11 Birthdays (14 page)

“Go on, kid. I’ve heard ’em all. You want me to hypnotize your mom to give you a later curfew? Bigger allowance?”

Leo looks thoughtful, and I have to jab him again. “Okay, okay. No, it’s not anything like that. The thing is … my friend Amanda here, we’re like, living this day, today, our birthday, over and over.”

“Uh-huh,” the guy says, smiling at us in that way adults do when they want to humor you into thinking they believe you. Leo doesn’t seem to notice.

“And we’re wondering,” he continues, “if maybe you had something to do with it? Like if you could have hypnotized me into thinking every day was my birthday?”

The guy laughs. “I’m not nearly that good.”

Leo’s shoulders sag. “Oh.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Maybe you did it without realizing it?”

He shakes his head. “Believe me, if I could do something
like that, I’d hypnotize myself! Imagine the things you could do if you got a ‘do-over’ every day!”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” Leo mutters.

“In all seriousness, kid. Is school stressing you out too much? Family troubles?”

“Come on, Leo.” I tug at his sleeve. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks anyway,” Leo says.

The man waves good-bye. “See you tonight!”

“I knew it was a long shot,” Leo says as we exit. “What now?”

A green Jaguar parked in front catches my eye. I suddenly remember what Mrs. Grayson said when she drove me to the doctor. I tell Leo how my great-great-grandfather was supposedly well-known for some feud in town, like a hundred years ago.

“Really? That’s weird. Do you think it had anything to do with what that security guard said at the mall? I’ve been thinking about that. Why would our last names have meant anything to him? I think we should find that out.”

I nod in agreement. “But how? I’m pretty sure my parents don’t know anything. They would’ve mentioned it by now.”

“Well, I know some people who might be old enough to remember,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Five minutes later we’re walking into the Senior
Citizen Community Center. I point to a poster advertising the poetry reading. “Maybe they’ll let you read your poem again.”

“No thanks. I’ll read a poem in public again when you play the drums in public.”

I think about how good it felt to play the other day. “You never know. I just might surprise you.”

“How about those guys?” he asks, pointing to four white-haired men at a card table.

We walk over. For old guys they move pretty quick — tossing cards and plastic coins so fast I can’t keep up with whose turn it is. Leo clears his throat. No one looks up. In a loud voice he asks, “Any of you guys a hundred?”

At that, the men all look up and start guffawing. I groan. Leo’s not big on tact. “Please ignore that question,” I say, rolling my eyes at Leo. “We were just hoping to ask you about some town history.”

One of the guys stops laughing long enough to light his pipe. I glance at the big
NO SMOKING
sign overhead, but figure he probably doesn’t have much time left anyway. Taking a puff, he gestures across the room to a man reading a newspaper on the couch. “Ask ol’ Bucky Whitehead. He grew up here, and he’s older than dirt.”

The others laugh. That wasn’t a very nice thing to say. These men could use some lessons on tact, too. I recognize Mr. Whitehead from the poetry reading. He had been listening very intently to Leo’s poem. When we reach him, I do all the talking.

“We’re sorry to bother you, sir, but maybe you can tell us about something that happened in Willow Falls a long time ago?”

He rests his paper on his lap and looks up with kind, milky blue eyes. “Not much happens in Willow Falls,” he says with a chuckle.

“That’s true,” I agree, “but this would have been a really
long time ago. Maybe you remember hearing the names Ellerby and Fitzpatrick?”

His expression doesn’t change for a minute, and I’m about to thank him for his time when he lets out a low whistle. “Haven’t heard those names in the same breath for must be going on eighty years now.”

Leo and I share an excited look. We both practically throw ourselves onto the couch and lean forward. “What do you remember about them?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Those folks sure did some crazy things. This was legendary stuff when I was a boy. They’d already patched things up by then, of course.”

“Like what kinds of crazy things?” Leo asks.

“Oh, let’s see.” His eyes close for a few seconds, and I worry he might have fallen asleep. But then he opens them and smiles. “They were neighbors, you know.”

