Aleca Zamm Is a Wonder

by Ginger Rue

  “Zephyr!” her mother exclaimed. “How did you get here?”

  “I don’t know,” Zephyr replied. “I thought a thought, and here I am.”

  “Aunt Jessica’s house is near about twenty-five miles away,” said Zephyr’s father. “Somebody drove you here in a car?” He looked out the window but saw only darkness.

  “No, sir,” Zephyr stated. “I thought a thought. That’s all.”

  Zephyr explained to her parents over and over what had happened. They didn’t believe her. It wasn’t so much that they thought she was lying. They thought she was out of her mind. “Should we call the doctor?” her mother wailed.

  But before that could happen, Alec spoke up. “I have something to tell you too,” he said. He told his story about the horse and the snake to his astonished family.

  “I have something to say also,” offered Zander. Then he shared his story about what had happened at Newman’s store. Except he left out the part about Mr. Newman being a cheat.

  Mr. Zamm spoke up. “I have heard tell of strange things such as these before,” he claimed. “My father died when I was young. But some say he could be in the same room with you and you’d never see him. His brother, my uncle, lived far away. I met him only once. But they said he could see and hear things that happened in the next county. I thought they were just good stories, something to whisper about for fun.”

  The Zamm family was up all night, wondering what these strange things could mean.

  They were now inclined to believe that these abilities skipped a generation, like blue eyes or red hair. Maybe these powers were like the dimple in the chin that all three of the children had, like their Grandfather Zamm, but that their father had missed.

  Yes, the Zamms had much to wonder about.

  16

  I’d Rather Be a Pretty Witch

  I’ve never been very good at not saying what I think. So I went ahead and asked what I wanted to know. “Are we witches?” I said to Aunt Zephyr.

  “What do you think a witch is?” she replied.

  “Magic ladies who look like humans but aren’t,” I answered. “They live forever and ever and never get old.” I had heard stories about ugly witches and pretty witches. Only the mean ones were ugly. I decided right then that I would be nice so that I would get to be one of the pretty ones.

  “Young lady, you and I are not witches,” Aunt Zephyr proclaimed. “Look at this.” She pulled her face back to make her wrinkles go away, then let go so that they looked even deeper. Then she pulled up her sleeve and pulled the skin under her arms and knocked it so that it swayed back and forth like a hammock. “Deterioration is the way of all human flesh. As you can see, I am one hundred percent human.”

  I guess Aunt Zephyr wanted to be one of the pretty witches too. I was kind of disappointed.

  “What do you mean by ‘we’?” my mother asked. “Are you saying that Aleca talks to animals . . . or reads minds . . . or teleports?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Aunt Zephyr said, and chuckled. “Aleca can’t do any of those things.”

  My mother breathed a sigh of relief.

  “All she can do at this point is stop time,” Aunt Zephyr continued.

  “She can do what?” My mother turned green.

  “Skippy, get the girl some smelling salts,” Aunt Zephyr told my father. “I do believe she’s about to pass out.”

  But my father was too busy staring at me. “Aleca can stop time?”

  “How did you know?” I asked Aunt Zephyr.

  “I was standing on the shores of Northern Ireland, watching the waves, when they stopped. Just as a wave was about to crash along the rocks, it stood at attention instead. That was my first clue. Then the next day I was in this lovely village in southern Iceland picking the most gorgeous purple flowers by a stream. Some birds flew by and then stopped and hung in the air like a mobile over a baby’s crib.”

  “You mean time stopped all over the whole entire world?” I asked.

  Aunt Zephyr laughed. “Silly child! Did you think you could stop time in one place only? It’s an entire system—you can’t just do it piecemeal. That would throw the whole thing out of whack.” She said this like everybody should know it. I felt embarrassed for not figuring it out myself.

  “But how did you know? Weren’t you stopped, just like everyone else?” I wondered.

  “Child, if I were just like everyone else, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?”

  “So you’re saying that these . . . powers . . . abilities . . . ,” my dad began, “don’t affect other . . . witches?”

