13 Gifts (8 page)

Rory’s dad looks in the rearview mirror. I give a little wave. It’s all I can do considering my arms are pretty much pinned at my sides. Then I say, “It’s actually Tara Brennan, not St. Claire. My mom and Emily’s mom are sisters.”

The car jerks to a halt and we all bounce forward, then back.

“Dad?” Rory says worriedly.

He twists around in his seat to face me. “Your mother and Bethany St. Claire are sisters? Your mother’s Molly?”

“Uh-huh.”

He peers closer at my face. “And your last name is Brennan?”

I nod.

He breaks into a huge grin. “You’re Jim Brennan’s daughter!”

I nod again, a bit more hesitantly this time. Maybe he’s a fan of my dad’s books? Dad doesn’t have that many fans, but some of them can be pretty hard-core.

“Jimmy Brennan’s daughter!” Rory’s dad exclaims, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it. Jim and Molly!” He stares at me, continuing to shake his head in amazement. I find myself staring at the green stripe. I wonder if it fades away or if he’s stuck with it until it grows out.

“Um, Dad?” Rory says, tugging on his sleeve. “We’re sort of in the middle of the road here.”

“Oops, sorry,” her dad says, turning forward in his seat. He pulls back into the flow of traffic, still shaking his head in wonderment.

“How do you know Tara’s parents?” Rory asks him.

“We all grew up together,” he says, grinning. “Molly and Jim were an item before the rest of us even
thought
about dating. From eighth grade on, they were inseparable. Then after high school they moved away and never came back. We all figured they’d get married, and now here you are. Living proof!” He glances in the rearview mirror at me, and shakes his head again. “Molly and Jim’s kid. Wow. Wait till I tell your mom! And, Leo, your dad was a few years ahead of us in school, but he’ll remember them, too!”

It continues like that all the way out of town, past some cornfields, past the Willow Falls Shopping Mall, and onto a dirt road with a small white sign that reads W
ELCOME TO THE NEW
A
PPLE GROVE
. We pull over next to the sign and climb out.

“I’ll be back to pick you guys up in about half an hour,” Rory’s dad says, leaning out of the car window. He beams at me. “You’re tall, just like Jimmy. Good ol’ Jimmy Brennan! Hey, are your parents in town, too?”

I shake my head. “They’re in Madagascar for the summer.” I leave out the part about how they banished me to Willow Falls before they left.

He laughs. “Madagascar? What are they doing there?”

I feel my cheeks start to burn. “My mom is leading a research team to, um, study the mating habits of the bamboo lemur.”

He laughs again. “You’re making that up!”

I shake my head. “Nope. That’s what she does.”

He thumps the steering wheel in delight. “Good ol’ Molly! Be sure to tell them Doug Swenson says hello, okay?”

“Okay.”

He pulls away and Rory says, “I mentioned the weirdness of Dad, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I reply as we walk away from the road.

I don’t know what I’d expected of a place called Apple Grove, but I’m pretty sure apples figured into it somewhere. As far as I can tell, though, Apple Grove is just a clump of about twenty-five tiny trees in the middle of a clearing behind a shopping mall. None of the trees are higher than my waist, and most are considerably shorter. Some need sticks to hold them up, others are surrounded by wire mesh, still more peek out from under mounds of fertilizer. A few unplanted ones have canvas bags wrapped around the bottom, for extra protection, I guess.

A small fountain completely covered in crusted-over bird droppings sits a few feet in front of the trees, like an old queen presiding over her subjects. Was this the birdbath Rory sacrificed her phone to save? I’d have to go on record as saying it probably wasn’t worth it.

Amanda inhales deeply. “Ah, smell those apples!”

I would say she’s crazy, that these trees are completely bare, except that the smell of apples really
does
fill the air. Apples and apple pies and apple tortes and apple turnovers. “Where’s that smell coming from?” I ask, turning around in a circle.

“Not you, too!” David groans.

