long, long time.

  When I first spotted Florida, I’m sure I looked as if I’d seen a ghost. She sat on the flowery sofa. Her hair was jet black and HUGE, like she’d jammed her finger in a light socket and her hairdo had exploded in a zillion different directions. Beneath it all she looked just like herself, only younger.

  I got a lump in my throat picturing her on her deathbed in Costa Rica. My friends and I are doing our best to save you, I thought.

  Florida watched TV while my Grandpa Jack sat on an easy chair with his back to us, flipping through the newspaper.

  I fought the urge to jump into his lap.

  “Ever since we got cable, my mother’s been totally into the shopping channels,” my mom whispered to me.

  “Watch out. Those things can get addicting,” I said.

  She shrugged. “At least it keeps her out of my hair.”

  Then I remembered what Rosalie Claire had said about not messing with anything that could change the future. If Florida didn’t become addicted to the shopping shows, then we never would have gotten the MegaPix, I wouldn’t have met Noah, or met my mom as a kid. And I definitely would not be standing in this spot in the living room, almost twenty years in the past.

  When a commercial came on, Florida looked up. “Well, who do we have here?” She plastered on a 500-megawatt smile.

  Grandpa Jack glanced at us over his shoulder for just a second and grinned. He still had the same bushy mustache. He went back to reading his paper.

  It felt strange that my grandparents didn’t know me, but how could they, considering it was way back in 1994 and I hadn’t even been born yet? I did my best to pretend I’d never seen them before. I’m sure my smile was as phony as my grandmother’s.

  “They’re on a scavenger hunt,” my mom said. “I thought we could help out.”

  “I suppose we can.” Florida smoothed her enormous hair.

  That’s when Leroy forgot he was supposed to stay by the front door. My mom must not have closed it all the way and he burst into the living room, flinging himself back and forth between Florida and Grandpa Jack, more enthusiastically than when he’d chased the rabbit. His nose twitched and he licked them like they were covered in chicken grease.

  Florida screamed. “Get that hairy beast out of my house this instant!”

  This was definitely not part of The Plan.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Grandpa Jack’s Key

  Florida gave Leroy a mighty shove off the sofa.

  “Go!” she ordered as she brushed his stray white fur from her red polka-dot blouse.

  “The dog’s only bein’ friendly, cupcake.” Grandpa Jack chuckled as he wiped a string of Leroy’s slime from his cheek. “Maybe you’d best wait in the backyard, little fella.” He patted Leroy’s head.

  “Sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll take him out.” I had so much apology in my voice that I could see the anger begin to melt from Florida’s face.

  “Fine.” She checked her make-up mirror, examining how much blush my dog had licked clean.

  I led him outside. He made himself comfortable on the chaise lounge on the patio. Leroy grinned ear-to-ear, happy to curl up in his favorite napping spot.

  When I came back in, Florida was touching up her hair while Grandpa Jack read over our list.

  “You.” Florida pointed to me after she finished with her hairdo. “Do you know that you and Angela look almost like sisters?”

  Gulp.

  “Not really,” Angela said. “Her eyes are blue and my nose is pointy like Daddy’s.”

  “Tell me Madison, does your mother fuss about your hair? It’s straight as a stick. Just like Angela’s.” Florida sighed as if that might be the worst tragedy in the world.

  “My mom likes my hair. It’s just like hers.”

  “See? Some mothers like their kids just the way they are,” my mom told Florida.

  “That’s enough, Angela.” Florida gave my mom the “knock-it-off-look” I knew so well.

  “You kids gettin’ excited about Fiesta?” Grandpa Jack asked.

  “You bet we are,” Violet said.

  “Well, you simply can’t miss the parade. Angela and I will be wearing the most divine sequined tightrope walker outfits.” Florida tossed her head, movie star-style.

  “That’s what you think,” my mom said through gritted teeth.

  Florida glared at her with a tight smile. “That’s what I know, Angela Jane. And you have nothing more to say in the matter.”

