13 Gifts (9 page)

“He writes books about them now,” I tell him.

He slaps his thigh. “Man, that’s great! Just great!”

“Wow,” Rory says, peering over my shoulder, “you weren’t kidding about your dad being really tall. Have you ever seen this picture before?”

I nod, handing the book back to her father. “My parents used to have it up on their bedroom wall.” As I say it, I realize I haven’t seen it in the last few houses. Was it lost in a move somewhere?

This time I climb into the car last so I’m squished up next to a window. I spend the ride back into town staring out of it, wondering how I’m ever going to come up with the money to get David a gift. I tune out the conversation in the car, which has turned to talk of final exams next week. What if they actually ask me to hang out again, only next time they want to get ice cream or go to a movie? I won’t even have pocket money to pay for any of that stuff. Plus, I still have to figure out a way to replace Mom’s iPod before the end of the summer.

Probably, Aunt Bethany and Uncle Roger would give me any money I needed, but I don’t want to feel even more indebted to
them. They’re already housing and feeding me. Plus, how could I ask them to lie and not tell my parents that I lost the money? Me lying is bad enough; I can’t ask others to lie for me. And, as much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, my pride is at stake. It’s just embarrassing that I couldn’t hold on to the two most important things my parents entrusted me with.

I’m deep in thought about how I could take advantage of my height and pretend to be older in order to get a job somewhere in town, when Jake Harrison’s name reaches my ears. I can’t help but tune back in.

Next to me, Amanda asks, “When does the movie open again?”

I blurt out, “In six weeks!” exactly as Rory gives the same answer from the front seat.

Leo and David groan. “Looks like we have another Jake Harrison fan on our hands,” David says.

Amanda grins. “I don’t think Rory can be considered a fan anymore.”

Rory twists around and glares at Amanda. She gestures ever so slightly toward her dad.

Amanda mouths the word
sorry.
David giggles and Rory glares at him, too, before turning back around. I look out the window again. I’m probably supposed to wonder what that was all about, but nearly thirteen years of not getting interested in other people’s lives has trained me well. The only reason I’m even mildly curious this time is because it has to do with Jake. How could someone be a fan and then stop being one? Whatever the reason, Rory obviously doesn’t want to discuss it in front of her father. I don’t blame her. I would never want to talk about
boys in front of my dad, either. Not that I could imagine an occasion where that would ever come up.

My thoughts turn to Dad’s inscription in the yearbook. He was clearly just as smitten with my mom back then as he is today. The little cartoon he drew was pretty funny. He used to draw whole comic books for me when I was younger. He always made me a superhero of one kind or another — kindergartner by day, vanquisher of evil by night. His comics would probably give most little kids nightmares, but I loved them. Mom told me once that Dad thought about writing and illustrating comics for a living, but he didn’t think he could make enough money at it.

I start recognizing houses and realize we’re only a block away from my aunt’s. If Dad hadn’t given up, maybe one of
his
comics would be in Uncle Roger’s Collectibles Room. Maybe an early edition of
The Day Tara the Great Destroyed the Zombie Queen and Then Ate a Grilled Cheese Sandwich
would be worth a ton of money.

I sit up straighter in my seat.
A ton of money!
For
one
comic. Hadn’t Emily said her father had duplicates of some of the ones in his collection? Would he really notice if one went missing? That room looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. I mean, I could write my name in the dust on some of those shelves.

As I climb out of the car, Rory calls out, “Hey, do you want to come with us to the Willow Falls Diner after school tomorrow? They have great chocolate-chip pancakes.”

Well, that was fast. I hesitate, one hand still on the door handle. This day was hard enough. How long until they figure out I have nothing to offer their merry little band?

But it’s Rory asking, and like I said before, Rory = Hard to Say No To.

“Okay,” I reply. “Thanks.” I watch from the porch as Rory’s dad pulls around the circular driveway. I keep standing there long after the car has disappeared down the street. I can’t make myself go inside, because once I do, I’m going to have exactly twenty-two hours to figure out how to steal a comic book and sell it without getting caught.

And that will be the worst thing I’ve ever done.

