Aleca Zamm Fools Them All

by Ginger Rue

  CONTENTS

  1

  Ford Kimble Knows Almost Everything

  2

  Guess What Ford Can Do

  3

  We’ll Cross That Bridge When We Come to It (I Hope)

  4

  I Wish I Could’ve Enjoyed That Burn Longer

  5

  I Don’t Think So Great under Pressure

  6

  Of All the Celebrities in the World, I Pick This One

  7

  Brett Lasseter Is Going to Get His One Day, but I Can’t Wait That Long

  8

  It’s Not Stealing If It’s for a Good Cause

  9

  The Most Majestic Bridge I Never Saw

  10

  Number One Fan

  11

  I’m Pretty Sure Everyone Secretly Still Likes the Whoop-Dee-Doos

  12

  Aunt Zephyr’s Wonky Wonder-ing

  13

  Someone Is on Our Roof, and It Isn’t Santa

  14

  I’ve Never Been This Excited about Research in My Whole Life

  15

  “Walking on Air” Isn’t Just an Expression

  16

  A Short Walk on a Long Bridge

  17

  Saving Aunt Zephyr from the Soaps

  ‘Aleca Zamm Travels Through Time’ Excerpt

  About the Author

  For Mother

  1

  Ford Kimble Knows Almost Everything

  It was early Tuesday morning, a good twenty minutes before the first bell. That is just way too early to be at school, especially when you don’t want to be there anyway. But my reason for being early was that Ford Kimble was supposed to show up at any minute.

  At least I hoped so.

  I sat on the third swing from the left—my lucky swing—on the school playground. The reason it is my lucky swing is because one time in first grade a mean girl pushed me off it so that she could have it. And then, when she tried to get on, she missed and lost her balance and fell right onto her booty. If that is not a lucky swing, then I don’t know what is!

  Anyway, back to Ford.

  I’d slipped a note into his desk the morning before. It told him to meet me here so we could talk about what had happened at my birthday party last Friday night, when I’d stopped time at the skating rink and Ford hadn’t frozen along with everyone else. It’s this thing I can do just by speaking my name. I just say, “Aleca Zamm!” and then it’s like everything turns into a photograph—everything stops happening. Well, except for me. And except for Aunt Zephyr. And also except for Ford Kimble, apparently, which was how Aunt Zephyr and I had realized that we weren’t the only ones, that Ford Kimble must be a Wonder too. Now all I needed to do was find out what Ford knew.

  I wasn’t sure, though, how much help Ford would be. He was way smart, but from the small amount of time I’d spent with him at the skating rink, he seemed like he would rather talk about how machinery works or about math facts. And let’s just say that math facts aren’t exactly my specialty. So I was worried that Ford and I wouldn’t have a lot in common. But Aunt Zephyr had told me that just because someone is wired differently from how you are doesn’t mean that they are wired wrong. And if anybody ought to believe that, it’s us Wonders.

  Besides, I had to try to talk to Ford. Chances were that he knew a lot about Wonders, just like he knew a lot about nearly everything else. After all, he was the only kid I had ever heard of who’d skipped two grades at once, which is pretty impressive. (I get really proud of myself just for skipping two checkers at once, and grades in school are way harder to skip than checkers.) Ford was only seven and already in the third grade. Also he was the only person I knew of who had become a Wonder before the age of ten. Everyone in my family who’d ever been a Wonder hadn’t started Wonder-ing until they were ten, just like me. Aunt Zephyr suggested that Ford might be an extra special Wonder just like he was an extra special smarty-pants. And I wanted to know what he knew.

  “Artzy Sneakers,” a voice muttered behind me. “With patented comfort design, Artzy is tops in durability and fashion.”

  That was another thing Ford liked to do—recite commercials. He had a memory where he could hear something once and then say it exactly the same, word for word. He’d told us about it at the skating rink.

  “Ford, you made it!” I said. “Did your parents mind bringing you early?”

  “Parents of seven-year-old boys ask lots of questions,” Ford said. “Also I don’t like this. I had to get up at 6:05 instead of 6:28, and I did not have time to read this morning. But my parents were glad that I have a new friend, so they said I should deviate today.”

  “Does ‘deviate’ mean the same thing as ‘throw caution to the wind’?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Ford told me.

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re here,” I added. “Grab a swing.” Ford took the swing to the right of mine. He was so small that his feet didn’t touch the ground.

  Then Ford offered this information: “Continuous centripetal force and acceleration.”