  “Skippy,” Aunt Zephyr said, snorting, “we are most certainly not witches. Weren’t you listening?”

  “If you’re not witches,” my mother said, “then what are you?”

  “Harmony, Skippy,” my aunt said, “fear not. Your daughter is not  a witch.” My mother breathed out a big breath. Then the gleam returned to Aunt Zephyr’s eye and she announced, “Your daughter is a Wonder.”

  17

  I’m Not a Dud . . . I’m a Wonder!

  “What’s a Wonder?” I demanded. If I was one, I wanted to know what it meant.

  “That’s what my brothers and I learned to call ourselves,” explained Aunt Zephyr. “We knew we weren’t immortal, because our grandfather, who had been like us, had died, and so had his brother. We knew we weren’t superheroes, because we didn’t have superstrength and, more important, no one had given us a colorful costume. The things we could do didn’t have any rhyme or reason that we could see. They were just strange abilities. We wondered what it all meant. My mother said that’s what we were—Wonders. A ‘wonder’ is something that causes surprise, and we were certainly surprised.”

  “So am I,” my mother blurted. “I’m so surprised, I think I may throw up.”

  “Aunt Zephyr,” my father said gently, “how did you know that Aleca was the source of the time delay?”

  “That’s a story for another day,” she replied. “I had a bit of information to go on, and yet . . . Wonders have a sense of things—a special sense that you Duds don’t have. For example, if you heard a noise from the kitchen, how would you know to go and look in the kitchen instead of upstairs?”

  “I guess I’d be able to hear where it was coming from,” my dad answered.

  “It’s kind of like that,” said Aunt Zephyr. “When time stopped, I could tell where the disturbance was coming from, so I thought a thought, and here I am. I came looking for the source. Other Wonders, you see, are immune to the, shall we say, high jinks of their peers.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means that when you stop time, it doesn’t affect me. Or anyone else of our kind. We go right on about our business as usual.”

  “Oh.” I had so many questions; I didn’t know which to ask first. “How’d you know it was me and not Dad or Dylan?”

  “Well,” began Aunt Zephyr, “it all made sense when I thought about it. I already suspected that the Wonder trait skips a generation, and since I was pretty sure your father was a Dud, I figured it had to be one of you children.”

  “Why didn’t you think it was Dylan?” I asked.

  Aunt Zephyr waved her hand and made a pfft noise. “You’ve heard the expression ‘It takes one to know one’?”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “I could tell from a mile away that your sister was a Dud. She has ‘Dud’ written all over her. No offense, Harmony.”

  My mother shook her head and held up her hands. Her eyes were as big as fried eggs. I guessed this was a lot for her, all in one day.

  “You, on the other hand,” Aunt Zephyr continued, “are a Wonder if I’ve ever seen one.”

  I sat up straighter without being told.

  “Yes, you are obviously a Wonder,” Aunt Zephyr went on. “And we are going to have to do something about that. Quickly.”

  18

  There’s a Downside to Everything

  I didn’t like the way Aunt Zephyr had
said that something had to be done about my being a Wonder. I had just gotten the news that I was special, that I finally had a thing, and already someone was talking about taking it away.

  Yes, stopping time had been kind of scary, especially because I didn’t know how I had done it or why. But I wanted to find out. And once I found out, I thought maybe I might want to keep doing it. Now that I kind of knew what was going on, I could hardly wait to tell Maria.

  “What do you mean we have to do something, Aunt Zephyr?” asked my mother. Oh good. She was asking for me so I didn’t have to.

  “Obviously,” declared Aunt Zephyr, “we can’t have a ten-year-old child in charge of the world’s clock.”

  I guessed she had a point. Maybe when I was eleven? I asked that question out loud, but Aunt Zephyr shook her head.

  “No one could ever be old enough to have that kind of power unchecked,” she insisted.

  Unchecked. So did that mean I could have it checked?