Chapter Nine

 

Emily has finally switched off her flashlight. Still, I
dare not move until I’m sure she’s sound asleep. My stomach growls, and I can easily imagine that it’s admonishing me for what I’m about to do, rather than complaining because I had only picked at the leftover barbeque Aunt Bethany had served for dinner. She’d wanted to know all about my afternoon. Did I like Rory and her friends? Do I think I’ll hang out with them again? What did I think of Willow Falls? Stuff like that. I told her everyone had been very nice, that they’d invited me for pancakes already, and how Rory’s dad had been friends with my parents but hadn’t known they’d gotten married.

Aunt Bethany stopped chewing her baked beans. “Well, your mother pulled away a bit from her other friends once she started going out with Jimmy.”

This was news to me. It doesn’t really make sense since Mom always talks about how important her friends were to her.

“You girls would never do anything like that, right?” Aunt Bethany asked, pointing her fork at both of us in turn. “Boyfriends come and go, but your girlfriends will be with you forever.”

Only in my mom’s case, her boyfriend never left.

Emily rolled her eyes and said that she wasn’t planning on dating until she won the math prize, or left for college, whichever came first. Uncle Roger said, “Amen to that.” I didn’t say anything since I don’t have any friends to drop in the first place.

Only maybe that’s not true anymore, because if I didn’t have friends, would I be staring at Emily’s bed right now, waiting for her to sleep so I can proceed with my plan? Would I risk getting caught stealing again? I press my hands over my eyes. Being almost thirteen is very confusing.

Emily’s breathing has become even. The time has come. The clouds block most of the moonlight, so the obstacle course that is Emily’s room is more challenging tonight. I grab my phone off the night table, glad to actually have a use for it. I hold it out in front of me, allowing the glow to guide me safely around stacks of books and piles of clothes.

The light in Uncle Roger’s lab is off, and I don’t have to worry about Ray barging in on me again since he’s out with his “mates.” I tiptoe past Emily’s parents’ bedroom and stop in front of the door marked
KEEP OUT
. Heart pounding, I don’t allow myself to hesitate more than a few seconds before slipping inside. I shut the door as quietly as possible and hold my breath until I’m sure no one is coming.

The room is nearly pitch black, which I quickly chalk up to the fact that there are no windows. I hadn’t noticed that last time. I guess the light and heat from the sun would fade the collectibles. That must be why it’s so cold in here, too. Wouldn’t want the foreign chocolate to melt!

The pale light from my phone casts strange shadows, making the room appear longer, the shelves taller, than they were when
Emily brought me here. The faces of the action figures and bobbleheads that fill the shelves seem suddenly menacing. I hurry past them, averting my gaze from their accusing eyes.

The comic section consists of three huge plastic bins, each divided by hanging folders. I balance the phone on the edge of an upper shelf so I can use both hands to flip through the comics. The first bin is full of the usual superhero suspects like
The Avengers, Green Lantern, The Fantastic Four, The Flash, Superman, Justice League of America, Spider-Man, The Incredible Hulk,
and
Batman.
The next contains ones I’ve never heard of, like
Tales to Astonish
and
Journey Into Mystery.
I’m surprised to see comics like
Archie
and
Richie Rich
in the last bin, along with a few relatively recent ones like
Hellboy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, The Sandman,
and some manga from Japan. My father would be impressed for sure. The largest folder is nearly bursting with monthly editions of
The Uncanny X-Men
from the 1970s. I stop at a section of
Mickey Mouse
titles from the 1940s and pull a few out. Uncle Roger owns at least two of each copy. Like the others, each one is tucked inside a plastic slipcover. I don’t really think of Mickey Mouse when I think of comics, though. I drop them back into the folder.

I’m about to step over to the next bin when the sound of a door opening and closing freezes me in place. My mind races to come up with excuses. The best I can think of is “I couldn’t sleep and was looking for reading material.” It’s pretty lame, but it’s better than the truth. I brace myself for the inevitable and turn to face the door.

