All night, bizarre dreams and nightmares wove together. There were trees with clawed branches, clouds that rained copper pennies, chickens with devil horns, ice cream avalanches.
“Rise and shine!” Dad said, poking his head into my bedroom.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the disturbing images out of my mind. I glanced at my clock. “Shouldn’t you be at work already?”
“I wanted to make sure you got off to school okay.”
It was nice to be noticed, but of all the days for him to finally pay attention, why did it have to be now? I needed him to leave so that I could sneak into his room and take a piece of jewelry.
I got dressed quickly and ran down to the kitchen where I scarfed a piece of toast and guzzled some juice for breakfast. I grabbed my books and homework, plus my lunch and softball glove, and zipped up my backpack. I’d clipped a brand new bell to the keychain and it sang beautifully, filling me with hope. “Bye, Dad!” I called over my shoulder.
“Wow! That was speedy.” He peered over the banister from the upstairs landing. “Have a good day!”
I waved, then dashed out the door. The sooner I got out of the house, the sooner he would too.
I almost stepped on Kira, who was sitting on my front porch. She was holding the large copper bell that we’d played catch with. In the daylight, it was blindingly shiny with a faint bluish-green patina. “Ring-a-ling! Bell buddy! Happy Monday!” She jumped up and tossed me the bell. It sounded like glass raindrops on a tin roof.
I caught it and hissed, “Shhhh!” I stuffed the bell into my bag.
“What? There’s no one around.”
“My dad’s upstairs. Keep a lid on it.” I grabbed her arm and pulled her around the house and behind the workshop.
“We had so much fun the other night. What’s up with you today?” She wriggled free.
“I need you to cover for me. I’m not going to school. Not yet.”
“Where are you going? The hospital?”
I glanced over my shoulder. “No, I’m going back inside. I just have to wait until my dad leaves the house.”
She frowned. “You’re going to break into your own house?”
“Not break in. I have a key. I need to find something. Something to plant.”
“A seed! Fun!” she shouted, then clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Can I help?”
“It would be too suspicious if we’re both missing from school. Your mom would get a call from Principal Tam and then the whole plan would be shot.”
“True. We need to be . . .” She bit her lip. “Inconspicuous! That’s the word!”
“Sure, call it whatever you want.” My watch beeped. “The bus will be here soon.”
“What should I tell the teachers? They’re going to wonder where you are.”
“Just make up some excuse. But don’t mention my sister, okay? The teachers know what’s going on with my family, but none of the other kids do. I’d rather keep it that way.”
“Got it,” Kira said.
“I should be there by third period.” I looked up at the house. Dad seemed extra pokey today, or maybe I was just extra impatient.
“I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. It’s kind of cool. Like we’re on this secret mission, and there’s intrigue and adventure and . . .”
“Kira.”
“Yeah?”
“The bus.” I tapped my watch.
She nodded. “Right. Going now.”
“Oh! One more thing—”
She turned. “What?”
“I need you to help me at softball practice today.” I scratched my neck. “I sort of have to start in the opening game.” I tried to act like it was no big deal.
She blinked. “Start? Really?”
“Don’t look so skeptical!”
“I’m not. It’s just . . . well . . . you’ve missed some practices and there are other girls on the team.” My face fell. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great. We’ll figure something out.” She patted my arm. “Besides, we have our new hand signals. Those should help.” She offered a high five. I returned it reluctantly.
The bus chugged down the hill.
“Later gator,” I said.
Her eyes brightened. “To the bus, octopus! Good luck with the super secret mission.” She took off running, her hair flying wildly behind her.
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
***
I hid behind the workshop until Dad’s car rumbled away in a plume of dust. Then I crept around the yard and tiptoed onto the porch. I pulled the key from the little red pouch in my backpack. Since Junie’s diagnosis, I’d gotten used to coming and going by myself, but when I unlocked the door that morning, I felt like an intruder in my own home. My plan did involve a little thievery, but I preferred to think of it as borrowing. Borrowing that would pay serious dividends. Hopefully.
