“Nonsense,” my dad says, swinging my mom around to the dance floor. “This is knee-slappin’ music!” Mom giggles and lets herself be twirled around.
Leo leans in closer and shouts, “I guess she didn’t get fired yet?”
I shake my head and shout, “I took her cell phone out of her purse before we came!”
Leo nods appreciatively. “Nice!”
“Let’s go inside,” I shout.
We make our way through the crowd of laughing kids — many holding their hands over their ears — and stumble into the kitchen. Piles of plastic cups line the countertop, along with soda and juices of every kind. Leo pours us each a cup of lemonade and says, “A hundred years ago, our great-great-grandfathers made a toast to their friendship, so I thought we should, too.”
He raises his cup into the air, but I lower mine. “Are we just doing this because they did it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Having our party together, and this toast. Are we doing it to break the enchantment, or because we want to?”
He lowers his own cup. “Well, if all this wasn’t happening to us, wouldn’t you still want to have our parties together?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “And if I had to be stuck in time with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“Me too.” He raises his cup again and I tap mine to it. We both drink and then grab our throats. He chokes out the words, “Real lemons, no sugar.”
Stephanie walks in, arm in arm with Mena. “Hey, Leo!” she says. “Great party! Really bad band!” Mena just looks bored. But that’s how she usually looks.
“Nice ears,” Leo says, pointing at Stephanie’s elf ears.
Stephanie unlinks her arm and reaches up. When she feels them, her face reddens and she tugs them off.
“So, Amanda,” Mena says, digging through a bowl of chips. “You’ll have to work on that back handspring over the summer if you want to be ready to compete.”
“Compete?” Leo asks, turning to me.
“Oh, yeah. I made the gymnastics team!” I say with more excitement than I feel. I hadn’t thought at all about the competing part.
“You did?” Leo couldn’t be more shocked. “Wow, you’ve been busy today.”
“C’mon, Steph,” Mena says, “let’s go find the bathroom.” They link their arms together again, and Steph waves as Mena pulls her down the hall.
“I only tried out because I thought it would help Stephanie, you know, to have me with her on the team.”
“But I thought you didn’t want to do it.”
“I just want this birthday to end. I wasn’t really thinking about the consequences. It doesn’t really matter. I’m the worst person on the team, I’ll probably never have to compete.”
Kids are starting to make their way inside, away from the band. Jimmy Dawson calls out, “Hey, Dorothy, how’s Oz these days?” but he says it in a nice way.
Before we’re completely surrounded, Leo whispers, “If we did everything right today, then you’ll have the whole summer to practice. And if we didn’t, you’ll just have to try out again tomorrow.”
“We did,” I whisper confidently. “I know we did. What more could we have done?”
Leo’s mom sticks her head in the room. “Amanda! You’re wanted on the dance floor!”
I put any doubts out of my mind as I let Mrs. Fitzpatrick drag me onto the dance floor where I finally get to kick off my shoes. The band is playing some kind of jig that’s totally impossible to dance to, but I’m having fun. I finally feel right where I’m supposed to be — celebrating my birthday with Leo and all our friends and families. For a split second I think I catch sight of Angelina by the snow cone machine. Does she know about the break-in? Is she going to tell our parents? But when I look closer, it’s just a crowd of kids jostling to scoop out cups of purple ice. I shake my head to clear it of the image of a waddling duck. After all, Leo put the journal back behind the drawer, and we closed the back window. At least I’m pretty sure we closed the back window.
If we forgot, we’ll just go tomorrow and apologize. Maybe even volunteer for a couple of hours answering visitors’ questions about Willow Falls’s history. Somehow Angelina is involved in all this. And someday I’d like to know how. But for now it’s enough that it’s over. Tomorrow I’m going to sleep for a long, long time. And then I’m going to open my presents.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nothing in the whole entire world sounds worse than the beep beep beep of my alarm clock. When I hear it this morning I lie still at first, in utter disbelief. Then I calmly get out of bed, unplug the alarm clock, and throw it out the window with all my might. It tangles in the tree branches then falls with a satisfying crash onto the dirt below. I’m about to kick the SpongeBob balloon, but before my foot strikes his yellow sponge belly, I make myself stop. It’s not his fault he’s still here.
Like a zombie, I get dressed and scribble the periodic table that I hadn’t made last night because I didn’t think I’d need it. Before Kylie gets back from her run I duck into her room to use the phone she got installed last month for her thirteenth birthday.
Leo’s dad answers on the first ring. Instead of a simple hello, he says, “Top of the morning to you,” when he picks up.
“Um, this is Amanda, can I speak to Leo?”
“Amanda!” he thunders happily. “So wonderful to hear your voice! Happy birthday!”
“It’s not that happy,” I mutter.
“Leo’s going to be thrilled to hear from you,” he continues. “He’s been moping around all morning. He feels terrible about what happened last year, you know.”
“I know.”
“Let me put him on. I hope we’ll see you tonight?”
I sigh. “Pretty sure you will.”
