Seth laughs and throws a handful of hay at Mira. “It’s as good an analogy as any, Mira. And I think a nuts analogy is especially apropos for Des.”
Mira’s face shoots up, her eyes wide. Aidan follows suit, staring at Seth, his mouth open, speechless. I look at Seth too, his eyes just the opposite of theirs, narrowing slightly. Smooth. Like a grin. Pushing me. Like I am a normal person.
The silence and tension grow to comical proportions, and I finally grab two handfuls of hay and throw them at Seth, shattering the strained silence. Laughter sputters from my throat, and Mira joins me, laughing and throwing hay too, and soon we are all laughing, hay in our laps, hay in our hair, hay raining down handful after handful. We hold our stomachs, gulping for breath, laughing beyond reason, laughing at the absurdities of ourselves and life.
And then Seth nudges my foot with his, like a private nod from him to me, a small action the others don’t notice, and for a moment I feel intoxicated, connected and belonging to this world like I have never felt before.
Our laughter quiets. Mira wipes her eyes. Aidan blows his nose.
And I do something bold, something I’ve never done. I nudge Seth’s foot back and mouth, Thank you. His eyes crease slightly and his head barely moves, the smallest up-and-down motion.
“This was the best day ever,” Mira says, wiggling her red platform pumps in front of her. “Seth got his dog, Aidan talked to the president, and Des finally got to say good-bye, but I think right now is the best part of the whole day.” Mira’s face is a picture of contentment. We are nestled together on a bed of hay, a tight circle, where secrets and distance have been patted away, no wrinkles for Mira to worry over, no innuendo, no harsh voices or tense glances to be averted. Just the moment and her flashy platform pumps wiggling like everything is right with the world.
And maybe for this one moment, it is.
37
IT IS TIME TO RETURN to Hedgebrook. No one has yet stated the obvious.
We are doomed. At least I am.
It has been the fair day I wished for, but the day is not over. If the snipped ponytail wasn’t enough, the appropriated car and corrupting of three formerly model students will certainly have me shipped off by morning, this time quite possibly to a place with striped uniforms. And the irony is, now for once, I desperately want to stay. I have a reason to stay. But I know a day like today can’t last forever. Even I am not that delusional.
I hold Lucky while Aidan and Seth pull up the leather top of the car. Mira supervises, pointing out the levers to secure it.
“There!” Seth says, pushing down the last clamp. “That should make it a little warmer.” We are all shivering now. Late October is no time to be outside at night and coatless.
“Our jackets!” Mira says. “Let’s get them out of the trunk.”
Hedgebrook and our jackets seem a lifetime away. I had forgotten them, but the boring navy blazers are welcome now. We huddle near the trunk while Seth opens it. A small bulb illuminates the inside and Seth pulls out the bag from Babs’s store that holds our clothes and dispenses the jackets. We eagerly put them on. He points to the back of the trunk at a large cardboard box. “I wonder what’s in it? I saw it this morning, but that was when I thought this was your car.”
“Maybe there’s food? Cookies or something,” Aidan says hopefully.
“Should we peek?” Mira asks.
“Stealing a few cookies won’t add much to our problems at this point,” Seth says. He reaches in and slides it toward us. The top flaps are interlocked, and when Seth pulls on one, they all pop up. He peers in and lifts some tissue. “No cookies. Not even close.”
Mira nudges him aside and looks in too. “Dolls?” She reaches in and pulls one out.
My heart jumps. I recognize the flowing green gown. A Scarlett O’Hara Madame Alexander doll. I thrust Lucky into Aidan’s arms and step past him to look inside. I pull the dolls out, one after the other. Little Red Riding Hood! Cissy in her aqua gown! Lady of Spain! All of them. All the dolls that were missing from my shelf. “These are mine!”
“What?” Seth asks.
“These are my dolls! My collection! The ones that were missing from my shelf!”
“That’s impossible,” Aidan says.
I spot a folded piece of paper in the box and pull it out. I open it and hold it close to the glowing trunk bulb. I read it aloud.
