13 Gifts
Page 9
I squirm, not sure what the right answer is and not wanting to insult anyone. Any time we move to a new town, I set my expectations so low that if anyone even smiles at me in the hall it’s a victory. So these people have already surprised me just by saying hello! To say nothing of an Australian personal assistant who I can’t understand most of the time, a math-genius cousin with a father who has rooms full of weird stuff, a boy who chants in pool holes and whose singing makes trees grow, two best friends who use blackboards to talk to each other, or Rory, with the evil bunny and the strange way she has of both blending in and standing out. And then there’s the matter of those hand-holding hawks that seem to be following me. But for all of them this is their normal life. How could I tell them how strange they are, even if they’re asking me?
Finally I say, “Well, my parents only decided I was coming here three days ago. So I didn’t have time to build up any real expectations of the town, or, you know, the people here.”
A quizzical look flies between them. They don’t even try to hide it this time.
“Really?” Rory asks, knitting her brow. “Just three days ago?”
“Uh-huh. It was very last-minute. My mom’s job got moved up, so I have to finish the last two weeks of the school year online.” Okay, so there may be a few gaps in the story, but I didn’t actually lie about anything.
“Huh,” Amanda says, giving me another head tilt. Then she mumbles something about being right back and strides off toward the boys, blackboard swinging so fast it hits her on the chin. She yanks Leo aside and writes something on her board. I can’t help thinking it’s about me, but what could she possibly have to say? I barely told them anything.
Rory touches me gently on the arm and turns me a bit so my back is facing the others. “So,” she says breezily, “have you been to a bar mitzvah before?”
It’s obvious she’s changing the subject, but this time I don’t mind. I shake my head.
“Me, neither,” Rory says. “David’s, like, the only Jewish kid in town. He’s been learning everything through this online program his mom signed him up for.”
“Really? You can do that?”
She nods. “And there’s no temple near here, so the service and the party afterward are going to be at the community center. That reminds me, I have to look for a gift.”
My eyes widen. A present! Of course presents go along with bar mitzvahs. And from what I remember hearing at school, they’re pretty expensive ones. Rory must have seen my expression because she says, “Definitely don’t worry about a gift, Tara. David wouldn’t expect that at all.”
But Mom’s voice in the back of my head tells me otherwise. “I wouldn’t feel right going to a party without a gift.” And before I can stop myself, I add, “My parents gave me spending money for the summer, so I’ll just use part of that.”
Rory’s dad pulls into the parking area and that effectively ends our conversation. I follow the others to the car. Maybe the stores in Willow Falls will accept magic beans instead of money. It worked in Jack and the Beanstalk. Or wait, maybe it didn’t. Although if I actually owned magic beans, I’d use them to go back in time and un-pepper-spray the principal. Then I’d be off to Madagascar, where no one would expect anything from me for two whole months. (I’m pretty sure none of the lemurs would be declaring their manhood with a ceremony requiring a big gift and a fancy dress.)
“Look what I found!” Rory’s dad exclaims when we reach him. He’s standing outside the car, waving a large book in his hand. The words Willow Falls High School are emblazoned on the front in gold.
“Daaaad,” Rory complains, her hands on her hips. “Not that old yearbook again! I’ve told you before, my friends don’t want to see pictures of your high school rock band. We get it, you were cool once.”
“Very funny, darling daughter,” Rory’s dad says, flipping the book open. “But I brought it because I thought Tara might like to see something.” He holds the book out to me, open to a page near the end. I take it, and everyone crowds around to see. A large banner proclaims PROM KING AND QUEEN, with a full-page color photo underneath. A dark-haired girl in a pink dress steadies a small silver tiara on her head with one hand, and clutches a bouquet of white roses with the other. At her side is a skinny boy in a white tuxedo, all gawky arms and legs. I recognize the picture right away. Mom told me how Grandma had begged her to wear that dress to the prom, and how she’d donated it to the local Salvation Army the very next morning. Next to the picture, Dad had inscribed a message to Rory’s father: I’m sure you’ll find your prom queen one day. Let’s hope she’s not a zombie. Then below it he’d drawn a cartoon zombie with skin dripping off his face.
Rory’s dad chuckles. “Your dad always did love his monsters.”
“He writes books about them now,” I tell him.
He slaps his thigh. “Man, that’s great! Just great!”
“Wow,” Rory says, peering over my shoulder, “you weren’t kidding about your dad being really tall. Have you ever seen this picture before?”
I nod, handing the book back to her father. “My parents used to have it up on their bedroom wall.” As I say it, I realize I haven’t seen it in the last few houses. Was it lost in a move somewhere?
This time I climb into the car last so I’m squished up next to a window. I spend the ride back into town staring out of it, wondering how I’m ever going to come up with the money to get David a gift. I tune out the conversation in the car, which has turned to talk of final exams next week. What if they actually ask me to hang out again, only next time they want to get ice cream or go to a movie? I won’t even have pocket money to pay for any of that stuff. Plus, I still have to figure out a way to replace Mom’s iPod before the end of the summer.