Rory and Amanda share a quick look. Amanda writes something to Leo, who nods eagerly.

“You smell it, too, Tara?” Rory asks.

“The apples?” I ask. “Doesn’t everyone?”

David shakes his head. “Only girls can smell it, apparently.”

I look over at Leo, who reddens slightly and immediately starts pulling at the collar of his T-shirt like it’s suddenly gotten too tight. I just
know
he can smell it, too. Why would he let David believe he can’t? What would be the point of that? Maybe they just don’t want David to feel left out. For kids who only became friends not that long ago, they really protect each other. For the second time since I’ve been to this town, I get a pang of jealousy. I don’t like it. I’ve made it a habit not to long for things. It makes not getting them a lot easier to handle.

“Come on,” Amanda says, running over to the first row of trees. “Come see what we’ve done. Apple Grove used to be a really important part of Willow Falls. Over a hundred years ago, the families who lived here exported apples all over the state.”

Leo makes these wide sweeping motions with his arms. “Can’t you just picture it? The townspeople used to string lights up in the apple trees and hold weddings and school dances, and boats would sail back and forth on the river. It used to be such an amazing place.” He lets his arms fall to his sides. “But the river dried up, the people who lived here passed away …” He pauses for a moment, than continues. “The houses eventually came down, and years later the mall went up, destroying the few trees that were still producing fruit. Amanda and I got
permission to plant new apple trees in this small clearing.” He glances around. “Guess it doesn’t look like much.”

“It’ll take a few more years until the trees grow fruit,” Amanda says, gently touching one of the thin branches. “And some might never. But the ground remembers how to grow apples, so we have hope.”

Leo grins at me. “If you promise not to laugh, we’ll show you how we help them grow.”

“Forget it, Leo, no way,” David says, crossing his arms.

“Why not? You do it all the time.”

“Yeah, but that’s with you guys. Tara’s going to think I’m a total dork.”

“She probably already does,” Rory jokes. “So you might as well go ahead.”

He shakes his head and presses his lips together.

“Come on,” Leo says. “You’re going to have to do it next month in front of a hundred people. You can’t get shy now.”

He sighs. “Fine. But you know it doesn’t really help the trees grow.”

“Sure it does,” Amanda says. She touches a tiny leaf on a spindly branch. “I’m sure this little guy wasn’t here last week.”

David rolls his eyes. “All right. Assume the position.”

The other three immediately sit down on the grass, and to my surprise, keep going until they are fully lying down. “Come on, Tara,” Rory says, patting the ground next to her.

I hesitate. I don’t normally get too freaked out by bugs, but when I was seven we lived someplace where you couldn’t go on
the grass because of fire ants. Fire ants hurt. I don’t think I’ve lain in the grass in six years. I guess it must be safe in Willow Falls or they definitely wouldn’t be doing this. So I lie down next to Rory and try not to think of what might be crawling in my hair.

It’s late afternoon by now, so the sun is off to the side and not shining right in our eyes. The sky is completely blue and cloudless, and the smell of apples is stronger down here for some reason. After a few seconds, the heat of the earth rises up beneath me. It feels nice, and I relax into it. And then suddenly I feel like I’m moving. My fingers instinctively grab on to the blades of grass to either side of me. I know we’re not supposed to feel the spinning of the earth on its axis, but I swear I do. I have this flash of fear that if I let go, I’d go hurtling into outer space. I shut my eyes tight and try to catch my breath, which seems to be coming faster and faster.

Panting Like a Dog Around Kids You Just Met = Really Embarrassing.

Chapter Eight

 

“Are you okay?” David asks.

I open one eye to see him standing above me, looking down in concern.

I open my other eye, experiment with turning my head from side to side, then take a deep breath. I think I’m back to normal. “Sorry, go ahead and do the … whatever it is you’re doing.”

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” I say quickly, anxious to have the focus be off me.

“All right.” David steps back until he’s next to the fountain. He clears his throat. “This is called ‘Shalom Rav,’ ” he says, then starts singing.

