The First Last Day (15 page)

Yes! I grabbed it from the shelf and poked the shell. It was still crispy. I pulled out a dish and a knife, to cut the cannoli in three pieces. “This is the last one,” I said, setting the plate before Mom and Dad. “Let's share it.”

As I lifted the cannoli to my mouth, Mom stopped me. “Wait,” she said. “Before we eat, let's remember G-Mags by sharing our favorite story about her.”

I put the cannoli down to think of something. Before I could, Dad piped up, “I've got one.”

Mom and I turned and listened.

“One evening when I came to pick you up, G-Mags had me sit at the table, and she put two of her delicious
meatballs and some sauce in a dish for me.”

I smiled, remembering how she loved to feed everyone. “That's a great memory.”

“That's not all of it,” Dad said. “Along with the food, she told me this wonderful story about Kevin's father when he was your age. Apparently, he tried to surprise G-Mags and her husband by raking the leaves in the backyard and then burning them.”

“Burning them? Isn't that illegal?” I asked.

“Back then,” Dad continued, “people didn't realize it was bad for the environment. And Mr. Damico also didn't realize what he was doing was dangerous. The flames spread to the neighbor's fence, and before he could put the fire out by throwing dirt on it, a portion of the fence was ruined.”

It was hard to imagine Mr. Damico, with all his trivia and facts, being so careless. “So, then what happened?”

“When G-Mags found out, she made Mr. Damico go over and confess to the neighbors what he'd done.”

“He must have been so scared.”

“Yes. He begged G-Mags to tell them instead, but she told him he had to do it himself. However, she
made a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs for him to bring over when he apologized.” Dad smiled and got a twinkle in his eye. “What Mr. Damico didn't know at the time was that before he went over there, G-Mags had called the neighbors to tell them what happened. She wanted to make sure they understood she was trying to teach Mr. Damico a lesson and that she would handle his punishment. And also pay for a new fence.”

“I can picture her doing that,” I said.

Dad nodded. “She was as wise as she was kind.”

I looked up at Mom. “How about you? Do you have a memory of G-Mags?”

Mom got up from her chair. “I have more than one, but this is my favorite. I'll be back in a minute to show you.”

I gave Dad a puzzled look, but he offered no clue as to what Mom planned to show us.

When she returned, she was holding a tiny box with a green ribbon wrapped around it.

“What's in there?” I asked.

“You have to wait,” Mom said. “It's part of the story.” She sat next to me. “You know how I haven't been feeling well this summer?”

I nodded, hoping she wasn't really sick and that I wasn't wrong about the baby. I held my breath, waiting for her to continue.

“Well, one afternoon while you and Kevin were watching a movie, G-Mags gave me a cup of hot tea with grated ginger. She said it would make my stomach feel better.”

“Is that what's in the box? Ginger?”

Mom shook her head. “No. It's something even better.”

“C'mon,” I said. “Hurry. Open the box.” I gripped the seat of my chair and waited as she removed the lid. The tissue paper crinkled as Mom unfolded it. She looked up at me and said, “We'd been waiting to make sure everything is okay before we told anyone, but . . .” Then she pulled out the tiniest, cutest pair of sea green baby booties I'd ever seen and handed them to me.

“I knew it!” I said, feeling their softness against my palms.

“Knew what?” Mom said.

“I looked up your symptoms on the Internet and I thought you might be having a baby.”

Mom and Dad broke into huge smiles. Dad said, “I told you she'd figure it out.”

Relief and pride mingled inside me, and then I realized something. “Wait! Did you tell G-Mags that you were having a baby?”

“No,” Mom said. “She figured it out not long after she met me, and she crocheted these booties for the baby. That's the type of woman she was. Just like your dad said: wise and kind.”

I put the soft booties back inside the box and blinked a few times. So, that explained why G-Mags hadn't looked surprised when I told her Mom was pregnant. She'd known all along.

Mom folded the tissue paper over the booties and looked up at me. “It's your turn.”