Probably, Aunt Bethany and Uncle Roger would give me any money I needed, but I don’t want to feel even more indebted to them. They’re already housing and feeding me. Plus, how could I ask them to lie and not tell my parents that I lost the money? Me lying is bad enough; I can’t ask others to lie for me. And, as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, my pride is at stake. It’s just embarrassing that I couldn’t hold on to the two most important things my parents entrusted me with.
I’m deep in thought about how I could take advantage of my height and pretend to be older in order to get a job somewhere in town, when Jake Harrison’s name reaches my ears. I can’t help but tune back in.
Next to me, Amanda asks, “When does the movie open again?”
I blurt out, “In six weeks!” exactly as Rory gives the same answer from the front seat.
Leo and David groan. “Looks like we have another Jake Harrison fan on our hands,” David says.
Amanda grins. “I don’t think Rory can be considered a fan anymore.”
Rory twists around and glares at Amanda. She gestures ever so slightly toward her dad.
Amanda mouths the word sorry. David giggles and Rory glares at him, too, before turning back around. I look out the window again. I’m probably supposed to wonder what that was all about, but nearly thirteen years of not getting interested in other people’s lives has trained me well. The only reason I’m even mildly curious this time is because it has to do with Jake. How could someone be a fan and then stop being one? Whatever the reason, Rory obviously doesn’t want to discuss it in front of her father. I don’t blame her. I would never want to talk about boys in front of my dad, either. Not that I could imagine an occasion where that would ever come up.
My thoughts turn to Dad’s inscription in the yearbook. He was clearly just as smitten with my mom back then as he is today. The little cartoon he drew was pretty funny. He used to draw whole comic books for me when I was younger. He always made me a superhero of one kind or another — kindergartner by day, vanquisher of evil by night. His comics would probably give most little kids nightmares, but I loved them. Mom told me once that Dad thought about writing and illustrating comics for a living, but he didn’t think he could make enough money at it.
I sit up straighter in my seat. A ton of money! For one comic. Hadn’t Emily said her father had duplicates of some of the ones in his collection? Would he really notice if one went missing? That room looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. I mean, I could write my name in the dust on some of those shelves.
As I climb out of the car, Rory calls out, “Hey, do you want to come with us to the Willow Falls Diner after school tomorrow? They have great chocolate-chip pancakes.”
Well, that was fast. I hesitate, one hand still on the door handle. This day was hard enough. How long until they figure out I have nothing to offer their merry little band?
But it’s Rory asking, and like I said before, Rory = Hard to Say No To.
“Okay,” I reply. “Thanks.” I watch from the porch as Rory’s dad pulls around the circular driveway. I keep standing there long after the car has disappeared down the street. I can’t make myself go inside, because once I do, I’m going to have exactly twenty-two hours to figure out how to steal a comic book and sell it without getting caught.
And that will be the worst thing I’ve ever done.
Chapter Nine
Emily has finally switched off her flashlight. Still, I dare not move until I’m sure she’s sound asleep. My stomach growls, and I can easily imagine that it’s admonishing me for what I’m about to do, rather than complaining because I had only picked at the leftover barbeque Aunt Bethany had served for dinner. She’d wanted to know all about my afternoon. Did I like Rory and her friends? Do I think I’ll hang out with them again? What did I think of Willow Falls? Stuff like that. I told her everyone had been very nice, that they’d invited me for pancakes already, and how Rory’s dad had been friends with my parents but hadn’t known they’d gotten married.
Aunt Bethany stopped chewing her baked beans. “Well, your mother pulled away a bit from her other friends once she started going out with Jimmy.”
This was news to me. It doesn’t really make sense since Mom always talks about how important her friends were to her.
“You girls would never do anything like that, right?” Aunt Bethany asked, pointing her fork at both of us in turn. “Boyfriends come and go, but your girlfriends will be with you forever.”
Only in my mom’s case, her boyfriend never left.
Emily rolled her eyes and said that she wasn’t planning on dating until she won the math prize, or left for college, whichever came first. Uncle Roger said, “Amen to that.” I didn’t say anything since I don’t have any friends to drop in the first place.
Only maybe that’s not true anymore, because if I didn’t have friends, would I be staring at Emily’s bed right now, waiting for her to sleep so I can proceed with my plan? Would I risk getting caught stealing again? I press my hands over my eyes. Being almost thirteen is very confusing.
Emily’s breathing has become even. The time has come. The clouds block most of the moonlight, so the obstacle course that is Emily’s room is more challenging tonight. I grab my phone off the night table, glad to actually have a use for it. I hold it out in front of me, allowing the glow to guide me safely around stacks of books and piles of clothes.
The light in Uncle Roger’s lab is off, and I don’t have to worry about Ray barging in on me again since he’s out with his “mates.” I tiptoe past Emily’s parents’ bedroom and stop in front of the door marked KEEP OUT. Heart pounding, I don’t allow myself to hesitate more than a few seconds before slipping inside. I shut the door as quietly as possible and hold my breath until I’m sure no one is coming.