We shake our heads.

“Oh, yes. Lived up in Apple Grove. Their farms
were
Apple Grove, really. Supplied all the town with ripe juicy apples. But they were always in competition with each other. One year Ellerby flooded Fitzpatrick’s fields, ruining the harvest for everyone. The next year Fitzpatrick
dammed up the river because it ran through his property. Then Ellerby cut down branches of his own apple trees so no apples would fall on Fitzpatrick’s property, things like that. No, they didn’t like each other one bit, those two men. And their feud disrupted the workings of the town. People taking sides. Drove everyone crazy.”

Leo and I turn to each other, wide-eyed. Could these really be our relatives? “You said they made up at some point, though?” Leo asks.

Mr. Whitehead nods. “Strangest thing. No one knows why. One day they were boarding up any window that looked on each other’s house, then the next they were the best of friends. Sure, they had a squabble here and there, but nothing lasting more than a few days.”

“But what changed things?” I ask, amazed at this story of our long lost relatives.

He shakes his head. “No one knows. Like I said, one day they just patched everything up. Never bothered anyone in town again. I don’t think even their own families ever knew what happened. Their secret died with ‘em, I expect.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us, Mr. Whitehead?” Leo asks.

“Call me Bucky,” he insists. “Mr. Whitehead was my dad’s name. So why do you kids want to know about ancient history anyway?”

“We’re kind of related to these people,” I say hesitantly.

“And you didn’t know any of this stuff?”

We shake our heads.

“Young people today,” he mutters. “Too much television.”

We take that as our cue to go. Leo stands first and reaches out to shake Bucky’s hand. “Thank you for your time, Bucky,” he says. “We really appreciate it.”

He waves us off. “My pleasure. Better than talking about the weather or what’s for lunch. That’s the usual conversation around here. Come see me anytime.”

“We will,” Leo promises. I can tell he means it, too.

When we get outside he says, “Wow.”

“I know! Wow!”

“Your great-great-grandfather flooded my great-great-grandfather’s land!”

“Oh yeah? Well, yours dammed up a river! Whatever that means!”

Soon we’re pushing each other and laughing so hard a lady from inside the town’s only fancy dress shop asks us to move on down the block.

“Do you think there’s some connection?” Leo asks when we’ve calmed down. “Like between them and what’s happening to us?”

“How could there be? The story sounds too crazy to be true. Maybe Bucky made it up.”

“Maybe,” Leo says, stepping off the curb without looking. I have to grab him by the collar to avoid him being hit by an SUV. Totally oblivious to his recent brush with death, he says, “But this feels like our only lead. We need to find out more.”

“How? If our parents knew anything they’d have told us.”

“But they named us after them. That must mean
something.”

“I think they had already named us before they met.”

“Hey, I know!” Leo yells, grabbing my arm. “How about we hold a séance and ask our great-great-grandparents what their secret was?”

I roll my eyes and uncurl his fingers from my wrist. “Let’s call that Plan B.”

“Then what’s Plan A?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m pretty sure we can’t contact the dead.”

“A week ago you’d have said you were sure one day couldn’t loop over and over again.”

Okay, he had a good point there. I glance up at the sun-shaped clock in the town center. Almost 4:30. Only a few minutes before we have to meet Leo’s mom. Leo said she was so excited to hear we’re friends again that she almost dropped the phone. It’ll be nice to see her when she isn’t furious at us. But how many times could we do this over and over again? We NEED to figure it out before I have to pretend one more time not to know a stuffed raccoon lives in the Historical Society.

“That’s
it
!” I shout. This time I’m the one grabbing Leo in a death grip. “The Willow Falls Historical Society! If there’s any place in town that might know something, it’s there.”

A honking car makes both of us jump. Leo’s mom is waving out the window with a huge grin. “That’s a good idea,” he says in a low voice as we cross the street toward the car. “Same after-school plan as today?”

As I nod in agreement, his mom jumps out of the car and pulls me into a huge hug. “Amanda! You got so tall! You’re sure you’re only eleven?”