Leo gets on the phone. His dad must still be standing there because Leo says, “Amanda! So great to hear from you. I’m so sorry about our fight. I was a total jerk. Let’s make up. What’s that? You forgive me? You’re the best! I’ll meet you when your bus pulls into school and we’ll talk.”
When he finally pauses to take a breath, I ask, “Leo, what did we do wrong?”
“I don’t know,” he replies, “but we’re going to find out.” His voice muffles a bit and I figure he’s got his hand over the mouthpiece. “Keep doing what the journal said. Help whoever you can.”
“What are you doing?” Kylie demands, walking in on me.
“Gotta go,” I tell Leo. “See you at the bus stop.”
“I’m sorry for using your phone,” I tell her, not up for a fight right now. “I needed to call Leo.”
“Leo?” she asks, clearly caught off guard. “Why? Shouldn’t he be the one to call you after all this time?”
I want to point out that she’s the one who’s planning on asking a boy out today, but that wouldn’t go over very well. I answer honestly. “This is a really hard day for me. I woke up this morning and really needed to talk to him.”
Grabbing her clean clothes from her drawers, she says, “Why is this such a hard day for you? It’s only your eleventh birthday. Try turning thirteen, that’s MUCH harder.”
“That’s just it!” I shout, finally cracking. “It’s NOT only my eleventh birthday. It’s my ELEVENTH eleventh birthday!”
“Huh?”
I throw up my hands in despair. “I’m never going to HAVE a thirteenth birthday! I’m never going to have a SATURDAY again!”
She stares at me, her clothes dangling at her sides. “Uh, maybe you should talk to Mom and Dad about whatever you’re, uh, going through. I need to get in the shower.”
I grab the pink T-shirt from her hand. “Please, PLEASE, wear something else! I can’t see you in this one more time!”
She snatches it back from me. “I haven’t worn this shirt for three weeks! Now get out of my room! We have to take the bus today and you’re going to make us miss it!” She points to the door and I storm through it. She goes into the bathroom and slams the door. I’m at
a loss for what to do. Might as well still help who I can, like Leo said. I gather the stuff for Dad’s get-well bag, and present it to him in the kitchen. He wishes me the usual happy birthday, and I try to be cheery, but inside I’m screaming. When Mom comes in I make sure she has the correct poster and get the usual hug of gratitude in return. I make sure Kylie has her lunch and her poster, and that we get to the bus on time.
When the doors of the bus open I hurry on before Kylie, refusing to look up at the driver. He’ll just remind me that the one person we need to find has disappeared. Kylie’s poster bumps me in the back, and I stop walking and turn around. This time I see her expression when her eyes land on Dustin and Alyssa. Her eyes sort of freeze, and then she squeezes past me to join her best friend, Jen. She immediately starts laughing at something Jen says, but this time I can tell the laugh is forced. In her haste she dropped her poster, and I push it into the empty row behind the driver. It’s not until I throw myself into the seat that I look up and see the back of the driver’s head. I’d recognize that white hair anywhere. I run around the seat to face her.
“You!” I yell. A hush falls over the front of the bus. “You have a lot of explaining to do!”
“Please sit while the bus is in motion,” she says sweetly, not even turning to look at me.
“But you … and then … but …” I know I’m not making any sense.
“Please sit while the bus is in motion,” she repeats, firmer this time.
My mouth opens and then shuts again.
“Sit down, Amanda!” Kylie shouts. “You’re going to get hurt!”
With a last glare at Angelina, I turn around and hold on to the back of the seat for balance. I sit down as the bus pulls up to Ruby’s stop. I force myself to ask her if she needs help with her duffel. She declines, as I knew she would. “You’re gonna do great today!” I assure her as she pushes by me. Might as well tell her this now, since there’s no way I’m trying out again. What’s the point?
When Stephanie gets on I move closer to the window and slide down so she doesn’t see me. If she doesn’t see me, I won’t have to explain why I’m not getting off the bus when it arrives at school. I stay low and face the window until the bus empties. Even Kylie walks right by me. When I watch her go down the stairs, I remember I had stashed her poster under the seat. I reach down and grab it. But she’s already gone. Looking around I see the LEGO kid, Jonathan, heading down the aisle. “Here,” I say, thrusting it at him. “It’s my sister, Kylie’s. If you give it to her she’ll be really grateful.”
His surprise turns to understanding. “Thanks!” He hurries out of the bus, the poster clutched tightly in his hand.
When the last person exits, I get up and walk to the top of the stairs. Leo is standing there, looking around for me. I call out to him, and wave him onto the bus. He hurries up the stairs and trips when he recognizes Angelina. He barely misses hitting his chin on the step. Once he scrambles to his feet, she presses the button to close the door.
“Please sit while the bus is in motion,” she says.
“But you owe us —” Leo begins.
I pull him down into the aisle seat across from me. “Trust me, she won’t talk while she’s driving.”
Angelina parks the bus at the edge of the parking lot and turns off the engine. “Come,” she says, opening the door. “Let’s go for a walk.”
At a loss for words, we obediently follow her to one of the picnic tables where the eighth graders have lunch on nice days.