The room is nearly pitch black, which I quickly chalk up to the fact that there are no windows. I hadn’t noticed that last time. I guess the light and heat from the sun would fade the collectibles. That must be why it’s so cold in here, too. Wouldn’t want the foreign chocolate to melt!
The pale light from my phone casts strange shadows, making the room appear longer, the shelves taller, than they were when Emily brought me here. The faces of the action figures and bobbleheads that fill the shelves seem suddenly menacing. I hurry past them, averting my gaze from their accusing eyes.
The comic section consists of three huge plastic bins, each divided by hanging folders. I balance the phone on the edge of an upper shelf so I can use both hands to flip through the comics. The first bin is full of the usual superhero suspects like The Avengers, Green Lantern, The Fantastic Four, The Flash, Superman, Justice League of America, Spider-Man, The Incredible Hulk, and Batman. The next contains ones I’ve never heard of, like Tales to Astonish and Journey Into Mystery. I’m surprised to see comics like Archie and Richie Rich in the last bin, along with a few relatively recent ones like Hellboy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, The Sandman, and some manga from Japan. My father would be impressed for sure. The largest folder is nearly bursting with monthly editions of The Uncanny X-Men from the 1970s. I stop at a section of Mickey Mouse titles from the 1940s and pull a few out. Uncle Roger owns at least two of each copy. Like the others, each one is tucked inside a plastic slipcover. I don’t really think of Mickey Mouse when I think of comics, though. I drop them back into the folder.
I’m about to step over to the next bin when the sound of a door opening and closing freezes me in place. My mind races to come up with excuses. The best I can think of is “I couldn’t sleep and was looking for reading material.” It’s pretty lame, but it’s better than the truth. I brace myself for the inevitable and turn to face the door.
No one is there. I’m still alone! It wasn’t this door! That means either Emily woke up to use the bathroom or Uncle Roger had a late-night flash of inspiration and is in his lab. I strain my ears, but can’t hear anything that would confirm who is in another room and why. Either way, though, someone is up, and that means I’m in danger of getting caught. I reach blindly into the last bin, grab a comic, and slip it under the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. I’m halfway across the room before I remember my phone. I dash back, reach out for it, and knock it right off the shelf. Luckily, my superfast reflexes that got me in so much trouble with the pepper spray actually work in my favor tonight, and I manage to catch it right before it hits the floor.
As I step into the hall, I hear the unmistakable flush of a toilet. Emily! Had she noticed my empty bed? If so, she must have expected to find me in the bathroom. I just have to hope she didn’t look over at my bed before she went out.
I race toward the bedroom, grateful to the plush carpet for masking the sound of my feet. I duck into the room and dive under my blanket just as the light in the bathroom turns off. I turn my head, close my eyes, and pretend to sleep.
Emily’s bed creaks as she climbs back into it. I hold my breath. Is she going to ask where I’ve been? But all I hear is the rustling of pages and the click of the flashlight. There she goes, under the covers again. Honestly, I don’t know how she functions on so little sleep. If I weren’t on the verge of a heart attack from all this stress, I’d be impressed with her dedication. I can’t think of a single instance in my life when I’ve tried that hard at anything, which is a depressing thought.
Ever so quietly, I slip the comic out from under my pajamas. I don’t know much about collectibles, but I do know that they’re worth more if they’re not creased by someone sleeping on them! I slide the comic off to the side of the bed and move as far away as possible. Once my heart rate returns to normal, exhaustion overtakes me. At first I try to fight it, wanting desperately to stay awake until I can get the comic someplace safe.
A loud snore from Emily wakes me up a few hours later. The light from the moon is still pretty bright, so I can see clearly. She’s sleeping on her side, with her back to me. Moving quickly, I lean over the far edge of
my bed and feel underneath for my suitcase. I slide it out about a foot and get to work on the zipper. It sounds SO LOUD, but Emily keeps right on snoring. I flip open the top and see Jake’s smiling face. At first it makes me feel better to have something so familiar to look at. But then I catch a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes and have to turn away.
Still hanging over the edge, I reach behind me for the comic book. Fortunately I’d managed not to destroy it in my sleep. I lift up the poster and the bag of broken glass, and carefully rest the comic on the bottom of my suitcase. I cover it back up, and push the suitcase back under the bed, where, hopefully, the stuffed lizard will guard over it.
The next time I wake up, the light is streaming through the blinds, and the clock says 8:03. I rub my eyes. Another school day has arrived and I have no school to go to. I glance over at Emily’s bed. It’s empty. I’m surprised I didn’t hear her get up.
“Hey there,” Emily’s voice says, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I flip over to find her kneeling by the side of my bed, fully dressed in her school uniform, with my suitcase out in front of her. All I can do is stare as she pulls on the zipper.
“Sorry if I woke you,” she says. “I can’t find one of my schoolbooks, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t mixed up with yours. Is it okay if I check in here?”
My brain simply cannot process what’s happening. I want to say, Wait, stop, don’t, but all that comes out is a crazed gurgle. She must have interpreted that as a yes, because she flips open the top. When I see that, I fly off the bed and am at her side in a flash.