“I thought you would want to keep these. They shouldn’t take up much room at Hedgebrook.—EF.”
I shake my head. I still don’t understand. “How—”
“The glove box!” Seth shouts. “Check the glove box!” But he is already racing to it himself. He shuffles through it, money and paper falling to the floor of the car, until he finally emerges with a white envelope smaller than his palm. He hands it to me. The dim barn light is enough for me to read the neatly printed letters on the front.
Destiny.
My fingers shake as I pull out a pink card. The front has a tiny glittered white birthday cake on it. I open it.
I read it aloud to the others.
“Happy Birthday, Destiny. I think it’s time for you to celebrate. These wheels come with an instructor and lessons. I’ve included some cash for fuel. I hope you like it. And I hope you still like pink. Love, Mr. Farrell.”
“It’s for your birthday,” Seth says, like he has unraveled a great mystery.
I look up at him. I can’t think. He grabs my shoulders and says again, this time very slowly, “He gave you this car for your birthday, Destiny. It was yours all along.”
“That’s right!” Aidan says. “Back at the house, Mr. Farrell said he had sent a little something for her to Hedgebrook.”
“I’ll say it’s a little something!” Mira chimes in. “A big little something!” She and Aidan climb into the back seat with a seemingly newfound appreciation for the car now that it’s mine. Mira runs her hand over the chrome door handles.
“It’s my car,” I say, still stunned. I open my door and get in. I slide my hand across the leather seat. It is not the extravagance of the car that stuns me. It is the thought put into its choice. The color, the model, all different and quirky like me. Mr. Gardian used great care in selecting it and also in its delivery. I am still retracing the steps I took when I stumbled upon it this morning. The messenger who brought it must have stepped away for just a brief moment, perhaps looking for directions. It was supposed to be a surprise. A gift from Mr. Gardian. I’ve had years of kindness and patience from him, kindness I could never fully accept, turning away compliments and encouragement, keeping him at a distance as I did everyone else, but he never wavered in his duty to care for me or failed to pay attention to the subtle cues of my likes and dislikes. Mother and Father chose well. My car. I finger the hole that Lucky chewed in the middle of the seat, and Seth winces.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Just as it is.”
“We could all chip in—”
“Seth, I am probably the wealthiest orphan in the country—at least I will be when I turn twenty-one. If I wanted to fix it a hundred times over, I could. Maybe one day I will. But for now I’ll think of it as a souvenir of this day.”
“I knew you had to be loaded,” Aidan says. “I just didn’t know how loaded.”
“But there’s one thing I still don’t get,” Mira says, leaning over the back of my seat. “Why didn’t you go live with your aunt Edie instead of Mr. Farrell? She is a blood relative, after all.”
My stomach twists. Aunt Edie was the one detail I avoided. I look at Seth and then back to Mira. How much can one person be expected to give up in one day? My perfect aunt. The one who talked for me when I couldn’t. The one who wanted me. The one Mr. Gardian tolerated because he knew I needed her. I feel my lips part, but I can’t force any words between them.
“It’s all right.” Mira plops back in her seat. “You don’t have to tell. You’ve shared enough secrets today.”
“There is no Aunt Edie,” I blurt out. “There never was.”
<
br /> Seth watches me carefully. I am ashamed that I still held back. The car fills with awkward silence.
“What about this morning?” Aidan finally asks. “The note that said she couldn’t come.”
“That was from me. I called the front office and left the message. I’ve always covered for Aunt Edie, to explain her absences.”
“But you just said there is no Aunt Edie. How can you cover for someone who doesn’t exist?”
I turn fully around in my seat to look at Aidan. “Listen, Aidan. For me she did exist. She was exactly the kind of aunt I needed—one who could never be taken away from me. She was someone I wasn’t afraid to love.”
My final word, love, stops him just as he is about to reply. Dipping into emotions is indeed a sticky business, something that I am not used to, either. The only person I allowed that emotion was Aunt Edie, and now she’s outed. I turn around and stare straight ahead into the darkness.
“At least the unmailed letters make more sense now,” Aidan says quietly.