It’s a Hebrew song, that much I can figure out. But it has a much softer melody that the chanting I heard in the pool hole. His voice is really smooth and the song is actually really, really beautiful. Lying there, feeling the warmth from the earth below me and the warmth from the sun above me, and the warmth from David’s song in the air, I feel something I’ve never felt before. A sort of connectedness to everything. It still feels like the earth is spinning beneath me, but it’s not unpleasant now.

Then the song is interrupted by a different kind of singing.
Kreeee, kreeee, kreeee.
I lift my head and there they are, perched
on the edge of the broken fountain, legs entwined with each other. I push myself up onto my elbows and stare at them while David keeps singing. I’ve never seen a hawk in my entire life, and now they’re everywhere, and apparently they’re all friendly — well, with each other anyway. Unless … I’m no expert on hawks, but I would swear these are the same ones I saw at the train station. Could one of those hawks actually have been the one who visited me in my backyard at home? I immediately dismiss the thought. It’s hundreds of miles from here. Unless it hitched a ride on the train, it would be impossible.

David finishes his song, and the others sit up and clap. I clap, too. He was really, really good. I could only tell he was nervous occasionally.

“Aw, it was nothing,” David says, waving away the applause. “Anything to help the trees.”

The hawks rustle their feathers, almost like they’re clapping, too.

“Look,” Amanda says, pointing at the birds. “It’s not only nature you can charm. It’s also the animal kingdom. Max and Flo love your singing, too.”

I look around in surprise. “You guys know those birds?”

They all nod. “They’ve been in Willow Falls for decades,” Leo says. “My parents remember them from when they were teenagers. Some kids named them Max and Flo. The names just stuck.”

“I think it’s very romantic,” Rory says wistfully. “They’re like lovebirds. Except, you know, they’re hawks. You never see one without the other.”

Well, that decides it. It was bad enough having one bird facing me down in my backyard, I’d have noticed if there were two.

While the others are tending to a tree that has started falling over, I gravitate to the fountain and watch the hawks for a minute. The smaller one is using its beak to clean the feathers on the larger, who then rustles them contentedly. Some unseen signal must have passed through them, because they both lift off with a mutual
garunk
. But as they fly overhead, something about the bright yellow feet on the larger one seems awfully familiar.

“Look out!” David yells. I look down from the sky in time to see him running right at me. He places his hands on both of my shoulders and shoves. I stumble back, unable to catch my balance before falling onto my butt. I watch in horror as a stream of bird droppings hits David squarely on top of his head.

David falls dramatically to his knees. “Hamburglar down,” he calls out weakly. “Hamburglar down.”

“Wow!” Rory says, suddenly appearing at my side. “He took a bullet for you! Well, a bullet of bird poop!”

I scramble to my feet, ignoring the ache in my butt from the hard ground. I stare at David, unsure of what to say, or even think. No one has ever done anything like
that
for me before.

“I’m pretty sure this means you’re indebted to him for life,” Leo says.

Some bird poop slides from David’s hair onto his glasses. He takes them off and wipes them on the bottom of his shirt.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” I manage to squeak out. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, putting his glasses back on and blinking. “Purely selfish on my part. A bird pooping on your head is supposed to be good luck. So since you’re the reason it happened, that means
you
must be good luck. That’s why you came to Willow Falls this summer, right?” He grins. “To bring me luck for my bar mitzvah.”

My stomach twists. I’m absolutely positive my parents weren’t thinking of David when they sent me here. I point to the side of his glasses. “Um, there’s still a little …”

He quickly wipes them off again. “No one happens to have a tissue in their pocket, do they?” He’s still holding on to his button-down shirt, and I bet he’s wondering if he should just take it off and use it to wipe his hair. But if he felt comfortable doing that he would have done it already.

