by Wendy Mass
David and I are the last to climb the porch steps. He doesn’t seem mad about anything, and I’m curious what Leo and Rory decided to tell him. He gestures for me to go ahead. As I turn around, I see him touch a small rectangular box hanging crooked on the side of the door frame. Then he kisses his fingers. He notices me watching and smiles. “It’s a Jewish thing.” He points to the little box. “That’s a mezuzah. It has a little scroll inside with a prayer in it. You’re supposed to kiss it every time you pass by.”
“Why?”
He pauses. “Because it’s tradition.”
“Oh. Like when I ki —” Was I seriously about to say, “like when I kiss Jake Harrison’s picture every time I pass it”? Clearly I’m still not in my right mind.
“Do you like tomatoes on your grilled cheese?” Mrs. Goldberg asks me when we get to the kitchen.
I join the others around the table. “I’ve never tried it that way.”
“It’s a Jewish thing,” David says, setting out a bunch of napkins.
“Oh.”
He laughs. “I’m just kidding.”
“David!” his mother scolds as she flips the sandwiches over in the pan.
“Sorry, Tara,” he says sheepishly. “I promise to be nice. After all, you did let those birds poop on my head yesterday.”
“What?” his mother exclaims, nearly dropping the pan. “Get upstairs and take a shower right now!”
“Ma! I took one when I got home yesterday.” He turns to me and says, “My mom hates animal poop. That’s why we don’t have any pets.”
“My mom can’t get enough of that stuff,” I reply. “She can identify almost any animal by its excrement.”
“Um, we’re trying to eat here?” Rory says, holding up her sandwich.
David’s mom points upstairs with the spatula. “I’m not asking you again.”
“But I’m hungry,” he whines.
She places a sandwich on a paper plate and hands it to him. “Go.”
He slinks off and the rest of us dive into our sandwiches. Mrs. Goldberg goes upstairs to make sure David didn’t just turn on the shower water while he eats his sandwich and reads a book in his room. According to her, he has a habit of doing this.
When she’s gone, I ask, “So what did you guys tell David about why I need to find all the stuff?”
“We told him you lost the money you came to town with,” Rory whispers, glancing behind her. “And that a wealthy collector hired you to find some objects for him. I may have let him believe that it’s a friend of your uncle’s, since he knows your uncle is a collector, too. He said he’d be happy to help.”
The surprise must show on my face because Leo says, “Was that all right? You’re not mad, are you?”
“It’s perfect,” I tell them, feeling very pleased with myself. “Because that’s really what happened.”
“What do you mean?” Amanda asks.
“I mean I really DID lose the money my parents gave me. That’s why I went to Angelina in the first place.”
Leo scribbles something to Amanda, who scribbles back. Then Leo says, “So you really did go to Angelina first? She didn’t seek you out?”
I’m confused. “Why does it matter?”
“We’re not sure,” Leo says. Then to Rory, “Angelina came to you, right?”
She nods. “She pulled me out of the drainpipe.”
“You were stuck in a drainpipe?” I ask, incredulous. I mean, Emily had said Rory was clumsy, but wow.
She lifts her chin. “It totally looked like a rock.”
“You were stuck in a rock-shaped drainpipe?”
She nods again. “I don’t recommend it.”
Amanda turns to me and asks, “But what made you go to Angelina?”
“Well, after we found her store yesterday I figured it was the only place in town I could se —” Oops! Can’t tell that part. “The only place in town that might hire me,” I finish. “She even paid me in advance!” It feels so good to tell them about losing the money. One less secret I have to keep track of.
“Wow,” Rory says. “Maybe she’s softening in her old age.”
“I don’t think so. She’s pretty tough. She says she doesn’t want to see me again until I’ve got all the items on her list.”
“Can we see it?” Amanda asks.
“Let’s wait for David to come back,” Rory says.
We don’t have to wait long. A minute later he shows up with wet hair and directs us down the hall into the family room. Rory grabs the cane and basket, which she had propped up in the corner of the kitchen.
The family room is filled with pictures of David growing up. A bunch from the younger years includes a dark-haired man who I assume is his father. The two of them playing catch, swimming in the ocean, sitting on a porch. Sometimes his mom’s in the picture, too, and in the more recent years it’s mostly David alone. Other than the photographs, there’s no sign of his dad anywhere. No oversized slippers by the couch, no sports magazine by the television.
As soon as we sit down on various couches and chairs, everyone (except me) starts talking at once. Finally David stands up, grabs the cane, and taps it on the floor like a judge with a gavel. Even without the noise, the sight of him holding the duck-headed cane is enough to make everyone stop and laugh.
“Now that I have your attention,” he says, “I did some thinking while forced to take my second shower in twenty-four hours.” He starts pacing with the cane. “It seems to me, if there are eleven more things on Tara’s list, and she has almost four weeks to find them, that’s less than three a week. That’s not so bad, right?”
“Wait a second,” Rory says. “Tara, has your aunt said anything to you about going to the beach this summer?”
I shake my head. “Why?”
“They always go in the beginning of July for ten days. I heard them talking about it last week. They’re definitely going, which means you are, too.”
