13 Gifts (15 page)

He laughs. “Kid, I’m surprised I can still see the nose on my face in the mirror.”

“Sorry,” I say, and squint at it again. “I really think it’s red. I think this is the blanket on our list!”

“You’re kidding,” Bucky says with delight. “How wonderful! Two for the price of none!”

I grin. “Let’s make it four months of trips to the drug store!”

“Deal!” he says. He reaches into the pocket of his shirt and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill and a folded piece of paper. “Just a few items today. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

I finish wrapping up the violin and set it down next to me. “Will you hold on to this while I go to the store?”

“What if someone else comes in and wants to buy it?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

“Well, then I guess I get to keep whatever I’m picking up for you.”

He laughs. It’s an old man’s laugh, punctuated with coughs, but it’s a happy laugh. “Let’s hope for your sake it doesn’t come to that.”

When I get outside the first thing I do is text David. It’s hard to type with your thumbs! It takes a lot of backspacing and correcting before I get the hang of it.

Hi david! Tell everyone I got the violin! And guess what. I got the blanket, too! Full story later. We have to go to the drugstore for him for 4 months!

I hop on my bike and ride the few blocks to the store. It occurs to me about halfway there that since I’ll only be here for the summer, the others are going to have to uphold the rest of my bargain with Bucky. If things end badly, well, they’re really not going to be happy about that.

There’s no bike rack near the drugstore so I have to leave it outside and take my chances that no one wants a kid’s bike with a banana seat and a brand-new (used) basket. As I step into the store I notice my phone is flashing. David’s reply must have come while I was riding.

Mazel Tov! (that means congratulations! You know, another Jewish thing, like the tomato?) Hiding in bathroom stall right now so phone doesn’t get
taken away. And we got another email! I went to the computer lab and checked. One of the Larrys at the music store says he knows where the wooden key is! Says he gives a lady piano lessons in her house and he’s seen it there. Amanda says she’s her neighbor! We’ll call you at lunch with the deets.

I reply:
I know what mazel tov means! I wasn’t born under a rock, you know! You are a strange boy who spells out congratulations and not details. Hurrah on the key!

I have to admit, texting is fun. No wonder Rory’s bummed about her phone. I pull Bucky’s list out of my pocket and read it over for the first time. I quickly fold it back up again, aghast. I’m not one to embarrass easily, but come on!
Bunion cream? Nose-hair clippers? Easy-In, Easy-Out Fiber Suppositories?
I shudder. Getting old is not pretty. The only thing NOT embarrassing on the list is a Valentine’s Day card. And even that’s kind of embarrassing because I have to ask for one in the middle of June.

I refuse to ask for the first three, so it takes me forever to find them. I’m the only person under sixty browsing these sections. I make a mental note of their locations on the shelf, in case these are recurring purchases. It turns out they
do
have Valentine’s Day cards in June, in the sliding drawers below the regular cards.

“No school today?” the clerk asks me as she pulls out a few cards for me to choose from.

“I’m just visiting Willow Falls,” I explain as I drop one of the heart-shaped cards into my basket, along with a red envelope. “My school’s already over for the year.”

“What do you think of the town?”

“It’s … different.”

When she smiles, her olive-colored skin practically glows. “Yes, it is. My family just moved here about a year and a half ago. We’re still getting used to it.”

Mom’s warning about risking a green tongue by talking to strangers is tucked far away in my mind as the woman tells me her favorite place to get donuts and that the shoe store has really good sales in the summer. Not that I’m in the market for donuts or shoes, but she’s very easy to talk to. Since she seems to know a lot about the stores in town, I gather my nerve and say, “I was wondering … have you ever been inside that store at the end of the alley? Angelina’s Sweet Repeats and Collectibles?” I hold my breath as I wait for her reply. I’ve got to know if it’s only David who can’t see inside, or everyone else, too.

Her face lights up again. “That’s my aunt’s store!”

My jaw drops. “Angelina is your aunt?”