Mira leans forward and pats my shoulder. “I think it’s okay to have an Aunt Edie. Ingenious, really. I wish I had thought of it. Except I would have named her Aunt Lucy. I’ve always liked that name.”
Yes, every wrinkle patted out. I smile. “Thanks, Mira. I think Lucy would have been a fine name too. I may save it for a future use.”
Seth searches through his pockets for the key. “No future use, okay? There’s plenty of real people for you to”—he stops his fidgeting and glances at me.
“Yes?” I say.
“Found it,” he answers, pulling the key out of his left pocket.
I hear Mira smack the seat. “I still can’t believe this gorgeous car is yours.”
“I can,” Aidan says, lifting Lucky over the seat and placing him between me and Seth. “Today I could believe almost anything. She stole her own car.”
“But technically that’s impossible,” Mira corrects. “You can’t steal something you own. So she’s off the hook. We’re all off the hook.”
Seth starts the motor and gets back on the road.
“Off the hook for the car maybe, but not for taking off,” Aidan says. “You know how the headmaster is about making examples of rule breakers.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Aidan is thoroughly and completely right. There will be consequences to pay, severe ones for me, since I am a repeat offender, and certainly stern consequences for the others. But this cloud hanging over us can’t seem to shadow the wonder of the day. Not for any of us. Even Aidan. I hear it in his voice. He talks again about peeing next to the president, sharing his ideas, and maybe even having Congress name a bill after him. Mira has nestled in close on Aidan’s side of the seat, her head boldly resting on his shoulder, and she tells him she believes anything is possible, maybe even a bill named the Aidan Vacation Act. And maybe I believe it too.
Today defies explanation, but for me, life has never been explainable. It’s been a lopsided, illogical, messy affair, where answers are in short supply, but maybe that’s the way it is for everyone. Sometimes the fairness is all bunched up in one place, and all the injustice is bunched up in another, and sometimes it is all bunched up in the most improbable ways, but whatever you get, wherever you are, there are still the moments that pin you to this world when you’d rather float away. Small, in-between moments, where there is magic and purpose and design and they are so perfectly beautiful they ache. Like all the in-between moments of today. Maybe the good guy doesn’t always win. And maybe fairness doesn’t always land where it should. But today felt good, deliciously and wonderfully good, just like I told Mr. Nestor this morning. And sometimes that’s enough.
A three-quarter dollop of moon and a sky that has split open with stars sprinkle silver light on the landscape that we traveled past this morning. Only occasionally is the scenery recognizable. The brilliantly colored trees that stole our attention earlier today must now take a back seat to a sky that touches the earth with its own brilliance. Aidan and Mira have fallen into whispers and giggles with intermittent shrieks from either one pointing out shooting stars. Seth has pulled Lucky closer, or perhaps it was Lucky who nuzzled in of his own accord. I wish I was as brave as Lucky.
As we pass the sign to Drivby, Mira sighs and says, “Before we get back, tell us another one, Des. One more.”
“Another what?”
“One of those amazing stories that you know. You know, the ones filled with chance.”
“Yeah, let’s hear another one,” Aidan agrees.
Seth looks at me and even in the dark I can see his eyebrows rise in surprise. Aidan requesting one of my stories truly marks a once-in-a-lifetime sort of day.
“All right,” I say, not even sure I have another interesting one to share. But then . . . I realize I do. “Once there were four young people, all exceedingly bright—one especially so—and they set off on a road trip. By all accounts, it should have been a disaster. It was that kind of day. A day where things had gone wrong from the start for each of them. But there was something stirring that day, a momentum that took hold of them, something they couldn’t control or hope to explain. And the truly amazing thing—the coincidental part of this story—is that not one of them tried. They just let themselves be swept along by something outside of themselves. And one of them . . . one of them . . . found some things along the road that she had lost—things she didn’t even know she was missing. Things that you can’t hold or touch, like forgiveness, acceptance, and maybe even justice, and that made it all the more amazing because invisible things are so much harder to find. But her friends helped her and four pairs of eyes are always better than one. Four is the perfect number.