“Which means,” Amanda says, “that we don’t have a month to get these things, we have two weeks.”
I take a deep breath. Okay, two weeks. Eleven things. Is that even possible? But then a thought cheers me up. “Hey, look how fast I found the first two — maybe they’ll all be like that.”
“Something tells me the rest won’t be as easy,” Leo says. “It was probably beginner’s luck, finding those first two so quickly.”
“Maybe,” David agrees. “But I still think it’s worth trying to sell the last of the cookies tomorrow. It’ll get us into more houses.”
I shudder at the thought of putting on that outfit again. “Leo’s shorts are in shreds,” I remind David. “And what’s a Sunshine Kid without his sunshine shorts?”
“So true,” Leo says, shaking his head sadly. “So true.”
“Well, how else are we going to get inside people’s houses?” David asks.
“We could pretend to be walking by and then one of us can ask to use their bathroom,” Rory suggests. “You know, if they seem friendly.”
Amanda shakes her head. “That might get us in the front door, but it’s not like we can wander through their whole house. These objects could be anywhere. What are the chances of finding something else in a bathroom?”
“I think we need to see the list,” Leo says, “so we know what we’re up against.”
I still can’t get used to hearing them say “we.” I doubt any of the four of them would be volunteering to help if they knew the real reason why I need to get all these objects in on time. But if Rory’s right and we only have two weeks, I’m certainly in no position to turn anyone away.
I take the list out of my pocket and unfold it. “It’s kind of random,” I warn them, laying it on the wooden coffee table.
They all huddle around as Rory reads it out loud. At first her voice is full of enthusiasm, but as the list goes on, she starts to sound more and more defeated. Then she gets to the last one. “Hey, Amanda and Leo! The final item is a bottle of wine brewed by Ellerby-Fitzpatrick Brewer
s! Is that you guys?”
Amanda and Leo grab the paper to read it themselves. “No way!” Amanda says, laughing. Then she grabs her blackboard and writes, Did you know our great-great-grandfathers made apple wine together?
Leo shakes his head and writes, Nothing those two would do surprises me.
What surprises me is that they know anything at all about their great-great-grandparents! I guess roots in Willow Falls grow deep.
“Can you find a bottle of it?” Rory asks them.
“We’ll do our best,” Amanda promises.
Unfortunately, the wine is the only item on the list that anyone in the room has an association with. David starts pacing again. “Why would this guy give you such a random list and not tell you where to find everything? What’s the point of that?”
“I don’t think she knows where they are.”
“Oh, it’s a lady?” he asks.
I nod, purposefully not glancing at the others in case I shouldn’t have given that much away.
But David is persistent. “Why does she want this stuff in the first place?”
“I guess for whatever collectors collect things for. Maybe to resell it?”
“Or maybe to put on display somewhere,” Leo suggests. “Like in a museum.”
David looks at the cane in his hand. “I’m not sure this is museum-worthy. And that basket looks old, but not, like, old enough to be on display somewhere.”
I know Leo is just trying to get David off track so he doesn’t think of Angelina’s store, but I don’t blame David for being confused.
Leo jumps up. “I know what we can do! We can put up a sign in the community center, on that big bulletin board. Everyone reads that thing when they come and go. Or at least the grown-ups do. We can list all the items and ask people to contact us if they own one of them.”
Amanda writes That’s a great idea on her blackboard.
David stops pacing. “And we can post it on the Willow Falls website! Everyone checks that at least once a day.”
“Definitely!” Rory says.
“Um, don’t take this the wrong way,” I say, “but your town has a website that people actually look at?”
They laugh. Amanda says, “Every day, one of the businesses or restaurants in town gives something away to the people who logged on that day. It also lists town activities, things like that. We don’t have a town paper anymore — saving the trees and all — so that’s where you go to find things out.”
“But wait,” Leo says. “What if posting the list jacks up the prices? Like when Tara asked for the other stuff, she had the element of surprise on her side. But if people see ahead of time that we want it, maybe they’ll ask a lot for it.”
Good point, Amanda writes. But what other choice do we have?
Amanda and Leo’s concerned faces tell me something I should have figured out earlier — they’re really worried about what might happen if I don’t get all these items in to Angelina on time. I’m worried, too, of course, and now I’m even more worried. Could they know something I don’t? Are there bigger consequences that I haven’t suspected?
“Amanda’s right,” I say. “We’re just going to have to take that chance. At least we’ll know where things are, and that’s the hardest part, right?”
No one answers for a minute. “Just promise me,” Leo says with mock sincerity, “no matter what people want us to do, that you’ll never make me wear shorts that tight again. I think I’m traumatized. Physically, and emotionally.”
“I promise. And whatever happens, whether we get all the stuff or not, I really owe you guys one.” I’m pretty sure this is a basic rule of friendship.
“Oh, we already have plans for how you’ll repay us,” Rory says. “That’s why we’re helping you.”
The flicker of panic her words inspire must show on my face because Rory quickly says, “I’m just kidding, silly!”
I smile weakly. I’ll figure this stuff out sooner or later. Let’s hope it’s sooner.
