13 Gifts

by Wendy Mass

  Making Up Stories = Lying = Not a Good Thing to Do When Trying to Pay Off Debt to Society.

  But what choice do I have? I figure I’ll start as close to the truth as possible. “I … I know this lady who collects old canes and, um, things with ducks. I know she’d love this one.”

  “Canes and ducks, eh?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yup.”

  “This guy’s been like a part of the family.” He pats the top of the duck’s head. “Sure would be hard to let it go.”

  “I can pay you,” I offer. Maybe I should have led with that one. I have the money from Angelina stuffed deep into my sock. I no longer trust wallets. They disappear too easily.

  “Well now, that wouldn’t be right seeing as it wasn’t mine in the first place.” He turns to his daughter. “Annie, what do you think would be a fair trade?”

  “Hmm …” She taps her long nails on the dessert counter. “I know! We’re short a dishwasher today.”

  Mr. Milazo grins at me. “Whatya say? Ready to roll up your sleeves and dive in?”

  Great, just great. Rory and Leo are going to walk in here any minute and find me up to my elbows in suds and grease? But if I let the very first thing from the list slip through my fingers, I’m never going to finish. I glance over at the cane and sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Annie laughs. “We wouldn’t really make you wash dishes.”

  “Just testing your commitment,” her dad says with a wink.

  “Oh,” I reply weakly. “Good one.”

  Annie’s cell phone rings. She reaches into her pocket and answers it, holding up a finger for us to wait. Her dad shakes his head and nudges me. “Kids these days with their cell phones, right?”

  I chuckle politely in response, glancing anxiously at the door.

  Annie slips her phone back into her pocket and says to her father, “That was Shelly. She apparently told the leader of her Sunshine Kid troupe that she sold fifty boxes of cookies instead of five. We now have forty-five extra boxes of cookies in our garage. Either we sell them by six P.M. tomorrow or pay for them ourselves.”

  Mr. Milazo claps me on the back. “I think we found you a job!”

  Annie beams. “How’d you like to be a Sunshine Kid?”

  “A what?” I ask, hoping I misheard.

  “They’re like Girl Scouts,” she explains. “Except their uniforms are yellow and orange instead of green and brown. And they let boys in. Oh, and their cookies aren’t as good. And they sing.”

  “So you want me to dress up in a uniform and sell bad cookies? And sing?”

  “I didn’t say they were bad. Especially if you put ketchup on them.”

  Ketchup?

  Annie’s dad walks over to the umbrella stand and pulls out the cane. Without a word, he presents it to me very solemnly, like he’s handing me a really important gift. It’s heavier than it looked in the stand. Very solid, and obviously well made since it’s held up all these years. Strange to think that someone wouldn’t have come back for it once they realized it was missing.

  “Fine, I’ll sell the cookies,” I mutter. “But I’m not singing.”

  “Wonderful!” Mr. Milazo booms.

  “What’s wonderful?” Leo asks, walking through the door with Rory. “Is today buy-one-get-one-free pancake day?”

  “No such luck, my boy,” Mr. Milazo says, thumping Leo on the back like they’re old friends. “This young lady here is going to be an honorary Sunshine Kid! She’s going to sell forty-five boxes of cookies by tomorrow afternoon!”

  “Is that right?” Leo asks, raising an eyebrow.

  I give a little wave with the hand not currently leaning on the cane for support.

  Rory puts her hands on her hips. “Tara’s new in town. What have you two done to her?”

  Mr. Milazo touches his hand to his chest. “Who, me?”

  “Is that smoke?” Rory asked, sniffing the air.

  “Hey,” Leo says, “if you’re out here, who’s making the pancakes?”

  Mr. Milazo’s eyes widen. He turns and runs back through the swinging doors without a word. Smoke billows out behind him.

  “Seat yourselves,” Annie instructs us, running after her dad.

