Stork (27 page)

I climbed up the rickety, fold-down steps to the musty third-floor attic. Cobwebby, low-lit, unfinished attics rank only slightly higher than basements on my anywhere-but-here list. I found the wardrobe easily enough and rifled through at least two dozen hanging garments. My
amma
had several dresses that, with a few modifications, had potential. I was surprised at the quality of the material, as well as the construction. I’m not sure I ever really appreciated vintage design. My tastes had always tended more to what was in style right now. I came across a red sleeveless gown with an empire waist and beaded bodice. It seemed a perfect match to the fabrics Hulda had selected. I’d completely cut away the skirt, which was frayed, but salvaging the upper half of the dress would save hours of labor. I remembered that Penny intended to rework one of Grim’s old dresses. Shame on me for pitying her this necessity. Once again, I’d underestimated my new friend’s ingenuity. I held the dress against my front, looking in a full-length mirror propped up against the wall. With a fitted silk underlayer and full tulle skirt, it would be quite elegant, and simple. Simple for me, anyway. And the red was perfect. I remembered my
amma
wearing a lot of red. I wondered what bird she had represented at council. A red bird? A red finch? A scarlet macaw? A cardinal? Something about the last one felt right to me. There had always been an unusual number of cardinals at her bird feeder.

I checked my watch. Five o’clock. I had a lot of sewing ahead of me. I scooped the dress up and headed toward the steps when an old trunk caught my eye. Hadn’t Hulda told me to look in Amma’s old steamer trunk? I knelt down over the large flat-top case, running my hand along its faded dark leather. The brass latches and dime-size tacks were tarnished, but I could tell that this was once a beautiful piece of luggage. It looked exactly like the type of chest people used to take on long voyages. I fiddled with the catch and opened its creaky hinged lid. The first few layers I sorted through were linens, gloves, velvet jewelry boxes and pouches, a medium-size hat box: all the sorts of things I’d expected. Then, at the bottom of the trunk, I found a cloth-covered book tied with grosgrain ribbon. At first I thought it was a calendar or almanac, as it was divided into the twelve months of the year. The more I looked at it, though, the more I came to see it as a keeper of important dates — dates that repeated year after year. Each month began with an old-fashioned illustration of a girl in clothing suitable to that time of year and surrounded by the flora and fauna of the season. The pages following each month were numbered at the top and then lined below. Thirty-one pages for January, twenty-nine for February, thirty-one for March, and so on. On each page, and in varying colors of ink, notations had been made. People’s birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays — including many I’d never heard of — were all recorded on their respective dates. My sister Storks were all there. And as much as I intended to surprise Hulda on February twentieth with some small token, and giggled to read that glum old Grim was a summer girl, their birthdays were only a small part of what was making me cluck with happiness. The fact that my
amma
used their bird names — the Owl in February and the Peacock in July — filled me with smug satisfaction.

I continued to thumb through the pages, a little creeped out to find that the dates of deaths were marked as well. Other notations were in such a cramped hand and so lengthy that I hardly knew what to make of them. Paging through the book, I thought I recognized a few mentions of signs of the zodiac, and planet names. Another thing stood out: the calendar dates corresponding with the solstices and equinoxes had far more entries than any other. I remembered the fuss Hulda had made over the autumnal equinox — just two days ago — and her small chant to Sifa, Protector of the Harvest. March twentieth and twenty-first, the two possible dates for the spring, or vernal, equinox, had references to Ostara’s Dawning and what looked like a poem or song. June twentieth and twenty-first, the summer solstices, were also crammed with long passages, something about the Tropic of Cancer, and first covenants, and deaths — an unusual number of deaths. As I read through the list of names for that day, one jumped out at me: Hanna Ivarsson, Wade’s little sister. The inclusion of her name in Amma’s private book punched the wind from my lungs. I recalled the conversation with Jaelle about Dorit acting so odd on the first day of summer.

I descended the creaky attic stairs with Amma’s book hidden in the folds of the red dress. I was a ball of nerves — curious and confused by the book and its mysterious entries — but also so thrilled by the revelation that my
amma
was a Stork that I chirped. I did. It felt surprisingly familiar.

The atmosphere at school on Friday was electric. Nobody could talk about anything but the big game that night and the dance the next. Even the teachers were wearing school colors: green and gold. Everyone was certain that this was our year to beat Pinewood. After a long meeting with Coach Carter, Principal Henrich, and Mr. and Mrs. Snjosson, Jack was allowed back into the lineup for Saturday’s game, though, as a compromise, he was benched for the first half.

Jack and I were on our way to the cafeteria when we ran into Wade.

“Jack,” Wade said, blocking our path, “we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. Coach Carter had you tied up for most of practice.”

“What do you want, Wade?” Jack asked.

“To make nice.” Wade flashed us a smile. I really hated his smile. He showed teeth, but somehow the other components — twinkling eyes, soft facial lines, relaxed posture — were missing. “First, I’d like to apologize for my recent behavior. I’ve been a class-A jerk and almost lost Monique in the process. I don’t deserve it, but she’s forgiven me. Can you?” Wade held out his hand. “Will you shake and accept my apology?”

I could see the muscles in Jack’s jaw and neck tighten, and for many moments he left Wade’s outstretched arm just hanging there.

“I’m really trying here,” Wade said, turning up his palm.