  Wow, my mom and Florida sure were nasty to each other.

  “So, uh, do you have anything that’s on our list?” Violet asked my Grandpa Jack.

  “Lemme see. I’m sure Florida’s got herself at least a half dozen purple hairnets she can spare. In fact, she probably has some in every color of the rainbow.” He stood up to go find one.

  “You sit right down, Mr. Jack Brown. I won’t have you poking through my things. I’ll do it.” She bustled toward the bathroom.

  “Can I see the list, Daddy?” my mom asked.

  “Sure, honeybunch.” He handed it over. My mom’s eyes flew straight to the bottom of the page.

  “Daddy? We might have a key like that, maybe in your top dresser drawer?”

  Grandpa Jack stared at my mom. “Angie, how do you know about that key?”

  “Actually, I saw it tonight. I was looking for one of my missing socks that I thought might be in your sock drawer.”

  Wow, she’d found it?! My insides bubbled with happiness.

  “I can go grab it,” she said.

  My grandpa pulled at his black bushy moustache for a long while and then shrugged. “Might as well. It’s of no use to me.”

  While she ran to my grandparents’ bedroom, I asked him what the key opened. I was curious about Grandpa’s side of Walter’s story.

  “It’s for a storage unit in town,” he explained. “That key was a booby prize in a poker game I played way back when Angie was knee-high to a cricket. By now I guess the sorry fella I won it from has given up thinkin’ about it. If he ever shows up with the money he owes me, I’m sure my buddy Jerry who owns the place will give the fella a new key.”

  My mom raced back into the living room, her hand clutched tight.

  On her heels was Florida, who must have spent extra time in the bathroom beautifying herself. Her cheeks were streaked pink with fresh blush and her dark hair had been sprayed into a poufy helmet. In one hand she held a purple hairnet. In the other was something pink and sparkly.

  “Angela Jane Brown, you tell me this instant why I just found your Fiesta costume at the bottom of the bathroom trash.”

  My mom ignored her and opened her hand.

  “Ta-da!” she said, revealing Walter’s key.

  Victory!

  “Young lady, you answer me when I’m talking to you.” Florida’s eyes were fiery.

  “Please, answer your mother, Angie.” Grandpa Jack sounded all worn out.

  “You found it there because that’s where that hunk of junk belongs. In. The. Trash. I’m not wearing that stupid thing to the parade. We’ve been over this a million times, Mother.” She glared at Florida.

  “You ungrateful child! Why can’t you be like my friends’ daughters? We went to a lot of trouble to find these and you’re the only one who isn’t tickled pink to have the privilege of wearing one.”

  “Where do you get your information? From the Lying Ladies of the Red Hot Mamas Liars’ Club? All the other kids hate it as much as I do. They’re just too scared to say so.”

  “Hit the mute button on your attitude, Angela,” Florida snapped.

  My mom stared at her feet and squeezed her eyes shut.
Was she going to cry?

  Florida forced her fakest smile. I know that smile well. I’d seen it so many times before.

  “Here’s an idea,” Florida suggested. “Why don’t you model your costume? These kids will tell you how fabulous it looks, won’t you, kids? Maybe then you’ll see the light.”

  My whole body squirmed with embarrassment for my poor mom. Violet, Noah, and I traded silent looks.

  “I’d rather eat dirt!” My mom began to cry. She ran to her room, the same one that would someday be mine. The door banged shut.

  She still had the key.

  Florida’s cheeks flushed even redder than they’d been from the blush.

  Grandpa Jack buried his head in his hands.

  “Uh, do you mind if we go get the key?” My voice sounded more like a mouse’s than a girl’s.

  “Suit yourself.” Florida sunk into the sofa and turned the TV volume on high.

  Violet, Noah, and I hurried down the hallway to my mom’s bedroom door. It wouldn’t take all of us to get that key, but no one wanted to stay in the same room with my ticked-off grandmother.

  I gently knocked.

  “Mom,” I whispered.

  Violet elbowed me in the back.