“Maybe a little older than that,” I mutter into her shoulder.

“How’d this reunion happen?” she says, releasing me and whisking us into her backseat. “Leo didn’t give me any details on the phone.”

“It’s kind of a long story, Mom,” Leo says. “Can I tell you tomorrow?”

He winks at me as he says this and I stifle a laugh.

“Sure, keep me in suspense, why don’t you,” she complains as we head across town toward my house.

“Can I ask you something, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?”

She glances back at me in the rearview mirror. “You know Leo just felt terrible about what happened, don’t you, darling?”

“Mom!” Leo complains.

“Oops, sorry, honey. Go on, Amanda, you can ask me anything.”

“What do you know about the people Leo and I were named after?”

Without even pausing she says, “Oh, that family feud thing? Didn’t we ever tell you about that?”

“Um, NO!” Leo cries out.

“Not much to tell. Way back our two families shared some kind of apple orchard. They used to fight over whether the apples that landed on the Fitzpatricks’ property were rightfully his since they came from the Ellerbys’ tree.”

“But what happened after the feud?” Leo asks.

His mom shrugs. “They made up, I guess. In their wills they left Apple Grove to the town so the town would always have apples.”

“But isn’t that where the mall is now?” I ask as we pull up to my house. “In Apple Grove?”

She nods. “That’s progress for ya.”

“But how did they make up?” Leo asks.

“I really don’t know, honey. Maybe they just realized a few apples weren’t worth all the hassle.”

Leo crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not convinced and neither am I.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick gets out of the car to give me one last hug. “You’ll come over first thing in the morning and tell me how you two made up, right?”

“Um, sure. And thanks for driving me home.”

She wipes away a tear. Leo rolls his eyes, but I think it’s really sweet. I’ll never get tired of her being happy to see
me. I duck my head into the back and whisper, “Have fun with Hop-along Willie!”

“Have fun with the blisters!”

“See you in history class,” I reply.

“Don’t forget to study!” he calls out.

And when my party ends, after I’ve comforted Mom about losing her job and shredded my Dorothy costume into the trash can, I
do
study. But instead of history, I use Kylie’s science textbook from last year to draw a chart of the periodic table. You never know when it might come in handy.

I reach over to shut off my alarm, not even remotely
surprised anymore that it’s going off without me setting it. It takes only a few seconds to realize that I left the periodic table in my notebook, which means all the work I put into it last night is gone. Sorry, Bee Boy, I tried. My backpack is waiting for me downstairs, as I suspected it would be even though I had left it in my locker. Still, I give a little jump when I see it. There are some things about this whole day looping over and over that I admit are pretty cool.

I’ve decided that today I’m going to tell Stephanie about not going to tryouts during lunch rather than waiting till after school. This way Leo and I will have more time to go to the Historical Society. Leo’s mom is going to pick us up
from school and take us there. So at lunch before everyone begins the usual conversation about my party and Leo’s party, I pull her aside and tell her.

“Does this have to do with the marching band?” she demands, the same as she does every time. My usual answer is no, but this time I say, “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Are you going to try out?” she asks. I can tell by the way she’s holding her breath that she really wants me to say no. It wouldn’t be very good for our popularity ranking next year.

“No — I mean, at least not today.”

“But today’s the only day they’re holding auditions.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait till next year,” I say, knowing very well I’ll get another chance tomorrow. But as I say it, it occurs to me that even if I did try out and I made it, it’s not like I’ll ever get the chance to actually BE in the band if every day is today. Ugh. We’ve got to find a way to make this stop.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I tell her.

“Do you want me to come?”

I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”

I glance over at Leo’s table, but he’s not there. We had agreed to meet in the courtyard to go over the plans for
later. I hurry out, hoping he hasn’t been waiting too long. I purposefully choose not to go down Bee Boy’s hall so I don’t have to feel bad about forgetting to bring him his project. As I’m rounding the bend past the guidance office, I see Mrs. Philips in the doorway talking to Leo. He must be canceling his appointment for after school. I back quickly out of the way so they don’t see me.