David lifts the cane above his head like a leader trying to convince a crowd to follow him into battle. In a deep voice he declares, “We will obtain everything on Tara’s list. And let us hope we will not have to do anything embarrassing, degrading, or illegal along the way. Onward and upward!”
“Onward!” Leo says, lifting his fist in the air in solidarity.
“And upward!” the rest of us shout.
Outside the family room’s large window, a branch creaks, leaves rustle, and the unmistakable kreeee, kreeee of two hawks in love fill the room. Only this time it sounds like they’re laughing.
Like they’re laughing at us.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time I let myself into the house, it’s almost nine o’clock. I don’t think I’ve ever been out this late alone. I hear Aunt Bethany in the kitchen on the phone, so I duck my head in to let her know I’m back. She waves for me to come in while she finishes up her call. I’m glad I stashed the cane and basket in the shed with the bike. It would be very hard to explain why I have them. I’m going to have to come up with a better hiding place than that, but for now it’ll have to do.
Aunt Bethany hangs up the phone and opens her arms. “Tara!” she says, giving me a big hug. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice. For a few seconds it allows me to forget the events of the day. “Did you have fun with Rory and her friends?” she asks.
“They’re all really nice. Thank you for inviting them over yesterday.”
She smiles. “That was your cousin’s idea.”
“It was?”
She nods.
I haven’t seen Emily since that morning. I hope she doesn’t think I’m avoiding her. I wonder if I should have invited her along for the pancakes. But if I had, she’d just be dragged into this whole mess, and having her a part of it is just too close to home. I remember all the clothes on my bed. “Oh, I meant to thank you for the clothes; you didn’t have to do that.”
“I hope they fit.”
“I think they will.” Although I’m kind of hoping that they won’t. After wearing yellow and orange all day, I’m feeling especially fond of my drab browns and blacks.
She gestures for me to sit at the table. “I’ve been feeling guilty all day,” she says. “There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
I stiffen, unable to imagine what I’m about to hear. Whatever it is, it can’t possibly compare with all the things I haven’t told her.
“That e-mail from your teacher? Well, I read it. I didn’t mean to, but your mother told me the school would be sending me your homework assignments, so I figured it was your first assignment.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her, relieved that it was something so minor in the scheme of things. “I don’t mind. I know Mom told you what happened with the principal and everything.”
“Okay, good. I just want you to know that respecting each other’s privacy is big in our family.”
Of course I’m the one who feels guilty now, for keeping so much from her when she’s being so nice to me. And snooping around the rooms upstairs is pretty much the opposite of respecting their privacy. Guilt isn’t an emotion I have much practice with. I’ve gotta say, I’m not a fan. I can’t even look her in the eye, so I face the desk and ask, “Can I use the computer to write my teacher back? I didn’t get a chance yet.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, are you going to take her up on her offer to write the essay?”
I nod, forcing myself to face her again.
She smiles. “I thought you might. Be sure to tell them the cabins are drafty and the juice is watered-down.”
I laugh, feeling the knot of guilt in my stomach begin to unravel. My aunt is pretty cool.
She leaves me alone to write back. After I accept my teachers’ offer, I type in the address for the Willow Falls website. There, on the home page, is my list with the heading Any of this stuff sound familiar? Taking up room in your house or business? If so, we’d love to talk to you. David even created a
new e-mail address so no one would recognize his regular one. We’d gone back and forth on the wording. David thought writing “love” sounded too mushy, but Rory insisted it sounded friendlier than “we want to talk to you,” which was David’s initial idea.
It feels weird to have the list be so public like this. I have a flash of regret. What if Angelina gets mad? Is this cheating somehow? She said it didn’t matter how I got the items (other than stealing them), so, hopefully, it’s okay. Well, it’s got to be okay because it’s already up on the Internet. And in the morning, Leo will be posting it at the community center. And then we wait.
I’m halfway up the stairs when my phone beeps. I’m so surprised at the noise that I almost don’t recognize it as the sound of a text arriving. My first text from someone other than my parents! At least, I assume it’s not from Madagascar.
One name is flashing on the short list of contacts Amanda programmed in. Bee Boy. I smile. To Amanda, it seems, David will always be Bee Boy. I click on his name, nervous and excited to see what he has to say.
We got a response already!!! Call me!
Call him? I’m supposed to call a boy? Late at night? I thought texting was invented so people didn’t actually have to talk to each other.
Emily’s door is closed, but some shuffling sounds tell me she’s not sleeping yet. I duck across the hall into the bathroom and close the door. Drat that Angelina for making me “be in the game,” as she put it! I take a deep breath and click on his number.
He doesn’t even ask who it is, just jumps right in. “Bucky Whitehead has the violin! Can you believe it?”
It takes me a second, then I say, “You mean that guy from the community center? The one who bought the first box of cookies?”
“That’s him!”
“Wow! Even the second-oldest person in town goes online! My grandparents can’t even find the power button!”
“Hey, when there’s a chance to win a free spoon rest from the Creative Kids Pottery Studio, people can’t pass that up!”