I sighed and tucked the book under my arm as I ran out to the car.
“What are you reading?” Andy asked a few minutes later.
“The Best Day Ever.” I showed him the cover.
“Is it a mystery?”
I shook my head.
“Fantasy? Sci-fi?”
I shook my head again.
“What’s it about then?”
I shrugged. “I’m only on the first page. So far, it’s not about much.”
“Then why’d you bring it in the car if it’s not even good enough to tell me about?”
“It’s for Independent Reader,” I answered, as though that explained everything. Andy loved to read as much as I did, and usually we liked the same books.
He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “You picked it because it’s for Independent Reader, even if it stinks?”
“Well, I don’t know that for sure yet. It’s worth three points, and I need to read two books this weekend if I want to get near first place.”
“First place?” Dad piped in from the front seat. “Whatever happened to reading for fun? All I ever hear about lately is points, points, points!”
“Well, I think it’s great,” Mom said. “If this reading program motivates you to read more, Pansy, then there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yeah,” I said, glad to have Mom on my side. “But it’s not going to be easy catching up with Daniel.”
“Why do you even care?” Andy asked. “You never cared about it before.”
I’m doing it for Anna! I wanted to shout. But they wouldn’t get it at all.
“I can do it,” I finally said. “A lot of people might not believe it, but I think I can make it to first place.”
“Of course you can do it!” Dad said, and everyone else chimed in. “That’s not what anyone was trying to say.”
“How’s Anna doing?” Mom asked Andy, changing the subject as I started to dig into the book, which wasn’t very interesting after all.
I looked over at Andy. He had that uncomfortable look on his face again, the one he always had whenever anyone mentioned Anna. “She’s okay.”
“Tell your mom I found a high-protein milkshake for that new diet Anna’s on,” Mom said. “I’ve tried it, and it’s delicious.”
“What new diet?” I asked.
“Anna has to eat lots of protein,” Andy said. “Like egg whites and cream and liver.”
“Liver?” I wrinkled up my nose. “Yuck!”
“It’s supposed to help with her seizures,” Mom said.
“She has to eat a lot of gross stuff,” Andy said.
“Does she like it?” I asked Andy.
He shrugged. “She eats it. It doesn’t smell too good, that’s for sure.”
I nodded. Anna was tougher and way braver than me, even now.
Andy leaned over and whispered to me, “I’ve been having dreams that Anna is talking to me.”
“What does she say?” I whispered back.
“I can’t remember exactly. But she did say, ‘I’m right here.’”
“Anna’s trying to tell you that she knows what’s going on!” I said, forgetting to whisper. “That she understands everything!”
Andy nodded again. Then he smiled. I was bursting to ask him about the surgery, since he still hadn’t mentioned it. But I needed to wait until we weren’t within earshot of my parents.
I snapped my book shut. For the rest of the ride, we played The Alphabet Game, The License Plate Game, and Count the Cows. I won all three, so maybe I was closer to being extraordinary than I thought.
“I brought my notebook,” Andy said after we finished the second round of The Alphabet Game. He turned to a page with the words ZERACLOP CITY at the top. My heart raced. The words were written in Anna’s handwriting.
“I think we should build it,” Andy said. “I’ve added some new sketches.”
I stared down at the first page full of sketches that Anna, Andy, and I had come up with right before The Big Fight. Anna’s the one who came up with the name “Zeraclop,” but a lot of the detailed ideas were mine. Andy and I had played with LEGO bricks together all summer, building all kinds of things. But this was the first time either of us had mentioned Zeraclop.
Andy flipped to the page with his new sketches and started talking away about his new plans. He was right. We should build it, for Anna. Her eyes would light up when she saw how hard we’d worked.
I got caught up in the plans, and before I knew it, we had arrived at Stone Mountain.
We stopped at the map board to look at our trail choices. The hiking routes ranged from moderate to strenuous.