  Aunt Zephyr seemed to have read my mind. I wondered if she had caught that ability from her brother Zander. “I can’t take the power away from you, Aleca,” she explained. “It would make things much easier for you and everyone else if I could.”

  “Easier?” I said. “Why would it be easier?”

  “I know this is a lot for you to think about right now,” my dad said. “It’s a lot for all of us.” He looked at my mother, then back at me. “But, Aleca, this is not fun and games. This is a very big deal. You need to listen carefully to what Aunt Zephyr is about to tell you.”

  Aunt Zephyr cleared her throat. “Do you know why you never met your grandfather?” she asked.

  “Because he died before I was born.”

  “Yes. And do you know why?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Because the man almost never got a breath of fresh air!” she exclaimed. “He had to avoid nature. You think it would be fun to talk to animals? Well, it wasn’t. They never hush. They could tell by some instinct that Alec could communicate with them, and so they never left him alone. All the questions, concerns, and complaints they had about humankind, Alec got an earful. As soon as he was old enough, he left the farm and moved to the big city. Even there he carried an umbrella every single day, rain or shine, to hide from the birds. He avoided people with pets. Dogs on walks would drag their owners by the leash so they could get to Alec. ‘I’m so excited! So many smells!’ or ‘Can I have a treat?’ or ‘I’m a good boy! I’m a good boy! I’m a good boy! Yes, I am!’ And if he made the mistake of visiting someone with a house cat . . . Well, trust me. You do not want to know what cats have to say. In between demanding an explanation for laser pointers, they have a lot of criticisms about humans.”

  “So that’s why my father would never let me get a pet,” said my dad.

  “That’s not entirely true,” said Aunt Zephyr. “You had a goldfish once. Alec told me about it.”

  “Oh yes.” My dad nodded. “Strangest thing. It jumped out of its fishbowl and died. We found it lying there on the table.”

  “It was trying to get to your father,” Aunt Zephyr explained. “It wanted to tell him a joke. Goldfish think they are funny, but they have no sense of humor whatsoever. Drove your father bonkers. Every time he walked past the bowl, it was ‘Knock, knock’ or ‘Two halibuts and a clam are on an airplane’ or ‘Stop me if you’ve heard this one.’ Your dad tried to avoid the table with the fishbowl, but the fish was so lonely, it forgot it couldn’t breathe air and tried to go looking for your father. Goldfish! Terrible sense of humor and not very bright, either.”

  I had never thought about goldfish getting lonely. I suppose it must be boring, swimming back and forth all day long in those little bowls.

  “And Zander—poor Zander!” moaned Aunt Zephyr.

  “Poor?” I cried. “Couldn’t he read minds? He knew everything!”

  “Yes he did,” agreed Aunt Zephyr. “And it was the most dreadful of burdens. Aleca, did your parents teach you how to be polite?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “What does it mean to be polite?” she prompted.

  I had to think about it for a minute. “It means to not slurp your soup or burp and stuff. And to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘how do you do?’ And chew with your mouth closed. And to not say mean things.” Then I thought of one more. “And to not say everything I think.” Mom and Dad had to remind me about that one a lot.

  “Exactly,” noted Aunt Zephyr. “Polite people keep unkind thoughts to themselves. But for my brother Zander, there was no such thing as a polite person. He could read the thoughts of everyone he met. Every awful thing people thought, every sneaky motive they had, it was all laid bare for Zander to know. It was so awful, he had to become a hermit. He never left the house, ever. I used to come by and bring him food and soap. Especially the soap. And lots of it. Have you ever smelled a hermit?”

  I shook my head because of course I had not smelled a hermit. But from the ick face Aunt Zephyr made, I guessed that hermits must be superstinkified.

  Mom gasped. “Will Aleca have to become a hermit?”

  “I don’t want to be a stinky hermit!”

  Aunt Zephyr, who had seemed lost in her memories, snapped back like a rubber band. “You won’t,” she assured me. “Not if I can help it. Aleca, now you understand that you must learn to control your ability. Otherwise, your ability will control you!”

