“Griffin,” I say. “I get it.”
Natalie wipes a feathered arm across her face. “It’s really hot in there.”
Gram waves from her chair. “Happy Halloween, Natalie!”
“How are you feeling?” Natalie asks my grandmother.
“Like I broke my ankle,” says Gram. “Otherwise, I’m good.”
Natalie gives Gram a big smile, then turns to me. “Are you surprised?”
“Yes,” I say. “But I’m getting used to being surprised by you.”
“What happened to your movie schedule?” asks Mom.
“We convinced them to push it back a day,” Natalie explains. “Because every once in a while, the movie star gets to have things her way.”
Mom grins. “I can appreciate that.”
Natalie glances around the living room, then sniffs. “It doesn’t smell like smoke in here anymore.”
“With luck,” says Gram, “Missy Constantino will never cook again.”
“Mayors don’t cook,” says Mom.
“Then you’ve got my vote,” Gram tells her.
Natalie smiles and laughs, and suddenly I do not want to sit inside my house on Halloween night. “Since you’re here,” I say to Natalie, “and since you’re in a costume . . .”
Natalie clasps her hands together and almost starts jumping up and down. “Are you going to ask to take me trick-or-treating? Are you?”
“If you let me finish my sentence.”
“Yes!” she says. “I would love to go trick-or-treating with you, Danny!”
“I don’t have a costume,” I confess. “But we can still walk together.”
Natalie reaches into her plastic pumpkin and pulls out a paper tiger mask. “Asha said I should give this to you.”
“You were at the Kallis’ house?”
“Just a few minute ago,” she tells me. “Ajay, Zoey, and everybody are waiting for us outside.”
I peek out the window. Five small Greek soldiers wave back at me.
Natalie presses the tiger mask into my hands.
“You want me to go as a paper tiger?” I ask.
“Danny Constantino,” says Natalie, “you are not a paper tiger. You are Cuper Cove’s first Pulikali dancer.”
Even though it’s just a simple paper plate decorated with orange and black stripes plus a couple eye holes, the mask looks great. It’s really well put together too. It even has a long Velcro strap, which I wrap around the back of my head. Thank you, Asha Kalli.
I hold out my arm. “Would you like to go trick-or-treating with me?” I say to Natalie.
She grins. “Are you asking me on a date?”
I glance at Gram and Mom. Their heads nod up and down like rocking chairs on rocket fuel.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
“In that case,” says Natalie, “I am very pleased to accept your invitation.”
I help Natalie get back into her eagle head. She reaches out and puts her paw in mine. “This is my first real date ever.”
“Mine too,” I admit.
With Mom’s help, we maneuver through the door and back outside. I lead Natalie across the yard. Despite her eagle eyes, she can barely see a thing in that mask. We join our friends on the sidewalk and head into the night. Natalie stumbles, but I’ve got her arm, so I hold her up.
“What’s the plan for making this work?” she asks.
I smile beneath my tiger mask and give her paw a squeeze. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Chapter 23
the definition of an epilogue
Cuper Cove’s Election Day comes just three days after Halloween. I slip into my room and phone Natalie as soon as the results are in. “My mother is Cuper Cove’s new mayor,” I tell her.
“Isn’t that what you expected?” she asks.
It’s quiet behind Natalie, so I know that she’s at home. I’ve learned that she and her mom share a pretty apartment around the corner from something called the La Brea Tar Pits. These are basically huge holes filled with smelly, molten, naturally occurring liquid asphalt. Over tens of thousands of years, ancient wolves, woolly mammoths, giant sloths, and more have been trapped and died in the pits. It’s hard to believe that this is a nice neighborhood, but Natalie promises I’ll like it when I visit one day. Right now, California just sounds weird.
“I was hoping for a miracle,” I say.
Natalie laughs. “I don’t think that’s what miracles are for, Danny.”
I lie back on my bed. “My mom’s boyfriend says the same thing.”
“Your mother has a boyfriend?”
“It’s a new development.”
Mr. Beamon—he says I can call him Shad when we’re not on the bus—is downstairs preparing pumpkin soup, fresh bread, and homemade apple pie so we can share a victory dinner for Mom at Gram’s house tomorrow. It’s going to be just the four of us.
“I think it’s going to be good,” I say.
“I’m glad,” says Natalie. “Do you have time to help me with some homework?” she asks now.
“Sure,” I say. “What have you got?”
“What is a good example of an epilogue?”
I move over to my computer and look up the definition of the word.
“Epilogue,” I say. “Noun. A concluding part added to a novel, film, or play, which often gives a short statement about what happens to the characters after the story finishes. It comes from the Greek word epi, which means ‘in addition’ and logos, which means ‘word.’”
“You speak Greek?” says Natalie.
“I speak Wikipedia,” I tell her.