I scaled the staircase in a few ninja-quick bounds and ducked into my parents’ bedroom. The jewelry box sat on the dresser. I opened it and searched for the perfect item. Unfortunately everything looked dingy and tarnished. The bracelets were missing beads, the necklace chains were tangled. I couldn’t find the strand of pearls or the fancy earrings from the photograph. Maybe Mom had borrowed them for the occasion? Or maybe she’d already started to sell our valuables to help pay the bills? Except for sentimental value, the remaining jewelry looked fairly worthless. Great. That’s just what we needed growing in our backyard: a sparkling junk tree. Almost as appealing as a homework tree. I thought I might find Junie’s lost wishing pin in there, but I had no luck with that either.
I sat on the bed in a swath of sunshine to think. The house was quiet, waiting to see what I might come up with. But it wasn’t totally silent. It took me a few minutes to recognize the faint tick-tick-tick.
I followed the sound. I opened a drawer in the bedside table. My father’s antique wristwatch lay inside. Just like my leather glove, the gold watch had originally belonged to my grandfather, Isaac Arnold Fitzwilken. I knew the watch was special because Dad only wore it on important occasions. The soft ticking almost sounded like purring. Its delicate golden hands were set at ten and two, like a smile. I picked it up and turned it over. Inscribed on the back were the initials IAF. Which also happened to be my initials. A sign. That I should take it. That I was meant to have it. I felt a tiny tug of guilt, but that disappeared completely when I thought about my sister, the towering pile of bills, and everything my parents had said in the hospital.
***
I bolted through the orchard and into the clearing at record speed. I skidded to a stop at the base of the tree. Several brown buds studded the tips of the branches like miniature fists. This was very odd because Kira and I hadn’t planted anything after the bell harvest. And then I remembered . . .
That squirrel! I bet that greedy little rascal planted some sort of nut in the ground after we left. I was so annoyed that I stamped my foot on the ground. The tree shook, its bark shifting from luminous sage green to flat gray. The veins that ran through the crystal leaves darkened.
I gripped the watch in my right hand. I’d never planted a new seed while something else was ripening, but this couldn’t wait. I bent over to dig a hole near the base of the trunk. The ground was cold. The branches flinched and writhed, like the entire tree wanted to get away from me. A smell like vinegar mixed with bitter orange peel burned my nose. My eyes watered. The bark rippled. Tiny prickles emerged, the thorns sending a clear message: Stay away!
I stumbled backward, scowling at the tree. Then I stood and stomped my foot in the grass once more. “Fine,” I said, returning the watch to my backpack. “I can take a hint. But I hope you know what you’re doing.” I stormed away. “I’m depending on you.”
Chapter 22
I walked to school, still fuming. I usually loved the tree’s unpredictability, but today it infuriated me. To make matters worse, every time a car approached, I had to dive into hedges and ditches to avoid being seen. Not fun at all.
The vehicle approached from behind, its exhaust like breath down the back of my neck. It rumbled past.
Phew. Close call.
Then it stopped.
I kept my head down. My foot started an anxious tap dance.
The vehicle reversed. And parked itself right in front of me. I wished for true invisibility.
I was so busted.
“Where to, darlin’?”
“Reggie?” I looked up. The 83 bus and its friendly driver greeted me with an open door and a wide smile.
“This isn’t a school bus, but it looks like you need a ride.” Tufts of sandy hair glinted beneath his cap, golden as the watch.
“I can walk.”
“So can I, darlin’. You want an award or something?” He winked.
“No,” I said, trying not to sound as cranky as I felt.
“Good, because I don’t have one. All I can offer is a ride. Right on back to school. Where I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I don’t have any money.”
“This one’s on the house.” He pressed a button and a little paper ticket emerged from the box on his dash. He handed it to me.
“Really?”