She nods. “Technically she’s a distant aunt. I’ve never been entirely clear on how we’re related.”

“Your
aunt
?” I repeat.

“Wait a second,” the woman says, pursing her lips. “Did she say anything to you?”

“Say anything … like what?” I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea. I try to put on an innocent face, but she’s not buying it.

“Argh! She promised me she wouldn’t meddle in other people’s lives. She drove poor Rory crazy last year!”

“You know Rory?” I ask, incredulous. Talk about your small towns!

“You
know Rory?” she asks, equally surprised. “Wait, are we talking girl Rory or boy Rory?”

“There’s a boy Rory?”

She nods. “Cute kid. Not the sharpest crayon in the box. Anyway, Rory and Auntie Angelina had a run-in and … well, I guess it’s not really my story to tell.”

I already knew about the drainpipe, but now I wonder what more important things Rory left out of the story. No wonder she thinks Leo and Amanda deserve their secrets. She has her own.

“I better get back with this,” I say, swinging the basket, then wishing I hadn’t when the boxes on the bottom jostle for attention. I really don’t want Angelina’s niece to think I have a nose hair problem. Or worse!

“Well, it was very nice to meet you,” she says.

“You, too.”

“Tell Rory that I said hi. My name’s Lynn, by the way. Rory helped me get my first job in town, at the bookstore.”

Why doesn’t it surprise me that Rory did something nice for someone?

I pay for the four items (not even remotely looking the cashier in the eye) and leave the store. My tongue does not turn green.

On the way back, I stop at the diner to give Annie the money for the cookies. “You sold them all?” she asks, beaming.

I nod, placing the wrinkled dollars and assorted coins into her hands. I don’t think it’s necessary to tell her I bought the last three boxes myself.

“Well, color me impressed!” she says. “Thank you!”

“I had help,” I assure her.

“It’s strange,” she says, looking over at the umbrella stand by the door, “not seeing that old cane in there. When I was little, my dad used to make up stories for me. You know, about the
person who left it here. One week it would be a fugitive on the run from the law. The next it would be a traveling salesman who had just sold his last vacuum cleaner; the next week it was the tooth fairy.” She gives me a sad smile, then grabs two menus and leads an elderly couple to a booth.

Now I feel bad about taking it. If I have any money left by the time Angelina puts the cane up for sale, I’m determined to buy it back for Annie.

After I give Bucky his goodies and collect the blanket and violin, I stop and check the bulletin board. Well, you can’t miss our flyer. It was Amanda’s idea to print it out on hot-pink paper, and I can see why. No one’s going to look at the announcement for the next bingo tournament or the offer of a free house cleaning, while ours screams, LOOK AT ME, OVER HERE!

About halfway down the list, next to the line about the black leather-bound Bible with the book of Genesis repeated twice, someone scribbled the initials
WC.
Someone named WC has the Bible! I do a quick tally in my head. Cane, basket, violin, blanket, key, and now Bible! We’re almost halfway done! In only two days! Maybe there really is nothing to worry about.

My phone rings, and Amanda’s name pops up. A few women playing cards nearby give me the stink eye. I hurry back outside and tell her the good news about the blanket and the Bible.

“That’s great!” she says. “I don’t know anyone named WC, but my parents and Leo’s are looking into the apple wine. They don’t have any but they’re asking some other relatives.”

“What’s the story with the key?”

“Mrs. Grayson, my neighbor, has it! At least according to one of the Larrys.”

“He must hae been looking at it pretty close to read the tiny print on the side.”

“It’s strange, I know. This could be a total dead end, but we have to try.”