No one is there. I’m still alone! It wasn’t this door! That means either Emily woke up to use the bathroom or Uncle
Roger had a late-night flash of inspiration and is in his lab. I strain my ears, but can’t hear anything that would confirm who is in another room and why. Either way, though, someone is up, and that means I’m in danger of getting caught. I reach blindly into the last bin, grab a comic, and slip it under the elastic waistband of my sweatpants. I’m halfway across the room before I remember my phone. I dash back, reach out for it, and knock it right off the shelf. Luckily, my superfast reflexes that got me in so much trouble with the pepper spray actually work in my favor tonight, and I manage to catch it right before it hits the floor.

As I step into the hall, I hear the unmistakable flush of a toilet. Emily! Had she noticed my empty bed? If so, she must have expected to find me in the bathroom. I just have to hope she didn’t look over at my bed before she went out.

I race toward the bedroom, grateful to the plush carpet for masking the sound of my feet. I duck into the room and dive under my blanket just as the light in the bathroom turns off. I turn my head, close my eyes, and pretend to sleep.

Emily’s bed creaks as she climbs back into it. I hold my breath. Is she going to ask where I’ve been? But all I hear is the rustling of pages and the click of the flashlight. There she goes, under the covers again. Honestly, I don’t know how she functions on so little sleep. If I weren’t on the verge of a heart attack from all this stress, I’d be impressed with her dedication. I can’t think of a single instance in my life when I’ve tried that hard at anything, which is a depressing thought.

Ever so quietly, I slip the comic out from under my pajamas. I don’t know much about collectibles, but I do know that they’re
worth more if they’re not creased by someone sleeping on them! I slide the comic off to the side of the bed and move as far away as possible. Once my heart rate returns to normal, exhaustion overtakes me. At first I try to fight it, wanting desperately to stay awake until I can get the comic someplace safe.

A loud snore from Emily wakes me up a few hours later. The light from the moon is still pretty bright, so I can see clearly. She’s sleeping on her side, with her back to me. Moving quickly, I lean over the far edge of my bed and feel underneath for my suitcase. I slide it out about a foot and get to work on the zipper. It sounds SO LOUD, but Emily keeps right on snoring. I flip open the top and see Jake’s smiling face. At first it makes me feel better to have something so familiar to look at. But then I catch a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes and have to turn away.

Still hanging over the edge, I reach behind me for the comic book. Fortunately I’d managed not to destroy it in my sleep. I lift up the poster and the bag of broken glass, and carefully rest the comic on the bottom of my suitcase. I cover it back up, and push the suitcase back under the bed, where, hopefully, the stuffed lizard will guard over it.

The next time I wake up, the light is streaming through the blinds, and the clock says 8:03. I rub my eyes. Another school day has arrived and I have no school to go to. I glance over at Emily’s bed. It’s empty. I’m surprised I didn’t hear her get up.

“Hey there,” Emily’s voice says, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I flip over to find her kneeling by the side of my bed, fully dressed in her school uniform, with my suitcase out in front of her. All I can do is stare as she pulls on the zipper.

“Sorry if I woke you,” she says. “I can’t find one of my schoolbooks, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t mixed up with yours. Is it okay if I check in here?”

My brain simply cannot process what’s happening. I want to say,
Wait, stop, don’t,
but all that comes out is a crazed gurgle. She must have interpreted that as a yes, because she flips open the top. When I see that, I fly off the bed and am at her side in a flash.

“Hey, you like Jake Harrison?” she asks, apparently not noticing my Olympics-worthy leap.

We both stare down at my poster, me trying not to faint from fear, her grinning. “I like him, too,” she says. “Why don’t you put it on the wall?”

She reaches down for the poster, but I’m too fast. I quickly shut the lid, just barely missing her fingertips. “I’ll do it while you’re at school. Your book’s not there, sorry.”

She sighs. “That’s okay. It just means I’ll be Emily B today. When you forget your books, you lose points.”

“You’ll always just be Emily to me,” I joke, hoping to distract her as I push the suitcase under the bed with my toe. Had she really gone in there to look for her book or did she suspect something? Her expression seems sincere, but I don’t know her well enough to know how good a liar she might be.

She glances over at the clock, then begins rushing around the room shoving various objects into her book bag. My legs are too wobbly to stand much longer, so I sit on the edge of the bed and watch.

Aunt Bethany walks in, fully dressed and made up already. “Hi, girls. Tara, did you sleep okay?”