“As long as you don’t stand there dillydallyin’ a minute more. You know I like to keep my schedule running lickety-split.”
At least I wouldn’t have to dive into any more hedges. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” I stuffed the ticket in my pocket and landed in the nearest seat. The bus was empty. “Where is everyone?”
“I’m just coming off my break. Saw you walking by yourself during school hours and figured I’d take a detour. You live on Drabbington?”
I looked down the sunny, inviting cul de sac. “No. Sometimes I wish I did.”
“Not important where you live, as long as you’re with your loved ones.” He shifted the bus into gear and eased away from the curb.
“Reggie, I wasn’t skipping school, just so you know. I had some . . . important family business to take care of.”
He glanced in the mirror and gave me a little nod. He turned the wheel. “Next stop, Miss Muriel. She’ll be waiting for us by her garden.”
A few minutes later, we stopped in front of a grove of flowering magnolias ringed with tulips in every shade imaginable. Muriel stepped aboard. Her white-blue hair was swept in a loose spiral around her head, like cotton candy. She handed Reggie a cream-colored magnolia blossom instead of coins. He placed it on his dash and gave her a ticket.
“Hi, Muriel,” I said, wondering what delicious spice she might smell like this morning.
“Ah, hello there,” she said, her voice as crackly sweet as peanut brittle. “I would’ve brought you a flower, too, if I’d known you’d be here. Reginald adores them, don’t you?”
“You know I’d rather ride a tractor than this bus, Miss Muriel. But your pretty flowers help. They make me feel like I’m driving outside again, where my heart wants to be.”
“Your heart will find its place and its peace someday, Reginald. Don’t you worry.” Then she looked at me. “Usually I’m the very first pickup. Where’d you come from, honey?”
Where to start? It was a list nine cities long . . .
“Found this one by the side of the road,” Reggie called over his shoulder.
“A stray.” She patted my knee with her hand. A map of veins ran this way and that under her skin, thin and almost transparent, like crepe paper.
“I’m not a stray.” Although I did feel like one lately. “I’m just late for school. Reggie’s giving me a ride. That’s all.”
“Where’s your mama and papa?” Muriel asked tenderly.
“My dad’s at work. My mom is visiting my sister. Then she might go looking for a job.”
“A job? Hear that, Reginald? Her mama’s looking for work. I’m trying to get rid of work. Life has a way of balancing itself out, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does, Miss Muriel. Sure does.”
“Tell me, what kind of job is your mama looking for?”
“She used to make pastries for restaurants and cafés. She was the best.” Why was I speaking in the past tense? “I’m sure she still is. She’s just out of practice.”
“Mmhmm.”
“She used to smell like you,” I said. “Like spices. Cinnamon, and . . .” I inhaled deeply. “Cardamom? Maybe nutmeg too? Plus a note of magnolia, but that must be from your garden, not your kitchen.”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “You’ve got a good nose, honey.”
“I do?”
“Miss Muriel knows noses!” Reggie said, opening the door at the next stop. Several passengers boarded, too engrossed in their midmorning routines to notice a kid who should already be at school sitting in the front row.
“That’s my shop up ahead.” Muriel pointed out the window at the bakery. “Been working there for over forty years. Think I’m due for a holiday.”
“The bakery?” That sounded one hundred times better than the hardware store.
“Indeed.” She reached into her purse and produced a small card. “Our apple pies made us famous, but when that orchard went kaput, we had to diversify.”
“Diversify? Like with stocks?” I asked, trying to sound smart.
Muriel’s laugh chimed like bells. “No, with sticky buns. And marble breads. And cakes and such. We had to adapt. It was difficult for a while. In the end, it made us stronger.” She shook her head, sending white-blue wisps across her face. “I do miss making those pies, though. There must’ve been something mighty special in the water running through that orchard. Or maybe it was the soil. Who knows? Either way, I’d give my left foot for another one of those Melwick apples. Mmhmm.”
“Nothin’ like ’em!” Reggie agreed, smacking his lips.