“Hang on,” Rory says, “I’ve got something.” She unwraps a thick strip of canvas from the bottom of one of the unplanted trees, then repacks the dirt firmly around it. I never would have thought of that.

“This is why we keep her around,” Amanda tells me, smiling proudly at Rory. “She’s resourceful.”

David lowers his head, and Rory does as good a job as she can to clean him up with the rag. Good thing his hair is so short. Prior experience has taught me it’s much worse with long hair. And if it weren’t for David, I’d be finding that out all over again.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not good luck for anyone,” I assure him when Rory finishes. “I mean, I’ll be turning thirteen on Friday the thirteenth, so that’s a whole lotta thirteens. I’m not superstitious, but it can’t be
good
luck.”

He shakes his head. Some of his hair is matted together and it doesn’t move. I try not to stare.

“If you weren’t good luck, why would
your
thirteenth birthday and
my
bar mitzvah be the same weekend?”

Amanda and Leo raise their eyebrows at that, then turn and huddle together with their boards. I try to ignore their frantic scratching and reply, “Um, a coincidence?”

Rory makes this strange sound that’s a cross between a chuckle and a snort. Then she says, “There
are
no coincidences in Willow Falls.”

I look at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Leo told me that when we first started becoming friends,” she replies. But instead of explaining it, she turns to the closest unplanted tree and asks, “Hey, Amanda, think this little guy is ready to be planted?”

But Amanda is too busy with Leo to answer.

“Will you come to it?” David asks, ignoring the others. “My bar mitzvah, I mean?” He stands up and brushes the dirt off his knees. “Unless you have other plans. Like, maybe your aunt is planning a birthday party?”

I grimace at the thought that they’d throw another party for me, and shake my head.

“So it’s settled, then. You’ll be my good luck charm. I’ve been practicing for a year and a half, and I’m still not very good. As you can see, I could use all the luck I can get.” He points to his matted hair.

Without waiting for an answer, or for me to tell him I’m really not cut out to be anyone’s anything, he grabs Leo and they run off to see who can push stones the farthest
or some other boy-type thing that involves rocks and brute strength.

Amanda and Rory immediately spring into action.

“She’s about Kylie’s size,” Amanda says, eyeing me up and down.

Rory nods in agreement. “Yeah, but no offense, your sister doesn’t seem like the type to lend clothes.”

“She’s actually been a lot nicer lately. Well, when she and her boyfriend are getting along, that is. I’ll ask her on a good day.” Then Amanda turns back to me. “Unless you brought a nice dress with you?”

I’m a bit shell-shocked from all that just happened, so it takes me a few seconds to figure they’re talking about dressing me for the bar mitzvah. I look down at my drab clothes. “Um, this is pretty much as fancy as I get.”

“That’s okay, I don’t usually wear things like this either,” Rory says, lifting the hem of her sundress. “I got it for a birthday party last year that I thought would be a really big deal.” She pauses, and glances at Amanda, who gives her this nod of encouragement, which is weird. Then Rory asks, “You know how sometimes you expect something to go one way, but then things end up being totally different? That happened to me a lot last year. Seriously, a LOT. Most of the time things didn’t turn out so well, but sometimes they turned out way better than I could have imagined. And maybe that’s how it will be for you … or maybe something totally different.”

Rory = Not Making Sense.

“Um, I’m not sure what you mean.”

Amanda lightly touches my arm. “I think what Rory’s trying to say, is that sometimes you wake up in the morning, and things are suddenly really weird. And, well, maybe you don’t understand it right away, or maybe not really ever. But you just have to trust that … oh, I’m not explaining it very well. Maybe I should just ask … is Willow Falls like you expected? What about the people here? Has anyone, you know, surprised you?”