  “What?”

  “In accordance with Newton’s first law of motion,” he announced, “that is how swings work.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “Let’s get down to business. The first day I stopped time, at school on my tenth birthday”—I reminded him of the date—“you saw everything stop, but you didn’t stop?”

  “Correct,” Ford said. “Everything became still and quiet.”

  “Then you must be a Wonder,” I explained. “Because if you weren’t, you would have been frozen when time stopped, just like everybody else. Only Wonders are immune to other Wonders. Aunt Zephyr said so. Did you notice anything unusual? I mean, other than time being stopped?”

  “No,” said Ford.

  “It was pretty cool, though, right?” I asked. “Did you see Wendell the Hamster in the first-grade classroom? He was running in midair on his wheel!”

  “No,” mumbled Ford. He was looking at the ground, not at me, while he spoke. “I crawled into the coat cubby and held my smooth stone. I stayed in the cubby until I heard noise again.” He started digging into his pocket. “Have I showed you my smooth stone? You can even hold it if you want to.”

  “No, thanks, Ford,” I answered. “Listen, do you mean to tell me that time stopped and all you did about it was hide in the coat cubby?” I couldn’t believe it. That was the last thing I would have done. “Didn’t you even take the opportunity to . . . I don’t know . . . cheat on a test or something?”

  “I don’t have to cheat on tests,” Ford said. “Tests are easy.”

  “Right,” I replied. “For you, maybe. But didn’t you, like, I don’t know . . . pour glue into a mean kid’s hair or put a bug into a bully’s mouth? Because that would be perfectly understandable and I wouldn’t, like, judge you for it or anything.” I decided not to mention that those were things I had done.

  “I like to hold my smooth stone when my routine changes,” Ford insisted. “It feels soothing.”

  “Oh, okay,” I said. Then I shifted in my swing, because all of a sudden I felt kind of uncomfortable, like maybe the pranks I had pulled while time had been stopped hadn’t been something anybody else would do.

  “But the next day, when I stopped time again in the lunchroom, you must have done some exploring. That’s how you saw me.”

  Ford wasn’t looking at me. He was staring into a tree. “Did you know that birds are marvels of engineering?” he asked. “Even if you and I had wings, we could not fly like birds do. We are not properly engineered for it.”

  “That’s very interesting,” I assured him. “But what else do you know about Wonders?”

  “I kno
w lots of things.” Ford almost laughed. “But not about that.”

  I was getting impatient. “Come on, Ford. You know all about what I can do, but what about you? You must have some Wonder ability, or you would be frozen like everyone else when I stop time. So what’s your thing? What can you do?”

  “I don’t know,” began Ford. “It’s . . . hazy.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m not entirely sure I can actually do anything,” he replied. “I have a funny thing, but only when you stop time. Not on my own.”

  “What do you mean, a funny thing? Funny like ha-ha funny, or funny like what’s-that-weird-smell funny?”

  “Not ha-ha. And not smells,” he answered. “I see things.”

  “What things?”

  “Oh, all sorts of things. But all jumbled up.”

  I was becoming kind of frustrated, because getting the answers I needed was like trying to pull three-year-old smooshed bubble gum out of your soccer cleats. “Like what?”

  “I didn’t see very much the first time. Probably because I was hiding in the coat cubby because I felt scared.”

  “The first time?” I asked. “You mean it never happened before the first time I stopped time?”

  “Never before.”

  “And never after?”

  “Only when you stop time,” he said. “Never on my own.”

  Wowee, that was interesting. I couldn’t wait to tell Aunt Zephyr about it. “Hmmm. So what was your funny thing? What did you do?”

  “I saw a desk next to Walter Greenley. It wasn’t like the desks we have now. It was an old-fashioned desk, smaller. Wood and cast iron. I didn’t try to touch it, but I saw it. Then, when I came out of the coat cubby, the desk was gone. I asked Walter about it, but he told me I was a weirdo. Walter always says that about me.”

  I didn’t know Walter Greenley, but it sounded like he needed a time-out. Anyway, I tried to focus on Ford and what he could do. Seeing an old desk didn’t sound like much of a power. “Did you see anything else?”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “The other times when you stopped time, there were people who looked . . . different.”

  “Different how?”

  “Do you know my teacher, Mrs. Young?”

  “Old Mrs. Young? Sure.” Everyone knew old Mrs. Young. She was older than most people’s grandmas and had been teaching at our school since some of our parents had been students there.