“Did you say Melwick apples?” I sputtered.
Before she could answer, the bus stopped and the door opened. Muriel stood up. “Give this to your mama. Tell her to come see me when she’s ready.” She pressed the card into my hand.
“I will. Thank you!” I slipped it into the zipped pouch in my backpack, for safekeeping. I thought about the chance seedling and the watch I needed to bury beneath the ground. We’re running out of time to figure this out, my parents had said yesterday. If everything worked like I imagined, the jewelry crop would solve our money problems and neither Mom nor Dad would need a job. But a backup plan couldn’t hurt. Especially one that might involve sticky buns.
Chapter 23
I slid into my chair in the back row as if it were home base, right as the third period bell rang.
“Welcome back,” Kira whispered from the next desk over. “How’d the secret mission go?”
I stealthily flashed the gold watch under the desk so she could see, then stashed it away.
“Nice!” Kira’s attempt at a conspiratorial wink was horrendous. Anything but inconspicuous.
“Kira, the emergency eyewash station is located at the back of the room, if you need to use it,” Ms. Perdilla said, looking concerned.
I tried to suppress a giggle. Which came out like a snort. Fantastic.
“And Isabel, if you need to see the nurse for any reason, please go right ahead. You don’t need to ask.”
“The nurse? Why?”
Ms. Perdilla walked over to my desk and said quietly, “I wasn’t sure you’d make it in at all today. You are a trooper.”
I gave Kira a what-the-heck stare, but she just grinned and attempted that insane wink again.
Ms. Perdilla made her way to the front of the room and began taking attendance. I actually tried to pay attention for once, matching each name to each face and committing them to memory. When she got to my name, I responded with the standard, “Here!”
Several rows in front of me,
Casey made a disgusting sound. Like he was puking all over his desk. Then Noah followed suit. And Leo. The class erupted with laughter.
I slowly turned in my chair. Kira nodded her head with satisfaction. “Good, huh?”
“What. Did. You. Do?” I muttered as quietly as possible.
“What’s wrong? I made up an excuse. Just like you asked. I announced it in home room.”
I grimaced. “Announced what exactly?”
“Food poisoning. Clever, right?” Her eyebrows waggled.
“Ugh.” I slumped into my chair, feeling like I might actually throw up.
“That’s enough. Settle down,” Ms. Perdilla ordered. It was as if my make-believe malady was suddenly contagious. Kids were gripping their stomachs and practically rolling in the aisles with revolting sound effects.
“Class! Quiet down!”
I covered my head with my arms and tried to disappear.
“You’re not mad, are you?” Kira whispered to my elbow.
I groaned, a little too loudly. Which ignited another puke fest from the middle row.
“Watch out! She’s gonna blow!” someone yelled.
Ms. Perdilla flew down the aisle, waving detention slips, trying to regain control.
“I just wanted to help,” Kira said.
I tilted my head and peered at her with one mortified eyeball. “I know. You only did what I asked. It’s my own fault.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re like the most famous girl in school today.”
School was actually one place I wanted to remain invisible. And now I was the exact opposite. “You mean infamous.”
“Tomayto, tomahto!”
“Um, it’s a big difference. More like tomato, armadillo.”
“You ate an armadillo?” Casey snickered. “No wonder you got sick!”
The classroom exploded again. As a last, desperate resort, Ms. Perdilla lifted a foghorn from her desk drawer and blew it loudly. We all rocketed out of our seats, ears ringing. Someone whimpered.
“Imagine if our tree had sprouted some of those,” Kira said under her breath. I tried my hardest not to laugh.
“May I please have your attention!” Ms. Perdilla said, which wasn’t a question, but a command. The room went silent. “Thank you. Since we seem to be too distracted this morning to give our lesson plan the focus it truly deserves, we will spend the rest of the period working on our research projects. Don’t forget—your topic statements are due next week.”
The Magic of Melwick Orchard Page 16