I took a deep breath and sifted through all the memories of G-Mags I'd stored in my brain. “There were so many fun times I had with her. But one thing I'll always remember is how interested she was in what everyone else had to say or do. I loved how excited she'd get when I'd show her my fossils. And how just yesterday she explained that they were nature's art. She made me look at my own artwork in a new way. Like what I
was doing was important.” My voice cracked. “And just like the impression of the fish on my fossil, G-Mags made an impression on my heart that will stay there forever.”

Mom gave me a hug, and we all raised our share of the cannoli in a toast to G-Mags.

As the shell crunched in my mouth, I savored the taste. Knowing I would never have another one exactly like that, it was sweeter than ever.

After finishing the last of it, I bowed my head and whispered, “May she rest in peace.”

T
wo months later, I sat in the car with Kevin's birthday presents on my lap, tapping my foot to the music on Mom's favorite oldies radio station. I wasn't really listening to the words. I was too nervous about meeting Kevin's friends at his party.

He and I had seen each other lots of times since summer ended. The first time was the funeral. But I still hadn't met all his friends.

“You're awfully quiet,” Mom said. “I thought you'd be happy to finally give Kevin this painting you've been working on for so long.”

I smoothed my hand across the wrapping paper, which read
Happy Birthday
written in sand. “I hope he likes it.”

“Of course he will.”

As we pulled into the Damicos' driveway, I was nervous and excited at the same time.

I stepped out of the car and made sure I hadn't messed up the green ribbon on one of the gifts. I checked out my jeans and jacket to make sure everything was in place. Abbey had been right. The black velvet blazer was perfect with dark denim. It was a good thing I'd let her talk me into buying it at the mall. I'm still not into fashion as much as she is, but I know now there's an art to the things she's into. I can appreciate that.

And, once she explained that she'd stopped texting and e-mailing because she wasn't allowed to have her phone at summer camp—not because she didn't like me anymore—we were totally best friends again.

“Don't worry,” Mom said. “You'll have a wonderful time with Kevin's friends.”

I smiled up at her. How did she always know what I was thinking? Maybe there was such a thing as magic when it came to moms.

As we climbed the steps to the front door, a chill wind blew my hair across my face. I tucked the long strand behind my ear while Mom rang the bell.

I swallowed hard as the door opened. “Hey, everyone,” Kevin said. “It's Haleigh.”

A chorus of “Hey,” sounded before everyone went back to what they were doing.

I held out the gifts. “Happy birthday.”

Kevin looked at the wrapping paper and smiled.

“Open them later,” I said. “After everyone leaves.”

“Sure.” He looked up at Mom and then at her protruding belly. “I heard it's a boy,” he said.

Mom nodded. “Yes. And I hear that Michael is planning to give Haleigh some tips about having a little brother.”

A voice came from around a corner. “Did someone mention my name?”

I'd met Michael at the funeral, but as soon as I looked into his face, it struck me even more how much he looked like a taller version of Kevin.

Michael put his hands on Kevin's shoulders. “If your brother's anything like this guy, Rule Number One: start watching
Star Wars
videos ASAP.” We all
laughed, and Mom left to join the adults in the kitchen.

I had a strong urge to ask Michael about his painting. When did he realize the portrait looked just like Kevin? Did he know the paints were magic?

I waited until we were alone together and asked him if he remembered the yellow box that G-Mags found in her closet.

He got a faraway look in his eyes. “I sure do,” he said. “I was so bored that summer—all I wanted was someone to play with. Then G-Mags found those paints, and I did the portrait that ended up looking like Kevin.” He scratched his head. “Of course, I didn't realize until almost four years later that it resembled him. It was the weirdest thing. I wondered whatever happened to those paints. Did G-Mags still have them?”

I nodded. “Yes, she gave them to me.”

“That's great. What did you do with them?”

“Um, I painted a picture of my last day of summer.”

“So, how did it turn out?”