  Rory leads us past the counter, where a group of women are eating ice cream and laughing. I glance hungrily at their bowls as we pass, and notice one lady picking out her gumballs and arranging them on her napkin. For the first time since I’ve been in town, it sinks in that my mother grew up here. And Dad, too! They probably came to this very diner, maybe even sat at that very counter. It makes me feel both closer to them, and farther away.

  We settle into the last booth. “Sooo …” Leo begins, glancing at the cane next to me on the seat. “Anything you’d like to share with us about your day?”

  I look from one to the other. “Um, not really. It’s been a pretty ordinary day. You know how it is in sleepy little Willow Falls.”

  “We do,” Rory says, not taking her eyes from my face. “That’s why we know it wasn’t an ordinary day.”

  I squirm, the cushion squeaking underneath me. It’s impossible to turn away from Rory’s intense gaze. “Well, I guess I do have to sell forty-five boxes of cookies by tomorrow.”

  “And why is that, exactly?” Rory asks.

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “We’ve got time,” Leo says. “You’re gonna have to spill it sooner or later, unless you want to sell forty-five boxes of really tasteless cookies all by yourself.”

  “They’re not that bad with ketchup,” I mutter. He’s right of course. I can’t sell the cookies by myself. Unless I buy them all! I do a quick calculation. Rats. I’d use up most of the money from Angelina right there.

  I sink deeper into the bench cushion. I might as well be back at school right now, trying to talk my way out of having to work with others on some project. The last time I agreed to be a part of a group, I wound up getting suspended. “I don’t have a good track record of playing nice with others,” I explain. “Ask any of my teachers.”

  “At least tell us what’s up with the cane,” Rory says. “My little brother, Sawyer, quacks at it every time we come in here. I’ve never seen Mr. Milazo take it out of the umbrella stand before. Why would he just give it to you?”

  I shrug. “I guess my charm and winning personality won him over.”

  Leo laughs. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that.”

  The waitress approaches the table and places one large chocolate-chip pancake in front of each of us. I hadn’t even seen anyone order. I think I could eat all three by myself. Leo digs into his pancake, but Rory doesn’t touch hers. She’s still waiting for an answer from me.

  I sigh, glancing longingly at my plate. “If I let you help me sell the cookies, will you stop asking me about the cane?”

  “For now,” Rory agrees, cutting into her pancake. “But there’s not much time if we’re going to sell forty-five boxes by tomorrow. I’ll pick up the cookies from Annie. I’ve babysat for her kids before; she lives right around the corner from here.”

  “Then what?” Leo asks. “Her kids will have covered their neighborhood already.”

  “True,” Rory says. “Why don’t we start at the community center? That’s our best chance of having a bunch of people in one place at a time. We’ll need to get uniforms, though. No one’s going to buy cookies from Sunshine Kids dressed in school clothes.”

  “Amanda was a Sunshine Kid in third grade,” Leo says, “but I’m sure her uniform wouldn’t fit anyone.”

  “I know where to get them,” I say quietly.

  Rory grins. “Great!” she says, as though it’s perfectly normal that I would know such a thing after being in town only a few days. “Then let’s get going.” She pushes Leo across the bench until he has one leg in the aisle.

  “Wait, what about our pancakes?” he asks, grabbing on to his plate like it’s a life preserver.

  Rory looks down at our mostly untouched pancakes
and Leo’s half-eaten one, then grabs the pile of napkins from the center of the table.

  “Good thing you hadn’t put syrup on it yet,” I tell Leo as he stares dejectedly at the wrapped-up pancake in his hand. “That’d be really messy.”

  “Go get the uniforms,” Rory instructs us. “I’ll take the cane, pay the bill, and get the cookies, and we’ll meet at the community center in half an hour.”

  Thirty seconds later, Leo and I find ourselves out on the street, clutching our pancakes. The butter grease is seeping through the napkins. I turn to him. “Is she always this … this …”

  “Bossy? Determined? Good at helping out others whether or not they ask? Yes.”