Finally, Jack exhaled and shook Wade’s hand in one brief pump, though I noticed he didn’t say
Apology accepted
.

“Good man,” Wade said. “I also wanted to personally invite you both to an after-dance party at my family’s barn. My parents are going all out, chicken and ribs.”

We didn’t even have a chance to respond before Wade jogged off, calling over his shoulder, “It’s all settled, then. See you guys later.”

Jack and I exchanged looks. I interpreted his as a lingering mistrust of Wade. Mine was that, with an extra roll of the eyes conveying that “all out” was not chicken and ribs.

It was positively raucous in Mr. Parks’s room during lunch. Happiest of all was Pedro. The pressure of an entire game as quarterback now lifted, he was a new man.

“Have you guys heard about Wade’s party?” Pedro asked.

“We’ve heard. Is that where you guys are going?” I asked.

“It does sound like fun,” Penny replied.

“Everyone’s talking about it,” Tina said.

“The whole night’s gonna be a blast,” Pedro said.

“Matthew’s dad’s lending him his car,” Tina said. “We’ll be traveling in style.”

“I’ll be looking sweet in my new threads,” Pedro cut in.

Jack pulled me away from the group. “I won’t be showing up in anything fancy. That truck is as good as it gets.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“I have a suit, but it’s an old one of my dad’s.”

“They’re just clothes.” This out of the mouth of a girl whose tenth-grade yearbook quote was “I accessorize, therefore I am.”

“What would your friends in LA think?”

“What does it matter?” It didn’t matter. Not one bit. I couldn’t believe how distant malls and beaches seemed.

“You won’t be embarrassed?”

“I won’t if you won’t.” I motioned with my arms to an imaginary skirt. “Did you know vampire drool is an actual shade of red? And Fredrick’s of Hollywood has a whole line of
Pretty Woman
formal wear?”

His eyes grew to the size of Frisbees. “Uh. I think my parents will want to see a picture of us.”

“You are so gullible.” I elbowed him in the ribs, hard. “Just don’t wear flannel, and I’ll do my best to keep it simple.”

I thought about Wade’s party as I walked to my next class. If money was an issue for Jack, this, in place of dinner at a restaurant, was at least free. And in a crowd of a couple hundred kids, Wade would be easy to avoid.

Fifth period was canceled for an outdoor pep rally. Jack and I walked toward the stadium together. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before veering toward the field to stand with the football team while I herded up the bleachers with the rest of the student body. The cheerleaders kicked things off with a pom-pom routine, then they held up a huge paper banner for the team to crash through. The principal spoke, as did Coach Carter. Pinewood was maligned in word and thought, and I wondered if they, too, were riling up an angry mob. Thank goodness the announcement of Homecoming King and Queen came next. I’d never been a big supporter of such popularity contests. They seemed to reward the most vapid of individuals. Five girls, Monique among them, were called forth as this year’s court, as were five guys. I couldn’t help feeling thrilled as Jack took his place as one of them. Maybe things were different here. Though barrel-chested Wade, grinning like a hyena, was a thorn. The king was announced first. Jack was clearly surprised and embarrassed. He looked up to me in the crowd as he received his scepter, raising it in something like a salute. I smiled and blushed and was flattered, mostly by the knowledge that his eyes had followed me to my seat. Wade, to my surprise, smiled, clapped Jack on the back, and was the first to shake his hand. Next the queen was announced. Monique cried like she’d just been crowned Miss America. A week ago I might have audibly scoffed. The new me, the forgiving me, applauded politely. I reminded myself that I wasn’t the only one who had had a tough week — a pregnancy scare and a roller-coaster relationship would be tough on anyone.

After the assembly, Jack found me at my locker.

“Your Highness.” I bowed.

“Don’t.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s weird enough.”

I flicked the brim of his cap. “Guess you’ll be trading this in for a crown now.”

“No, but I will be exercising my authority.”

“How so?”

He pulled me into him. “I want you to stay close to me.” It was an order, something I would normally defy on principle, though I somehow liked this one’s nose-to-nose delivery. Had me at attention, anyway.

“Is that a command?”

“Yes.”

“Impressive,” I said. “On the job for less than an hour and already taking charge.”

“My duty to serve and protect.” His voice was a low growl in my ear.

“I’m kind of impressed with your subjects,” I said, pulling away and closing my locker with a loud bang. “I figured new-and-improved Wade or at least one of his henchmen would have been elected. It shows a certain amount of independent thinking on the part of Norse Falls.”

He pulled my hand playfully. “What are you trying to say? That you’re surprised a guy like me can win?”

“No.” I laughed. “It’s just that you don’t necessarily align yourself with the in crowd.”

He pulled me alongside his body, his hand sliding around my waist. “I align myself with you.”

Which really only proved my point, but I decided not to argue. Instead I simply enjoyed the weight of his arm on my hip bone.

It was fun taking my dad to the football game. He refused to dress in school colors, but it didn’t matter. I wore enough green and gold for the two of us. We sat with Penny and Tina. I could tell by the way they kept sneaking glances that they were a little in awe of him. He did that to people. Soon enough, though, he had them giggling and blushing. He did
that
to people, too — females, anyway.

Jack did his penance and sat out the first half. I could hear the tightness in the crowd’s cheering and their collective gasps every time Pedro put up a pass. The first quarter was weak; even I let the occasional sigh of disappointment escape.