“So, what do you think?” Dad asked us. “Is anyone up for the Stone Mountain Loop?”
I looked at the red lines on the map and the key: 4.5 miles of hiking described as “more difficult.” I looked over at Andy. He grinned just as I did.
“I want to see the waterfalls!” we both said at the same time. The one-mile loop to the lower and middle falls had always been Anna’s favorite, too.
“I think the kids have the right idea,” Mom agreed. “That will leave time for us to visit the homestead afterward.”
“Looks like I’ve been outvoted,” Dad said as we started on the trail.
My feet crunched on dead leaves as we made our way through the woods, crossing a run-down bridge over a small stream.
“Hey, let’s play Poohsticks,” I said. Andy and I both grabbed sticks and threw them over on one side of the bridge. Then we ran to the other side and watched to see whose stick would come out first. We’d been playing the game together since we first came to Stone Mountain back in preschool. Anna had always picked just the right kind of sticks, the ones that had enough weight to get past the rocks but weren’t so heavy that they’d get stuck.
“Hey, look,” Andy said as both sticks sailed past us on the sparkling water, side by side. “It’s a tie!”
We played a little while longer until Dad told us to move on. After a few more minutes on the wooded path, we came to a clearing. Another path cut through a meadow full of wildflowers, tall grasses, and brightly colored butterflies. We’d picked the perfect day for hiking. The sky was clear and blue, the sun was just the right amount of hot, and a cool breeze blew back my hair and ruffled through my shirt.
“Remember when we came last fall?” I asked Andy. “It was really hot, and by the time we got to the waterfalls, we all wanted to jump in.”
“Yeah,” Andy said. “It was about 110 degrees, but we thought it would be cooler here—”
“But it wasn’t. We were burning up. Your mom brought frozen water bottles so we could stay cool, remember?”
Andy nodded.
“We had a lot of fun,” I said, “even though I thought we might get heatstroke.” I giggled. When Andy didn’t laugh, too, I looked over at him. His jaw was set firmly as though he was concentrating hard on the trail ahead.
I thought about how both of our families had always gone on day trips together, but everything was so different now. You couldn’t push a wheelchair on a trail in the mountains.
“It’s too bad your parents couldn’t have come with us,” I said.
Andy shrugged and looked at the ground.
In the spring they’ll come with us, I wanted to say. And Anna will win Poohsticks, like always, and she’ll be the first one down the steps to the falls.
But I kept my words inside. Maybe I was afraid to say them out loud, afraid they would just disappear as soon as they were out of my mouth—as if by telling someone else how I felt, I might keep my hopes from coming true.
We continued to walk in silence, deep in our own thoughts. Soon we could hear the waterfalls ahead. Andy’s the one who ran past me this time, the first one to the stone steps that took us down to the Lower Falls.
Roped off beside us, rushing water ran over huge rocks. A sign warned us that if anyone crossed over the ropes, it could lead to “imminent death.”
A chill ran up
and down as I remembered the way Anna used to lean over the ropes more than she should have, laughing about the sign. Her parents always had to tell her to step back, warning her about the danger.
I was always the most careful about keeping my distance.
I followed Andy down the steps with my parents right behind us. The water roared in my ears once we got to the bottom. We stopped, watching the clear water cascade over the rocks, splashing and frothing its way into a deep pool at the bottom.
“Wow. I’d almost forgotten how it takes your breath away.” Mom pulled out her camera to snap some pictures.
The rest of us did the same. Then I put my camera down and stood there, almost hypnotized as the water moved with a power of its own, tumbling over the rocks. I didn’t want to leave, but when Mom told us it was time for lunch, my stomach started rumbling, and I realized I was starving.
We headed back up the steps and finished the loop, setting up our picnic in a shady spot. As I bit into my pimento cheese sandwich, I heard a rustle in the woods behind me.
I turned to see a deer standing on the other side of the path. “Look! Oh, she’s beautiful!”