  I hope letting Rory take the cane with her wasn’t a huge mistake. I’ve only known her a day, and she does have a history of losing things. I can’t wait a second longer to eat, though, so I unwrap my pancake and eat it like a taco. Leo quickly digs into his, too.

  “These are really good,” I say, not even caring that I have chocolate all over my hands and pancake crumbs on my chin.

  “You never forget your first Willow Falls chocolate-chip pancake.” He shoves the rest of his into his mouth and licks each finger in turn. I guess I should feel good that he feels comfortable enough around me to do that, but it’s kinda gross. After wiping his mouth with the greasy napkin, he says, “So where are we going to get the uniforms?”

  I swallow the bite I’d been chewing. “You know that store we found at the end of the alley yesterday?”

  He nods cautiously. “What about it?”

  “I saw some in there when …” I trail off. I don’t want to let him know I was in there today. “I saw them when I looked in the window. There’s a whole rack of scouting uniforms.”

  He turns both ways, like he wants to make sure we’re alone. “Okay, but let’s hurry.”

  I can tell he’s eyeing my pancake as we cross the street, so I tear the remaining piece in half and give it to him. We’re about to turn down the alley, when the door of the dress shop opens and a woman comes out, followed by a boy with a black suit slung over his shoulder. It’s David!

  “Hi!” he says when he sees us. He glances at the food in our hands. “Did they run out of tables at the diner?”

  I hurriedly wipe my face with the back of my hand as Leo replies, “Something like that.”

  “You must be Bethany’s niece,” David’s mother says, checking her phone with one hand and fishing around in her pocketbook with the other. “Tara, right?”

  I nod. She’s much older than my mom, but very pretty, with the curliest hair I’ve ever seen. She finds her keys and pulls them out. “David says you’re going to be his good luck charm.”

  “Mom!” David says, shifting the suit so I can’t see his face.

  “Oops, sorry,” she says, patting him good-naturedly on the head. “Was I not supposed to say that?”

  He groans.

  “Here,” she says, lifting the clothes away from him. “Why don’t I take this home, and you can play with — I mean hang out with — your friends?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Goldberg,” Leo says.

  She presses a button on her keys and the trunk of a car parked in front of the store lifts up. She hefts the suit inside and slams it shut. “I hope you enjoy your time in Willow Falls, Tara. There’s more to it than meets the eye.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” I reply.

  She pulls away and David says, “I didn’t tell her about you, she overheard me talking to my friend Connor.”

  “You talked to Connor about Tara?” Leo asks.

  David reddens again, or should I say, reddens more.

  “He came over last night to play video games,” David says, “and I was telling him about being nervous for the bar —”

  “It’s okay,” Leo says. “I’m just bustin’ ya.”

  “I could say something right now about boys who write poems,” David says, “but I won’t.”

  Leo crosses his arms. “What’s wrong with a boy writing poems?”

  They start playfully shoving each other. I don’t have much experience with teenage boys, but I do know this could go on for a while. “I hate to break this up,” I say, stepping between them. “But we’re in kind of a hurry.”

  David gives Leo a final shove, then steps back. “Where are you guys headed? Hey, wasn’t Rory supposed to be with you?”

  I don’t even know where to start with the story. Leo says, “How about I fill David in on things while you go pick up the uniforms?”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Don’t you want to try them on for size?”

  “I trust you,” Leo says, glancing at his watch. “You better go. We’ll meet you at the community center, okay?”

  Leo leads David away, and I can tell he’s purposefully turning him so he doesn’t see where I’m going. I turn down the alley and wonder if it’s because David acted all weird about the store, claiming it was empty.

  The door to Angelina’s store is open, but she’s nowhere in sight. I head over to the uniforms and start going through them.

  “Don’t tell me you found everything on my list already?” she asks, popping out from behind the next rack of clothes.

  Seeing her makes me want to ask about a hundred questions, but something in the way she’s narrowing her eyes at me makes me think that wouldn’t be a good idea. “Well, I did find one of them,” I tell her, “but I need some Sunshine Kids uniforms in order to get it.”