“Yes, great,” I reply, perhaps a little too quickly. “I mean, the bed’s really comfortable.” I inwardly groan. What a stupid thing to say.

“Good. I know it’s hard to adjust to a new place. Emily, Dad’s downstairs waiting to take you. I’m just going to talk to Tara for a few minutes.”

Emily dashes out of the room calling out her good-byes. I place my hands on my lap, telling myself not to worry; Aunt Bethany doesn’t know anything about the comic. How could she? Unless … could there have been security cameras in that room? What if they’d watched the whole thing from their bedside table?

“This came for you this morning,” Aunt Bethany says, handing me a folded piece of paper. “It’s an e-mail from one of your teachers.”

I never thought I’d feel so relieved to see a homework assignment. “Thanks.” I don’t open the paper yet because I can see she has more for me.

“I wanted to give you this, so you can come and go as you please.” She places a silver key in my hand. It’s attached to one of those stretchy bands so I can wear it on my wrist. I push it on there now, right next to the red rope bracelet. I see Aunt Bethany looking at the friendship bracelet with that same puzzled look as when she first saw it. Then she shrugs and gets up. “Well, you have our phone numbers if you need to reach us. You have the run of the house, and if you go out, just leave a note. Do you want me to drive you to the diner to meet Rory and her friends later?”

I shake my head. “I figured I’d ride Emily’s bike, if that’s okay.”

“You know the way already?”

I nod. “With all the new towns I’ve lived in, I’ve had a lot of practice learning my way around new places.”

Aunt Bethany’s face softens. “Moving all the time must be hard. Molly never used to have this need to always be on the go. I don’t know where it came from. Is it your dad?”

I shake my head. “It’s always Mom’s decision. Out of nowhere, she’ll decide we have to pack up and move. But I’m pretty sure we’re going to stay where we are for a while now.”

“Good!” she says, leaning over to pat my arm. “I hope you’re right.” She leaves me in the room, shaking her head as she goes, mumbling about how it’s a shame not to give a child roots. I sit there until I hear her car pull out of the driveway. Then I spring into action. I wash up, get dressed, and grab the little backpack Dad gave me. I take a minute to look at the comic before sliding it inside the backpack.
The Fantastic Four.
I know a little about that one. I think the lady can turn invisible and the one guy is, like, made out of rocks or something. And one guy stretches? I’m tempted to read it, but I don’t want to risk smudging the pages or anything. The cover states that this is issue #12, and that it was printed in 1961. That sure sounds old enough to be worth $200.

I head down to the laundry room, where everyone leaves their shoes. As soon as I step into the kitchen, I’m greeted by Ray, in green plaid pajamas, holding up a plate of what looks like ground-up …
something.
“Ready for brekkie?” he asks.

I’d totally forgotten about him! I shake my head. “Not hungry.”

“Go on,” he says, thrusting it out toward me. “Give it a burl. I bet you’ll like it.”

I shake my head again.

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

I hurry into the laundry room and he follows me, stirring his concoction. “Where are you off to so early?”

I slip into my sneakers and open the door. “Just riding my bike into town. I want to get there when the stores open.”

He laughs. “You don’t have to rush. Throngs of shoppers won’t be descending on Willow Falls any time soon.”

I wish I’d just told him I was going out for exercise. Now he’s going to expect me to come back with something. “You’re probably right. See you later.” I close the door behind me.

He opens it and calls out, “Stuff downtown can be exy. Before you buy anything, tell ’em Ray sent ya. Ask for the mate’s rate.”

“Sure thing,” I reply, “whatever that means.” I fling open the shed doors. Nope, the bike didn’t get any bigger. I have to pump the tires again and shake a beetle out of the helmet, but soon enough I’m heading into town. It feels strange being the only kid between six and eighteen years old out on a school day. I wonder if people think I’m cutting school. Or maybe they think I stole a little girl’s bike and am making my (slow) getaway!

I don’t stop peddling until I reach the corner of Main Street and the alley. Ray was right. I certainly won’t have to compete with many other shoppers. I spot some seniors going into the
community center, and two moms pushing strollers into the library. Other than that, though, downtown is pretty empty.