  Uh-oh. Major slip up. I had to think fast.

  “Mom … uh … your mom told us we could ask you for the key.” I prayed the door had muffled my mistake.

  There was no reply.

  “I don’t blame you for freaking out.” I’d said it loud enough for her to hear me through the door, but quiet enough so Florida couldn’t make out what I was saying over the blare of her shopping show.

  Next thing I knew, the key slid out through the bottom crack of the door.

  “Thanks,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

  My heart ached for my poor mom. And then, like a strike of lightning, I thought of something brilliant. Could I zap her back to Costa Rica with me? Then her life wouldn’t be so miserable. So what if she was only fourteen? She was still my mother—or would be someday—and there was a tie between us that was stronger than the summer sun. Was that too crazy to consider?

  If I brought her back to Costa Rica, would I poof out of existence? Was it worth taking a chance? Maybe everything would turn out fine and she could live with Rosalie Claire and Thomas, then I could see her during my vacations. Or I could move down there and we’d all live together. When it was time for her to go to college in San Francisco, I’d get the MegaPix back and play one of the documentary films she made when she was a student. Then she could just zap back to the time before she got together with my dad. All I’d have to do was to never, ever let it slip that she was going to grow up to be my mother. And then I would still be born.

  Even though Rosalie Claire warned us not to tinker with the past because it might change the future, I figured I might have to make an exception. I had some thinking to do.

  We headed back to the living room. We had to cross in front of Florida so we could open the sliding glass door to the patio where Leroy waited on the chaise lounge.

  My grandmother’s eyes stayed glued to the TV.

  “Don’t forget the hairnet.” Her voice was flat. She tossed the gauzy purple wad on the table.

  “Thanks so much, uh, Mrs. Brown,” I said.

  Violet snatched it and dropped it in the pillowcase. Then we left.

  By the skin of our teeth, Plan Scavenger Hunt had worked. And now I tingled with excitement for two reasons. Number one? Maybe I could zap my mom out of there and we’d be together again. And number two? We were getting closer to the magic amber. So close, in fact, that I could almost feel it cupped in the palm of my hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Mysterious Ring

  The next morning, I slipped on my backpack and Mike drove us to Walter’s. When we got out of the car, Leroy stayed in the backseat and looked at me with the saddest eyes. My dog has a sixth-sense about these things. He must have figured out he wasn’t coming with us, but we couldn’t risk making Walter crankier than he already was, and he clearly wasn’t fond of Leroy. As Mike drove away, Leroy stuck his head out the open window and yowled. But I wasn’t worried. I knew he’d be in safe hands with Mike and Grandma Daisy.

  We trudged behind the Shell station toward the doublewide trailer.

  “I say we don’t let Walter have the key until he hands over the amber. Even swap,” Violet said.

  Noah and I agreed, and we mounted the steps. I knocked three times on his front door. It creaked open and Walter stared down at us with a scowl.

  “Now ain’t this a fine howdy-do? I never thought I’d see the likes of you crumb-crunchers again. You have somethin’ for me? Or are you stoppin’ by to waste my time?”

  Something about Walter made me quake in my Keds, although I made myself look him straight in the eye. “We have what you asked for.”

  “And now we’d like the amber, thank you very much.” Violet stuck out her hand.

  Walter squinted as if he thought we were pulling a fast one. “Gimme a looksee.”

  Noah gave a quick nod. “Happy to give you the key, Mr. Brinker, but first we need the amber.”

  “You young’uns are ’bout as crazy as popcorn on a hot skillet. How do I know it’s the right key if I don’t take a look at it?”

  I guess he did have a point.

  “OK, then what if we take the key to the storage place and see if it works?” Noah suggested. “If it opens the lock, you give us the amber.”

  “Now that’s usin’ the ol’ noggin, boy. Wait here.” He shut the door and returned in a split second, jangling a hefty wad of keys and holding the amber, which he dropped into the pocket of his baggy overalls.