  “Is that even possible?” my dad wondered. “Aunt Zephyr, can you control your ability?”

  “Most of the time, yes,” she replied. “It’s been like my other, normal abilities, really. It took me years to grow into mastery. As a girl I had to be careful not to think too hard about any particular place, or the next thing I knew, there I was. But as a grown woman, for some years I was able to enjoy being a Wonder. In time I found my method of travel quite exhilarating, and indeed, I have seen the world. But as I’ve grown older, I find it has become more difficult. Just like my ability to run or to read without glasses has deteriorated, so has my ability to control my gift. But it takes extreme concentration. I cannot allow my mind to wander. Just last year, for example, I saw a postcard with a giraffe on it, and the next thing I knew, I was in Africa.

  “Aleca,” Aunt Zephyr continued. “I never had another Wonder to mentor me. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you make the best of this.”

  I thought that sounded pretty good. “I still can’t believe you knew it was me,” I marveled. “From all the way in Iceland!”

  Aunt Zephyr nodded. “Yes,” she agreed. “And let’s just hope I’m the only one who did.”

  19

  Wondering Is Top Secret

  “What do you mean, Aunt Zephyr?” my mother asked. “Who else would know about Aleca?”

  “That’s hard to say,” Aunt Zephyr replied. “We have no way of knowing how many other Wonders are out there or who they are. Some may be good and some may be bad. I have suspected for some time that a Wonder—or Wonders—may have the ability to control the weather. It would explain the storms that come from nowhere and destroy without warning. Others may have abilities they use for good. Whenever you read a news story about a mysterious rescue, for example, there is always the possibility that a Wonder was involved in some way. Perhaps. Perhaps not. There is no way to be sure.”

  “Alec,” my mother said. “That hailstorm the other day—it was eighty degrees outside, and then suddenly, hail the size of basketballs!”

  “As I said,” Aunt Zephyr continued, “we cannot jump to conclusions. We simply have to be open to the possibility. We also must consider that others who are not Wonders know we exist. They may be looking for us.”

  “I could be famous!” I said. I had always wanted to be on TV or get lots of hits on the Internet for doing something cool. I was already thinking about how charming and funny I would be when I went on the late-night talk shows.

  “Absolutely not!” Aunt Zephyr said sternly. “You must never, ever tell anyone what y
ou can do.”

  “Not even my best friend?” I protested.

  “Not even your best friend,” she said. “Even friends can’t be trusted with something like this. They might tell someone else. They might be frightened of your ability. They might even stop being your friend.”

  I couldn’t imagine Maria ever not being my friend. But then I thought about how Madison used to be my friend, so I supposed Aunt Zephyr had a point. Also, I thought again about how Maria had almost told me about my birthday present when I hadn’t even asked for a hint. Maria could superquick spill the beans on something like this without even meaning to. I couldn’t tell her a secret this big and expect her to never let it slip.

  “If there are people looking for Wonders,” my dad said, “or other Wonders who are up to no good . . . what would they do if they found you and Aleca?”

  “I have absolutely no idea,” Aunt Zephyr replied. “And I don’t intend to ever find out.”

  20

  The One Time in History When Jolly Ranchers Didn’t Bring Happiness

  Aunt Zephyr had given me a lot to think about. Maybe that was why I couldn’t sleep much that night. Or maybe it was because I had slept in that morning. Or maybe it was because Aunt Zephyr was sleeping in my room and she sounded like a gorilla with asthma when she snored.

  But even being sleepy didn’t prevent me from being excited to get my math test back.

  The next morning at school, I could hardly wait. In just a short time I would finally have that big red A and maybe even a smiley face at the top of my paper. I would finally get a Jolly Rancher, maybe even a red one.

  What was weird, though, was that when I got the test back, I didn’t feel excited anymore. I felt sad. Even though there was a big red A and a smiley face. Even though I got the Jolly Rancher. Even though the Jolly Rancher was red.

  “Well, Aleca,” Mrs. Floberg said, “I suppose you decided to study for once. You received the highest grade in the class.”