“There’s more of them, right behind her.” Andy got up from the picnic table and stepped closer to the path.
I tiptoed next to him. There were four of them now, the ones in the back moving slowly and quietly through the woods. The one in the front—the one I noticed first—stood perfectly still.
I sucked in my breath. The doe was almost magical, like something out of a fantasy book. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she sprouted wings and flew up into the sky.
“Wow . . .” The deer stared back at me with big eyes. Eyes that reminded me of Anna’s. Somehow, I felt in my heart that Anna knew what was going on, even if no one else could tell, and she knew she was going to get better. It was something you couldn’t explain with words—it was something you had to just believe.
I glanced over at Andy, remembering how he’d told me about his dream where Anna had spoken to him.
I knew that Andy believed. And so did I.
The deer moved her head and blinked. Then she turned and, with a few graceful leaps, she was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
Ten Weeks, Four Days
I stared at the computer screen at school Monday morning after my score was posted. I couldn’t believe it. I blinked and stared again. The number was still there. A 60. I’d almost flunked the test for The Best Day Ever!
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I waited until Sunday to read the book, and it was boring as can be. I daydreamed during the really slow parts, and I stayed up too late trying to finish it.
My feet dragged as I walked to my seat before the bell rang. I glanced over at Daniel, who grinned at me. There’s no way he scored anything as low as a 60 on either of his tests. It was time to face facts: it was almost impossible to beat Daniel. If I wanted to take over the lead, I needed a plan.
I thought about it all through morning math class, even while Miss Quetzel handed out our fractions worksheet. The paper looked like it was for second or third graders because of the drawings. At the top was an image of bunnies eating pizza.
But just because the worksheet looked easy didn’t mean I knew how to answer any of the questions.
I was staring down at the silly bunnies when it hit me. Pictures! I would check out a picture book every day along with a novel. I’d be more careful in choosing good novels, and then I’d find a picture book that I could read in ten minutes. I’d rack up five extra points, maybe more, each week!
Daniel didn’t walk around at recess reading books for little kids, so I’d be sure to beat him. For a second I felt a pang of guilt. Was it cheating if I earned more points by reading easy books?
I glanced over in Daniel’s direction. He sat hunched over his desk, his dark hair flopping down over his forehead and across his eyes the way it often did. Something about the way he was sitting, his chin resting on his hand as he leaned forward, made me suspicious.
I took a closer look, spotting the open book propped up inside his desk.
Well! If Daniel Walker could rack up points when he was supposed to be learning about fractions, then I could certainly read a few picture books in my spare time without feeling guilty.
Andy kicked me under my desk. I jumped. “What?”
Andy pointed in Miss Quetzel’s direction.
“Oh,” I mumbled under my breath. Then I sat up tall in my seat and looked straight at Miss Quetzel. “Can you please repeat the question?”
I heard some snorts and snickers behind me. Zach, no doubt, who never knew the answers when he was called on. And maybe Hannah, too, who thought she knew all the answers.
“I asked you how many pieces would be left if the bunnies ate one-third of the pizza?”
I hesitated. Since I hadn’t been listening to most of the fractions lesson, I didn’t have a clue as to the answer. If I gave the wrong answer to such a simple question, I definitely wouldn’t be extraordinary at all.
But maybe there was a way out. I studied the picture. Three little ducklings waddled in the background. “Um, none, Miss Quetzel. Because of those ducklings over there. They would wipe out the rest of the pieces.”
The class burst into laughter. It wasn’t the making-fun-of-you kind, either. Luckily, Miss Quetzel looked like she was trying hard to keep from smiling, too. “I suppose that’s possible. Well, all this talk about pizza reminds me it’s time for snack. Finish the worksheet for homework tonight,” she said over the slamming of books and chatter as everyone prepared for a break. “I expect mathematically correct answers, whether they are logical or not. Does everyone understand? Pansy, that includes you.”