We make arrangements to meet later and before we hang up, she asks, “What did Bucky ask you to get from the drug store?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Chapter Sixteen

 

Mrs. Grayson is not home when we ring her bell
after school. She’s not home at dinnertime. Nor is she home when I ride all the way over there the next morning. For three days we wait for her to come home, and for more people to write to us. But none do. We’ve scanned the phone book and the school directory for someone with the initials
WC.
We had high hopes for William Cantor and Wanda Chesterton. But neither of them had any knowledge of a Bible with two books of Genesis. We even tried Rory’s idea of knocking on random doors to use their bathroom, but all we discovered is that a lot of people — young or old — have
People
magazine in their bathrooms. But no knife, shawl, fish-shaped candlestick, purple bottle, trunk, or apple wine.

I’m getting a bit jittery with each passing day. To keep myself occupied when Emily’s at school, I’ve been trying to write my essay. It’s harder than I thought it would be. After deleting the first five beginnings, I decided I can’t say I’m at the camp. It would be disrespectful to all the kids who actually are there. All Mrs. Schafer asked for is for me to say what I learned from my experiences, and I’m surprised to see I’ve learned a lot in the last week. So far I have the following:

I have learned that doing something for the wrong reason will likely backfire on you. It may also backfire on you if you do it for the right reason.

I have learned that when traveling by train always go first class if someone offers you a ticket.

But I have also learned that if you don’t want to lose your money or your iPod while traveling on aforementioned train, glue it to your body.

Thanks to Google, I have learned that even though a hawk can fly over 250 miles a day, it’s not fast enough to beat a train.

I have learned that some people love math because either the equation works or it doesn’t. There is no gray area. If everything in life was clearly wrong or clearly right, I would be much happier.

I have learned that a piece of the Torah (which is like the Jewish bible) is inside a little box on some people’s doorways and they kiss it to remind themselves of what it teaches.

I’ve learned that old men need a lot of upkeep.

I’ve learned that it’s possible to eat from a different take-out restaurant every night and not get tired of it.

I’ve learned to make sure the lock is not turned before you close a door.

I have learned that there are some towns where special forces are at work, and you can’t tell if you live in one of these towns until strange things start to happen to you.

I’ve learned that if you hide a violin in a storage shed and don’t wrap it tight enough, a mouse might make a home inside it and scare you half to death when you find it.

I’ve learned that Sunshine Kid cookies do
not
taste good. Even with ketchup.

I’ve learned that if you tell an Australian person that they talk funny, their accent will get even stronger and they’ll get all agro on you and start a furphy that you’re really a spy sent to town to report back to your home planet.

 

I’m not sure what I have so far qualifies as an essay yet, but I save it under T
ARA’S
E
SSAY
anyway. And then, since the whole family uses this computer, I password-protect it.

Finally, on Friday morning, Amanda texts me from the school bus that Mrs. Grayson got home late the night before. I’m supposed to meet them at Amanda’s house at noon, since school is a half day because of final exams. I reply that I’ll be there and then run upstairs to change out of my pajamas. Today I finally feel ready to wear one of the outfits Aunt Bethany bought me. I wondered during the week if she was going to say something about me not wearing any of them, but she never did. No way could my mom have held off that long. I think Mom would be pleased that I’m picking up on the differences between the
sisters. It’s like my own little sociological research project. I choose a pink shirt and matching pink shorts. I feel like a strawberry marshmallow.

Ray finds me in the backyard, inspecting my bike tires. “Howdy there, partner. I see you are all up in the pink today. Very sharp.”

I look up from the bike. “Why are you talking like that?” “Like what?”

“Even weirder than usual.”

He says each word very slowly and drawn out. “I am trying out for a television commercial and they want an all-American-boy type. So I am attempting to talk like one. How am I doing now?”

“You sound like a robot.”

“Yes, but an
American
robot?”

“I guess it could be an American robot,” I admit. “So you’re an actor, too? Besides a personal assistant and a glassblower?”

“What I really want to do is direct,” he says with a wink. Then he points to the front tire. “Got a hole there. Bet Roger’s got a patch up in the lab. Want me to check?”

I jump up. “No, I’ll go.” This is my chance! I’d been afraid to go in there the past few days after running into my uncle. But now I have a reason. I take the steps two at a time, although I know no one else is home.