“I know the last bit at the end of the final Harry Potter movie is an epilogue,” says Natalie. “But I hate that one.”
“Why?” I ask.
“They all just live happily ever after.”
“What’s wrong with happily ever after?”
“It doesn’t leave anything to the imagination.”
I tap at my computer. “According to the World Wide Web, Romeo and Juliet has an epilogue.”
Natalie makes a gagging sound.
“Is it another happily ever after?” I ask.
“For never was a story of more woe,” Natalie says in her theater voice. “Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”
On my screen, I see a pen-and-ink sketch of two sobbing teenagers. “I thought it was a romance.”
“Romance it is, and yet comedy no. Please never become my own Romeo.”
“Did you just make a poem?”
Natalie ignores my question. “Spoiler alert,” she says. “Romeo and Juliet die in the end.”
“I’ve got a better one,” I tell her. “Have you ever seen a movie called Up?”
Natalie gasps. “Danny, that’s my favorite movie of all time. The final three minutes are brilliant. The two main characters, Russell and Mr. Frederickson, win a fighter plane battle, they make it home for Russell’s Senior Wilderness Explorer Award, they get ice cream cones, and then we know that Mr. Frederickson and Russell are going to stay friends forever. They’re more like a family really. And of course, there’s a talking dog.”
“Of course,” I say.
“Not only that,” Natalie continues at breakneck speed, “Mr. Frederickson is going to live out the rest of his life in the way that his true love, Ellie, would have wanted him to. He’s basically going to be his best self. Oh, I wish Ellie could have been alive to see it. Don’t you?”
“Sure,” I say. Though honestly, I’m having a little trouble keeping up.
“And speaking of Ellie, in the very, very last seconds of the movie, we see Ellie’s house is now on a cliff overlooking Paradise Falls, and that’s what she always wanted since she was a little girl. So even though she’s dead, her dreams can all still come true.”
“Wow,” I
say. “You really like Up a lot.”
Natalie sighs. “It’s perfect.”
“I don’t remember all of that happening in the last three minutes.”
“It’s all there,” she assures me. “It’s like a giant promise that even though it’s really hard, people can keep each other honest and true and good. They can stay together, and they can love each other.” She pauses and then adds, “Wouldn’t it be amazing if that happened to us?”
I think of the long road Mr. Beamon—Shad—had to travel before he ended up downstairs in the kitchen. And the short time my parents, who definitely loved each other, had together. And my grandmother, who has spent so much of her life living alone. And Natalie’s parents, who are friends but are apart.
“It would be amazing.” I pause, and then I ask, “Is this like our epilogue?”
“Danny,” Natalie says without hesitation. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
I know that’s a line from a famous movie. I don’t know which one. But it doesn’t matter. Because this isn’t a movie. There is no script. There is no map.
If it is possible, we will find our way together.
Acknowledgements
I have never constructed a cardboard unicorn. I’ve not been chased by television cameras. Except for the time I accidentally knocked Sally Fields onto the ground and then fell on top of her, I haven’t spent significant time with Hollywood celebrities. And yet, there is very little in Danny Constantino’s story that feels made up to me. That’s because I am surrounded by family, friends, makers, and mentors who believe that fun, failure, adventures, and joy are almost always worth sharing. So if I know you and you found a story or scene in this book that sounds kind of familiar . . . thank you!
Of course, as it says on the copyright page, this is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Wink. Wink.
Here are a few incontrovertible facts: This book would not exist without great enthusiasm, faith, and guidance from my editor Nancy Mercado and my agent, Susan Hawk. They are extraordinary book-making partners and trusted friends as well as all-around awesome human beings. I am very grateful to Neil Swaab for illustrating the cover, and to the entire Penguin team including Rosie Ahmed, Regina Castillo, Maria Fazio, Theresa Evangelista, Cerise Steel and many more whose work behind the scenes brings books to life. Also, I owe special thanks to my publisher Lauri Hornik for welcoming me home to Dial Books for Young Readers!
Finally, I cannot imagine writing a book about family, friendship, laughter, and romance if those things were not very real in my own life. It would be impossible to list every person who has ever given those gifts to me. It is equally impossible to describe how thankful I am to be married to the love of my life who is also my very best friend. I love you, Debbie.
About the Author
Paul Acampora writes novels and short stories for young readers. Kids, parents, and critics praise his work for its laugh-out-loud humor, rollicking dialogue, and heartfelt characters. His books include Defining Dulcie, Rachel Spinelli Punched Me in the Face, I Kill the Mockingbird, How to Avoid Extinction, and Confusion Is Nothing New. Paul is a dad, husband, former kindergarten teacher, and full-time development professional now living in Pennsylvania's Lehigh Valley.
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
Danny Constantino's First (and Maybe Last?) Date Page 15