I squirm, not sure what the right answer is and not wanting to insult anyone. Any time we move to a new town, I set my expectations so low that if anyone even smiles at me in the hall it’s a victory. So these people have already surprised me just by saying hello! To say nothing of an Australian personal assistant who I can’t understand most of the time, a math-genius cousin with a father who has rooms full of weird stuff, a boy who chants in pool holes and whose singing makes trees grow, two best friends who use blackboards to talk to each other, or Rory, with the evil bunny and the strange way she has of both blending in and standing out. And then there’s the matter of those hand-holding hawks that seem to be following me. But for all of
them
this is their normal life. How could I tell them how strange they are, even if they’re asking me?

Finally I say, “Well, my parents only decided I was coming here three days ago. So I didn’t have time to build up any real expectations of the town, or, you know, the people here.”

A quizzical look flies between them. They don’t even try to hide it this time.

“Really?” Rory asks, knitting her brow. “Just three days ago?”

“Uh-huh. It was very last-minute. My mom’s job got moved up, so I have to finish the last two weeks of the school year online.” Okay, so there may be a few gaps in the story, but I didn’t actually
lie
about anything.

“Huh,” Amanda says, giving me another head tilt. Then she mumbles something about being right back and strides off toward the boys, blackboard swinging so fast it hits her on the chin. She yanks Leo aside and writes something on her board. I can’t help thinking it’s about me, but what could she possibly have to say? I barely told them anything.

Rory touches me gently on the arm and turns me a bit so my back is facing the others. “So,” she says breezily, “have you been to a bar mitzvah before?”

It’s obvious she’s changing the subject, but this time I don’t mind. I shake my head.

“Me, neither,” Rory says. “David’s, like, the only Jewish kid in town. He’s been learning everything through this online program his mom signed him up for.”

“Really? You can do that?”

She nods. “And there’s no temple near here, so the service and the party afterward are going to be at the community center. That reminds me, I have to look for a gift.”

My eyes widen. A present! Of course presents go along with bar mitzvahs. And from what I remember hearing at school, they’re pretty expensive ones. Rory must have seen my expression because she says, “Definitely don’t worry about a gift, Tara. David wouldn’t expect that at all.”

But Mom’s voice in the back of my head tells me otherwise. “I wouldn’t feel right going to a party without a gift.” And
before I can stop myself, I add, “My parents gave me spending money for the summer, so I’ll just use part of that.”

Rory’s dad pulls into the parking area and that effectively ends our conversation. I follow the others to the car. Maybe the stores in Willow Falls will accept magic beans instead of money. It worked in
Jack and the Beanstalk.
Or wait, maybe it didn’t. Although if I actually
owned
magic beans, I’d use them to go back in time and un-pepper-spray the principal. Then I’d be off to Madagascar, where no one would expect anything from me for two whole months. (I’m pretty sure none of the lemurs would be declaring their manhood with a ceremony requiring a big gift and a fancy dress.)

“Look what I found!” Rory’s dad exclaims when we reach him. He’s standing outside the car, waving a large book in his hand. The words
Willow Falls High School
are emblazoned on the front in gold.

“Daaaad,” Rory complains, her hands on her hips. “Not that old yearbook again! I’ve told you before, my friends don’t want to see pictures of your high school rock band. We get it, you were cool once.”

“Very funny, darling daughter,” Rory’s dad says, flipping the book open. “But I brought it because I thought Tara might like to see something.” He holds the book out to me, open to a page near the end. I take it, and everyone crowds around to see. A large banner proclaims
PROM KING AND QUEEN
, with a full-page color photo underneath. A dark-haired girl in a pink dress steadies a small silver tiara on her head with one hand, and clutches a bouquet of white roses with the other. At her side is a skinny boy in a white tuxedo, all gawky arms and legs. I
recognize the picture right away. Mom told me how Grandma had begged her to wear that dress to the prom, and how she’d donated it to the local Salvation Army the very next morning. Next to the picture, Dad had inscribed a message to Rory’s father:
I’m sure you’ll find your prom queen one day. Let’s hope she’s not a zombie.
Then below it he’d drawn a cartoon zombie with skin dripping off his face.

Rory’s dad chuckles. “Your dad always did love his monsters.”