For one crazy second, the magazine pile appears to have disappeared. In its place is a lumpy green Jell-O-like substance slowly oozing onto the rug. I think it actually
is
Jell-O. Then I see the pile about four feet to the left.

One by one, I thrust the dusty magazines aside. I should have paid more attention to the covers, because they all look the same! I have to shake each one out until finally my
Fantastic Four
reveals itself. To be on the safe side, I stick it back inside the
Inventors Digest
and restack the pile. I turn to go as Ray steps into the room.

“Did you find it?” he asks.

“Find what?” I ask, a little too guiltily.

He glances down at the magazine in my hand. Is it too thick? Is it obvious something is stuck inside it?

“Did you find the patch,” he says, enunciating each word. “For your tire.”

“No. Robot. Ray. I. Did. Not. Find. It. Yet.”

He laughs. “I didn’t sound like that.”

“You kinda did.”

“I think the patch is in here,” he says, poking through a big box on the desk. “By the way, totally bonza of you to take an interest in your uncle’s work. He’s happier than a clam at high tide.”

“I’m just gonna go put this in my room,” I tell him, not meeting Ray’s eyes as I hurry past him. I already feel guilty enough about everything; Ray’s “clam” comment just makes it worse. Now I’m really going to have to read one of these magazines.

If Ray hadn’t come upstairs, I’d be able to replace the comic in its rightful home right now. As is, I can’t take the chance. He always seems to turn up exactly when I don’t want him to. I hide the magazine with the comic inside in my suitcase and
slide it back under the bed. Then, with a quick kiss to Jake, I rejoin Ray in the lab.

“Found it,” he announces, holding up a small plastic bag with a square piece of rubber inside.

Five minutes later I’m munching on an apple while he fixes the hole in my bike. “I could get used to this,” I tell him, tilting my face toward the sun.

“Just doing my job,” he says cheerily, stretching the tire back around the rim. “All done. You gonna ride or do you want it back in the shed?”

“I’ll ride it,” I say, hurrying over. I close the shed door as nonchalantly as possible. The four objects we found so far from Angelina’s list are all the way in the back in a cardboard box. Rory had offered to store them for me, but I still feel like it should be my responsibility.

I toss the apple core in the bike basket along with a bottle of water and climb on. Amanda’s house is a few miles away, and I have just enough time to make it. “Thanks for your help.”

“Have a fun arvo with your mates.”

“Okay,” I say, hoping an arvo isn’t a bad thing.

I’m about to start peddling when he says, “Hold up a sec.”

I peer around at the back wheel. “What, is my tire still flat?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about a cane, a violin, a blanket, and a basket in a box in the shed?”

I wobble on the bike. Ray reaches out and grabs a handlebar to steady it. When I don’t answer due to my throat suddenly closing up, he continues. “Because — funny thing — someone
in town seems to be looking for all that stuff. And a bunch more, too. Saw it online.”

I try to talk, but it comes out more like a squeak.

“If you pinched those things,” he says, sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him, “someone out there’s gonna spit the dummy.”

“I didn’t pinch them,” I insist, finding my voice. “How did you find them?”

“I was looking around in there yesterday for some pieces of plaster your uncle needed. Stumbled on the box and recognized the stuff from the list on the town website.”

“You
go on the town’s website?”

“Won a free pound of bagels last week.”

“Why would you think the stuff in the box was mine?”

“Wasn’t hard to nut out. In the year I’ve been here, you’re the only person to go near that shed.”

My brain spins as I try to figure out how much I can tell him. This secret-keeping business is very confusing. Finally I say, “My friends and I are the ones trying to find the things on that list. It’s a real job; like, we’re getting paid and everything. Nothing shady, I promise.”

“Then what’s with the hiding?”

I realize I’m going to have to be even more forthcoming if I expect him to drop this. “I don’t want my aunt and uncle to know that I need the money. They’d offer to give it to me, and I wouldn’t feel right.”