She sits across from us and folds her hands on the table. She looks thoughtful, but doesn’t speak.
“You owe us an explanation,” Leo says firmly. “You knew a lot more than you told us.”
Calmly she replies, “One might argue that you knew more than I did. After all, you had the benefit of reading Leonard Fitzpatrick’s diary.”
“How did you know that?” Leo sputters.
“For one, you left the back window open —”
“I knew it!” I mutter.
“And then there were the footprints on the couches from your little celebration.”
“Oh, sorry,” Leo says sincerely. “But why didn’t you tell us about the diary before?”
“I was not aware of its existence,” she replies.
“So you haven’t read it?” I ask.
“Oh, no, I have,” she says. “Once I found the loose drawer, I was able to find the diary. I had not known until then how the enchantment played itself out. Alexander Smithy’s journal had proved less than accurate.”
“Yeah, about that,” Leo says, “why did you bother to steal it when you work there? Couldn’t you just have read it, you know, on your lunch break?”
“That would have been difficult,” she says matter-of-factly, “since I don’t actually work there.”
“You don’t?” we exclaim together.
“I don’t drive your bus, either,” she admits.
My jaw falls open. “What?”
“We have a lot more important things to worry about,” Angelina insists gently. “Let us get back to the subject at hand.”
With effort, I swallow all my questions and say, “Okay, so you read Leonard’s diary. Now you know the enchantment was real and you know how our great-great-grandparents broke free of it.”
“Oh, but they did not break free of it,” she says. “And you are living proof of that.”
“But they did,” I argue. “They stopped Harvest Day from repeating.”
She shakes her head. “But that was not the point. When I cast the enchantment, it was to —”
Leo and I jump up from the table so fast we fall backward over the picnic bench and wind up in a heap on the ground. “What?” we yell as we scramble back onto the bench. “You cast the enchantment? How is that possible?” Off in the background the bell rings for first period but I barely notice.
She pulls her thin sweater tightly around herself. “My family has a lot of, shall we say, longevity in it. We tend to stick around a while.”
“So you started all this?” I can’t believe it.
“Hadn’t mentioned that before, eh?”
“Probably slipped your mind with all the other things you left out,” Leo snaps.
“Now, now, young man, there’s no need to get hostile.”
Leo jumps up again. “Hostile? Hostile? We’ve been trapped in the same day over and over again, because of YOU, and you don’t expect us to be hostile?”
I pull Leo back down onto the bench. “Shhh, let her talk.”
Leo crosses his arms, but shuts up.
“Don’t you think I feel bad about what’s happening to you? I do, truly. That’s why I’m here today. I thought by now the enchantment would have ended and I would not have to get involved. It is never a good idea for the enchanter to entangle herself in her enchantment. Very messy.” She gives a big sigh. “I best start at the beginning. The enchantment was for Rex and Leonard to end their feud and to become friends. I gave them a period of one year — no more — and when they couldn’t solve their differences during that time, well, time simply halted until they could figure out a way to be friends.”
“Which they did,” Leo points out, “by being good neighbors and helping the town.”
“Yes and no,” Angelina says. “All they needed to do was to become friends. The fact that they helped others in the process, well, that was its own reward. All they needed to do was end their day with a toast to their friendship. That’s what worked.”
“I offered to carry Ruby’s duffel for no reason?” I blurt out.
“Nothing nice you ever do for anyone is for no reason. Didn’t helping the others feel good?”
I watch the duck wiggle on Angelina’s cheek as I consider her question. It did feel good to help my family and Bee Boy. I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a finger and says, “Let me finish. Your great-great-grandfathers’ lives returned to normal, but the enchantment still lay upon them. If ever they fought for a year’s time again, they??
?d wind up in the same position, as would any of their descendants still living in Willow Falls. Amanda, when your family moved back here for your birth, the enchantment started all over again.”
“Okay,” I jump in, “as crazy as all that sounds, I think I understand. But Leo and I made up days ago, and last night we toasted our friendship just like you said.”
“Yeah,” agrees Leo. “So why is it still our birthday?”
Angelina shifts a bit in her seat. “Well, I’m not sure, to be honest with you. I thought having your party together last night would have done it. I was so certain. I tried to protect you years ago so this wouldn’t happen.”
Leo frowns. “How did you try to protect us?”
She looks from one of us to the other, then asks, “Do you recall a time before your fifth birthday, you two stopped talking for a few weeks?”
We both shake our heads.
“No? Well, there was some hopscotch incident on the playground, and you didn’t speak after that.”
“I don’t play hopscotch,” Leo is quick to assure us.
“Anyway,” Angelina continues, “I realized back then that if you actually stayed mad at each other for a year, you would have found yourselves in this situation before you were six years old! Imagine going through this at that age.”
I shiver involuntarily at that thought.
“After a few weeks, you made up, but it was a close call. So I got to work on a plan that I thought would keep the enchantment at bay, at least until you were out of high school.” She sighs again and shakes her head sadly. “But I obviously failed, because here you are.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell her. “What was your plan?”
“It was those little plants you made at the pottery store for your fifth birthday.”