  “You rugrats can ride in the back of the van. It’s just a mile up the road.”

  He swung open the double doors. The inside was filthy with oily rags and rusty tools. Violet scrambled in.

  “We’ll meet you there. We’re walking. All three of us,” I told Walter.

  Violet looked at me as if I were nuts.

  Stranger danger, I mouthed to her when Walter had his back turned. I wanted to play it safe.

  Violet shrugged and crawled out of the van.

  “Suit yourself. See ya there.” Walter hopped into the driver’s seat and took off, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

  “What do you think he’s got stashed in there that’s such a big deal?” Noah asked as we walked up the road.

  Violet’s eyes glimmered. “I bet he’s got stolen jewels. Maybe he robbed a jewelry store.”

  Given how much he was in love with striking it rich, he could be hiding something like that. Whatever was in there, I had a hunch that inside that storage bin were some of Walter’s deepest, darkest secrets.

  The Big Lock-Up Storage Shed was a small cluster of green metal buildings surrounded by a chain link fence and vacant lots. Nothing grew around there except sagebrush and one lonely tree. Walter squatted on the back bumper of his copper van, chewing his nails.

  He pointed to number 14B. “Open ’er up,” he said.

  I slipped the key into the silver metal padlock and twisted. It didn’t budge.

  “I knew you kids were tryin’ to pull a fast one on me.”

  Uh-oh. What if we hadn’t gotten the right key after all?

  “Sheesh, don’t be such a Negative Nellie,” Violet told Walter. “It’s an old sticky lock. I saw some of that squirty stuff in the back of your van. Let’s try that.” She climbed in and returned with a can of WD-40.

  “My dad fixed my rusty bike lock with this.” She sprayed the lock until it dripped.

  “Now try,” she said.

  I slid the key back into the lock and turned. It clicked and sprung open.

  “Told you so.” Violet shot Walter a look.

  Noah held out his hand. “The amber, Mr. Brinker?”

  “Back off skunk-munchers. First I wanna rummage around and see if that scoundrel made off with anything.”

  “That wasn’t the deal,” I said
. I had a bad feeling about this.

  We watched Walter haul out a bunch of junk—scuffed-up tables with broken legs, a red chair with its stuffing oozing from a rip in the seat, and boxes wrinkled from water damage. No stolen jewels in sight.

  He pulled out a wooden stick horse with green marble eyes, its mane made from an old string mop.

  “Do you think Walter has kids?” Violet whispered to me.

  I wondered that too, so I asked him.

  “Kids? Nah. This here’s old Paw-Paw,” Walter told us. “When I was fetched up, we was so poor I had to ride double with my brother on that ol’ stick horse. It was a birthday present from my ma.”

  When he mentioned his mother, his lips pinched into a sad smile. I tried imagining Walter as a little kid, trotting around on that horse. I wondered if he was as bratty then as he was mean now.

  When every last scrap had been hauled out into the open, and he’d poked around through some of the boxes, Walter’s face turned stony. “Wouldn’t you know that son-of-a-badger took the only valuable thing in there? I shoulda known.” He kicked the side of his van with the pointy toe of his cowboy boot and left a small dent.

  “What are you missing?” I asked.

  “Nothin’,” he mumbled.

  “Can’t be nothing or you wouldn’t be so cranky,” Violet said, pointing out the obvious.

  Walter glared at her. “You’re a piece of work, little lady. And it’s none of your dang business.”

  “We can help you look for it if we know what it is,” I said.

  Walter snorted. “It’s a little bitty leather box. I needed what was inside to pay off some debts. You wanna look? Knock yourselves out. You ain’t gonna find it.”

  The three of us opened the boxes Walter hadn’t checked. We found yellowed newspaper clippings and photos curled at the edges. Noah pried open a metal trunk that had rusted shut on its hinges. Inside was a stack of chipped china dishes, but no small leather box.

  I slid open the drawer of a broken down end table. Inside at the very back I spied something.

  “Is this it?” I held up a tiny black jewelry box.