  She raises one brow. “In your size?”

  “Give or take a few inches.”

  She looks me up and down. “Hmm, I may have a few in extra-large.” She reaches over to the rack and pulls off a yellow T-shirt with a big orange sun embroidered on the front. A pair of orange shorts with yellow suns running down the legs is attached to the hanger underneath. “Almost forgot.” She pulls aside the shorts to reveal a yellow hat made out of felt.

  I groan. “Great, it comes with a hat.”

  “Luckily for you, that’s just for the boys. You get a skirt!”

  “I’d rather have the hat,” I mutter.

  “How many do you want?”

  “Two of each.” I don’t want to leave out David now that he’s here. Although once he sees these, he’ll probably be begging to be left out.

  Angelina tosses me the one she’s holding, then pulls three more from the rack and piles them on my arms. I’m trying to think of how to tell her that the list of items she requested is going to be impossible to find. I got lucky with the cane, I’m sure. Maybe if I had a year, rather than a month, I’d have a fighting chance.

  “That’ll be twenty-five dollars,” she says, holding out her hand.

  My jaw falls open. “You’re charging me?”

  “Wouldn’t be in business very long if I gave things away for free.”

  I look down at the pile of orange and yellow clothes, faded in various places from years of wear. “Can’t I borrow them for a day or two? I’ll wash them after.”

  “Fine,” she says. “But after this you’re on your own. That’s why I gave you the money.”

  I want to argue that I’ll need that money for whatever comes ahead, but I know where that argument will get me. “Thank you,” I say instead. I turn to go, then ask, “Any chance you want to buy a box of cookies?”

  She only looks at me, unblinking. I hurry out of the store before she changes her mind about the uniforms.

  The main room of the community center is larger than it looks from the outside. It’s filled with couches and card tables, a big stage along the far wall with curtains that have seen better days, a few vending machines, and some open cabinets with board games and books piled inside. A big bulletin board filled with notices and announcements hangs on the wall by the door. There’s a flight of stairs to my left, and a long hallway leads to more rooms on the other side. I can hear little kids playing down the hall, dance music, and a man calling out bingo numbers. Most of the couches and chairs are filled with white-haired people cha
tting and playing cards.

  Leo and David pop up from one of the couches and wave me over. “This is Bucky Whitehead,” David says when I arrive. “He’s the oldest person in Willow Falls.”

  “Second oldest,” the old man says, folding a newspaper in his lap.

  David looks surprised. “Who’s the first, then?”

  “So those are the uniforms, eh?” Leo says, obviously trying to change the subject. “They look a little small.”

  But Bucky answers anyway. “Angelina D’Angelo, of course.”

  “Who?” David asks.

  “The woman who runs the shop in town,” I tell him. Although, honestly, she doesn’t look nearly as old as this guy. Leo kicks me in the shin. Why doesn’t he want me to talk about the shop?

  “Angelina owns a shop now?” Bucky asks, shaking his head. “That old girl gets around.”

  I’m about to tell him that the shop looks like it’s been there forever, but Leo’s foot is poised only inches from my shin, ready to strike again. So instead I say, “It’s nice to meet you,” and try to free a hand to shake his. Instead, I wind up dropping half the uniforms on the guy’s feet. “Sorry!” I bend down to grab them, but David and Leo beat me to it.

  David holds up one of them as far away from him as possible.

  “It won’t bite,” I tell him.

  “It might. This thing doesn’t look like it’s been washed in ten years.”

  “At least you don’t have to wear a skirt.”

  His response is drowned out by the screeching of metal wheels on the hardwood floor. Rory shows up, dragging a red wagon behind her piled high with cookie boxes. “I borrowed this from the daycare room. Pretty spiffy, right?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Leo says. “With that wagon and these uniforms, we’re going to be the most popular kids in school.”

  Rory drops the wagon handle in horror. It clangs on the floor. “You don’t think anyone will see us, do you?”

  David puts his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just get dressed and sell our little hearts out as fast as we can.”