I nodded. That joke had just rolled off my tongue. Even if it wasn’t the best joke in the world, it had kept everyone from knowing that I wasn’t paying attention. I glanced over at Andy. He was staring at me, his eyebrows wrinkled as if he were thinking hard.
“What?” I asked as I shoved my book into my desk and pulled out my snack.
“I was wondering . . . I know ducks eat stale bread if you toss it at them. But they don’t really eat pizza, do they?”
“Well, bunnies don’t eat pizza, either. Ducks would probably like it more than rabbits would.”
Andy shook his head. “It would probably make them sick. You know, like those signs at the park that read, ‘Don’t feed the ducks.’ It gives them upset stomachs. That’s why there’s duck poop all over the park.” He raised one eyebrow at me. “You might have even landed in some of that duck poop when you were skating around the lake.”
I rolled my eyes. Andy knew I’d been joking when I answered the math question, that I didn’t really think bunnies or ducks would eat pizza. But here he was, trying to let me know he thought I’d said something really stupid. Why couldn’t he have just said, “Great joke, Pansy. If it weren’t for you, we’d be doing math until lunchtime”?
“I did not land in any duck poop,” I said a little louder than I planned.
I heard a giggle behind me.
“Hey,” Madison said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Is it true that ducks eat pizza?”
I turned around. “If it has anchovies on it, they’ll eat it.”
Madison giggled again. Andy scowled. What was with him these days? Well, if he wanted to be grouchy about the whole thing, that was his problem. I turned to Madison and offered her some of my yogurt-covered pretzels.
“Yum,” Madison said, reaching for a handful. “How’d you know they’re my favorite?”
“They’re my favorite, too!” I said, popping some into my mouth. Andy took his snack out of his desk, turning away from both of us as he bit into an apple.
I turned back to Madison, who was telling me about the pet bunny she hoped her parents would buy her for her birthday.
“The kind with the floppy ears?” I asked her.
“They’re called lop-ear bunnies,” Madison said. “I don’t care what color it
is, as long as it has long ears. I’m going to train mine to use the litter box, and I’ll let her run around my room. She can even sleep in my bed.”
“I wish I could have a lop-ear bunny, too,” I told her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ten Weeks, Two Days
I’m going to Andy’s!” I called to Mom as I rushed back out of the house after school with an armful of supplies for Zeraclop City. I was surprised when Andy asked me on the way home if I wanted to come over, especially after the way he’d acted that morning. I figured it was his way of apologizing, so I jumped at the chance to work on Zeraclop City, even though I needed to practice my skating and I had a seven-point book to read.
I ran the whole way to the Liddells’, then knocked my special knock on their front door: KNOCK KNOCK knock tap.
“Hi, Pansy,” Mrs. Liddell greeted me. “We haven’t seen you around here in a while.”
“I know. I’ve been busy with school and stuff.” I glanced around the living room. “Where’s Anna?”
“She’s resting,” Mrs. Liddell said. “She has a bronchial infection, so it’s probably best if you don’t visit right now.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about germs,” I said, heading down the hall. Mom always told me I had the immune system of an Olympic athlete, which meant I didn’t get sick very often.
But Mrs. Liddell followed and caught my arm as I was about to enter Anna’s room. “We’re trying not to expose her to any extra germs,” she said. “The doctor wants her to build up her strength over the next few months.”
I paused and turned to face her. “Because of the surgery?”
Mrs. Liddell nodded. “Your mom told you it’s for the seizures?”
I avoided her eyes. “Um, yeah. She said it would help.”
“Well, the doctors are certainly hopeful.”
I liked the word hopeful, but I didn’t tell Mrs. Liddell that. Instead I peeked inside Anna’s room. She was lying in bed, her eyes half-closed. Her thick copper hair fanned out over a white pillow. A Disney movie was playing on the television, but she wasn’t watching it.
“Hi, Anna,” I called to her softly.
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