“I see,” he says, rubbing his chin. “Well, that sounds commendable. I guess I can help, then.”

“Help?” I’m not sure I like the sound of that.

“I happen to know the whereabouts of one of the things on the list.”

“You do? Which one?”

“What do I get if I tell you?” he teases.

“Well, I can help you practice for your commercial.”

“Okay,” he agrees. “It’s the knife. But I don’t think the dude who’s got it is gonna part with it.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, last night at the pub he said, ‘No way am I handing over this knife to no one. Somebody wants this knife, they’re gonna have to take it over my dead body.’”

My eyes widen. “He said that?”

He shakes his head. “No. But he did say it would take three hundred bucks.”

I sigh. “That’s just as bad.”

“He’s seriously attached to it. I’ve seen him pick his teeth with it after wings, then polish it clean.”

“He sounds like a great guy.”

“You’ll really like him. A people person, just like you.” He grins. It’s hard to stay frustrated with Ray when he flashes that smile.

I check my phone to see what time it is. “I’m going to be late now to meet everyone. Can you drive me across town to Amanda’s?”

“I can do that.”

“Promise me you won’t embarrass me in any way.”

“That I can’t do.”

The others are waiting on the curb outside Amanda’s house when we pull up in Ray’s beat-up old Ford. We’d practiced his lines for the commercial on the way and he’s getting a tiny bit better. He gets out of the car and salutes the group. Then in his best American accent he says, “Hello there, young people of America. Is it not a lovely day?”

“Who’s the robot that looks like Ray?” David asks.

I figure I might as well jump right in, so I say, “Ray knows we’re the ones who posted the list.”

Everyone exchanges worried glances.

Ray makes the locking-mouth-throwing-away-key gesture.

I continue. “The good thing is that he knows where we can find the knife.”

The others jump up from the curb. Amanda’s and Leo’s blackboards both hit them on their chins. They’re so used to it they don’t even flinch.

Ray shakes his head. “I’m telling you, Big Joe isn’t going to give it up for less than three hundred bucks.”

“We haven’t failed yet,” Rory says confidently.

“Let’s try to get the key first,” Amanda says. “Then we’ll worry about the knife.”

We turn toward the door, with Ray walking right along with us. I stop. “Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re waiting in the car.”

“Why? I can be very charming. Ladies love the accent.” He winks at Amanda, who blushes.

I roll my eyes. “We shouldn’t overwhelm Mrs. Grayson with a lot of people.”

Ray grumbles, but turns back around. The rest of us go on, and Amanda rings the bell. Mrs. Grayson opens the door in a red flannel shirt and jeans. Her graying hair peeks out from underneath a sun hat.

“Amanda and Leo! Lovely to see you. And hello, Amanda’s other friends.”

Amanda and Leo give her a hug, and then Amanda introduces me, Rory, and David.

“Nice to meet you all,” she says. “What can I do for you? Seems like you’re a little old to be selling cookies.” She laughs.

“Way too old,” Rory agrees.

“Definitely,” David and I say at the same time.

“Can we come in for a minute?” Amanda asks. “We wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure.” Mrs. Grayson backs up and holds the door open for us. We file into the front hall and wait for Amanda to ask for the key. We decided she would be our best chance.

“Have you gone onto the Willow Falls website lately?” Amanda asks.

Mrs. Grayson shakes her head. “I’ve been away. Why, did I miss something? Or wait, did I win something? I’ve been eying that five-dollar gift certificate to the bowling alley!”

We laugh. Amanda shakes her head. “Sorry, you didn’t win anything this week. But, well, we posted this list up there of a bunch of stuff we’re looking for around town, and you might have one of the things on the list. A wooden key? With the words
Made in Willow Falls 1974
carved in it?”

She smiles. “I do indeed have that key. And someone wants it?”

We nod.

“But why? I’m sure it’s not worth anything.”

“A collector we know is looking for a whole bunch of things from town,” I tell her. “We’d be willing to pay you, or run errands, mow your lawn, anything you need.”