I debated whether I should pour out my story. But all I said was, “Great.”

Was that a twinkle in his eye that I spotted? I wasn't
sure. But as I smiled back at him, I felt a connection between us.

I never told Kevin about the paints either. Or what happened on our very last day together. He remembered only the first August twenty-sixth. And when I thought about telling him the truth, it sounded so crazy, I didn't believe it myself.

Even though Dad said a few scientists think time travel could be possible one day, if someone offered me a ride in a time machine back to August, I'd say, “No.”

I didn't need to go back in time to save summer. I'd have it forever—in my painting.

The party went by quickly and I had a great time with Kevin's friends. Once they all left, Kevin pulled out the two gifts I'd brought. I held my breath. Would he like them? Or would the memories they brought make him sad?

He jiggled the first package and turned it over a couple of times. “Is it a book?”

I shook my head and smiled. “Just open it.”

He ripped the paper off and held up the canvas. At first he was quiet. Then his eyes began to water.

A wave of regret came over me as I watched Kevin wipe his eyes with his fist. “It's amazing,” he said. “It looks just like her.”

“I hope so.” I'd tried to capture everything about G-Mags: her kind face, her sparkling eyes, her love for family and friends. “I painted her in the kitchen—because that's how I'll always remember her.”

“Me too.” Kevin pointed to her hand, poised just above a pot. “What's that she's holding?”

“It's rosemary. For remembrance.”

Kevin smiled and put the painting down.

“I hoped it wouldn't make you sad.”

“It's okay,” he said. “It's kind of a good sad. You know what I mean?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, G-Mags is gone. But now I have this picture that reminds me of her and of how great the summer was and how you and I met and how we're all friends, and you're going to have a little brother.”

I wiped my eyes and gestured for Kevin to open the smaller package.

He ripped the paper off to reveal the DVDs from Mr. Sidhu's store.

“Whoa! This is too much. You shouldn't have . . .”

“It's okay. A few weeks ago, we went down the shore and I sold a painting.” I didn't tell Kevin who I sold it to. He'd never believe the eavesdropping man in the restaurant bought one of my abstract paintings.

“I always said you were a great artist.” He examined the DVDs. “Now we can watch
The Day the Earth Stood Still
from the beginning.” His eyes brightened and the corners of his mouth curled up. I knew what he was going to say before he said it: “
Klaatu barada nikto
.”

Hearing the words sent me back to G-Mags's kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Kevin said. “You looked like you were somewhere else for a second.”

“I was just thinking about summer: the cottage, the cannolis . . .” I raised my eyebrows. “The cow suit. For a second I thought I could even smell rosemary.”

“You did!” Kevin exclaimed. “My mom made ragout. She remembered how much you liked it.”

I grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get a
mooove
on.”

Like Haleigh's last day of summer, this novel had more do-overs than I can count. Fortunately, the following amazing people were there for me during the process.

My agent, Steven Chudney: You hung in there for all the revisions and never stopped believing. I can't thank you enough for your loyalty, persistence, and humor, and for finding the perfect home for this novel.

My editor, Fiona Simpson: You understood my vision perfectly and made this book the best it could be. I thank you for steering it through its various stages with so much care, for editing with such an astute eye, and, most of all, for teaching me to trust the reader.

Laura Lyn DiSiena and Pascal Campion: Together, the two of you created a cover more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I am amazed and grateful for your time and talents.

Everyone at Aladdin: Thank you for all that you do behind the scenes, for welcoming me onto your team, and for working so hard to come up with a great new title.

Linda Adler and Debra Frank: Many thanks for
your encouragement on an earlier version of this novel and for your years of friendship. I wish we could go back and have a do-over of just one day in junior high, knowing what we know now.

Flora Doone, Debbie Reed Fischer, Alexandra Flinn, and Laurie Tadonnio: You cheered me on during various versions of this novel. Each of you, in your own unique way, contributed something invaluable, and I thank you for that.