“And there was a dog. I can’t forget that part of the story. A beautiful dog named Lucky, but no one knew he was a dog, except for the one who named him. He could see beneath the woolly surface all the way down to the dog’s true nature. He was even able to make Lucky forget about what others thought he was. He was just a dog like any other, even if he didn’t look like a normal one.
“And then the most truly amazing and unexplainable thing happened—the day never ended. It went on and on forever, and none of them could ever forget it because it was always with them. Even when they finally had to say good-bye, the day went on. They called it The Day That Never Ended. I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Cross my baboon heart.”
Mira sighs. “That’s a good one, Des,” she says. “I think that’s my favorite story of all.”
38
WE ARE STILL A MILE from Hedgebrook when Seth notes the traffic.
“I’ve never seen this many cars on this road,” he says. I hear the rise in his voice. It is a question. Mira and Aidan are sitting up leaning over the back of our seats now to get a better view of the stream of cars.
“What do you think’s going on?” Mira asks.
No one answers. I am sure Aidan’s and Seth’s imaginations are running as wild as mine. Is there a manhunt going on for us? A massive search? Did they surmise that I finally snapped and fear what I might have done to my classmates? Is this day going to live up to its history, after all? How fast am I going to be whisked away from Hedgebrook?
As we get closer, Mira points to the helicopters. There are two. At least. And a glow coming from Hedgebrook like it has been turned into a landing strip. Lights like we have never seen. My grip tightens on my knees.
Seth utters an appropriate word for the situation and then apologizes. Aidan repeats it. No apology.
As we turn into the long driveway to Hedgebrook we have to maneuver past cars, vans, and camera crews.
“Channel Eight!” Aidan says.
Seth’s head is swiveling. “World News?”
I grab the steering wheel. “Watch the road!”
“I think we’ve been missed,” Mira says.
Throngs of students fill the lawns. They are all dressed in their Saturday casuals, even though it is not the weekend. This is definitely not a planned Hedgeb
rook activity. Seth parks the car at the curb outside Gaspar Hall, strictly a no-parking zone, but in the chaos it seems irrelevant. Even Aidan doesn’t object.
Seth steps out and reaches back for Lucky. “Come on, fella,” he says, nuzzling Lucky’s face before tucking him snugly under his arm. I catch my breath. The idea of Seth having to say good-bye to Lucky is suddenly much worse than my saying good-bye to Hedgebrook. I wonder how long it will take for someone to spot us, for it all to come crashing down. We get out and make our way over to the crowds. We don’t get far before Jillian and Curtis spot us and run over.
“You owe us big time!” Jillian says.
“We’ve been covering for you all day,” Curtis adds.
“What are you talking about?” Seth asks.
Jillian reaches out and pets Lucky and then kisses his nose like he’s a baby. “Darling,” she says. His stubby little tail wags. “We saw you leave in the car, remember? But ever since the meteor hit this morning, Mrs. Wicket has been checking off students—”
“A meteor?” Aidan says. “What the—?”
“Well, they think that’s what it was. But they’re very rare. Over there—”
We are all walking in the direction Jillian pointed before she can even finish.
“That’s what it was!” Mira says.
“What what was?” Aidan is obviously disconcerted that Mira is on to something before he is and is hurrying to stay close by her side.
“That sound! This morning! It wasn’t a negative giant!”
“Positive giant,” Aidan corrects her. “But it could have been.”
We squeeze through people until we are stopped by a yellow tape. “Could have been, but not this time, Cowboy,” Mira says. “Nooo, sir!”
We stare at the quad, speechless. The green lawn is littered with dirt and rocks and men in white uniforms carrying scientific instruments and reporters daring to get a closer look. In the center, exactly where the grotesque statue of Argus Hedgebrook once stood, is a gaping crater at least twenty feet across, like Argus was the bull’s-eye of a precisely drawn target. The first thought that runs through my mind is justice at last for Argus Hedgebrook, his embarrassing arthritic pose finally laid to rest deep within the earth. I look at the others, their jaws hanging open just like mine. We begin laughing at the same time, like we are all hit at once with the absurd fairness of it all.