  “Well, once, when time was stopped, I looked at Mrs. Young. There was a woman standing beside her. A young woman. And quite beautiful. Her hair was in a funny style, all curled under at the ends and tall on top. And that made me think, ‘Try Emerge Skin Care and watch a younger you emerge overnight. Visit our website to learn how you too can start looking younger today!’ ”

  I ignored the advertisement and focused on the information. “So you’re telling me that you saw an oddly dressed stranger next to old Mrs. Young?”

  “Oh, no,” argued Ford. “Not at all. It was Mrs. Young. But not old Mrs. Young. This was young Mrs. Young.”

  2

  Guess What Ford Can Do

  Ford pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. Now maybe we were getting somewhere!

  “This is the woman I saw,” he revealed, holding out a copy of a photograph. “I copied this from an old school yearbook in the library. This is Mrs. Young in her first year of teaching here. And that is the woman I saw in my classroom.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I said.

  Ford told me, “There’s more.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “Go on. What else have you seen? Did you see anything the night of my party?”

  “Oh yes,” he insisted. “I saw the deejay. Next to the deejay. Except the real deejay is twenty-two years old. I know this because I looked at his driver’s license when you stopped time. I needed to know his age because there was another deejay standing next to him. But this deejay was not twenty-two. This deejay was my dad’s age. He had a potbelly and a large bald spot.”

  I gasped. “Ford, are you trying to tell me that you see the past and the future?”

  Ford sighed. “No. I wouldn’t say I’ve seen either the past or the future entirely. I see only parts of the past and future, and only when you’ve stopped time. And whatever I see, it’s all out of context. And I can’t control what I see. Everything is all jumbled up.”

  “How strange,” I declared. I could hardly wrap my brain around it. Of all the possible abilities to have, why this? What in the world would anyone be able to do with it? And why would his ability be tied to mine? “I’ll have to report all this to Aunt Zephyr immediately.”

  “Yes,” Ford replied. The bird he had been watching in the tree was now sitting on a power line. “We can’t do that, either,” he pondered. “Sit on wires, I mean.”

  “Because of the engineering,” I confirmed.

  “Yes.”

  I looked at the bird for a minute. Then I exclaimed, “Man, oh, man! You sure have an interesting Wonder ability! I thought stopping time was odd, or teleporting. But this takes the cake! This is even stranger than talking to animals or reading people’s minds.”

  “You can do all that too?” Ford asked. Then I had to tell him about how Aunt Zephyr could teleport and about how my grandpa could talk to animals and about how my great-uncle Zander could read minds. Ford was pretty impressed. “Is everyone in your family a Wonder?” he asked.

  “No,” I told him. “My sister and parents are Duds. Aunt Zephyr says it can’t be helped.” Then I had to explain to him what a Dud was. “A Dud is a regular person who isn’t a Wonder. It isn’t an insult; it’s just a fact. Aunt Zephyr says they just don’t have the spark.”

  “Having a spark is kind of fun except when it isn’t,” Ford said. I knew exactly what he meant. He meant that it’s neat to be special but it’s sad that other people don’t understand. Like how I couldn’t tell my cool time-stopping secret to anyone, including my bestie, Maria.

  “Well, is that everything?” I inquired. “Is there anything you haven’t told me about?”

  “There is one thing,” he said. “I saw it that day when you were in the lunchroom.” Ford shuddered. “It was . . . unnerving.”

  3

  We’ll Cross That Bridge When We Come to It (I Hope)

  “Come on, spill it,” I insisted. “What did you see while I was in the lunchroom?”

  “As you know, I was walking around outside,” Ford replied. “I was hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever was responsible for what was happening. Or ‘not happening’ maybe is the better way to say it. I looked in the lunchroom window and saw what you were doing, but then I saw you see me. So I ran away. I ran around to the back of the school, and there it was.”

  “What?” I could only imagine what Ford must have seen. If he saw things out of their proper time, it could have been something from the past, like a T. rex . . . or something from the future, like a spaceship!

  “The bridge,” Ford answered.

  “Bridge?” I asked. What was so exciting about a bridge? I see bridges all the time. I’ve even walked or driven over a bunch of them.

  “Yes,” Ford told me. “It was beautiful. A suspension bridge with trusses.” I guess I looked confused, because Ford showed me a picture he’d drawn in his notebook. It was a really pretty bridge, and I had to hand it to him, he was a good artist.

  “Where is it, again? I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Neither had I,” Ford assured me. “And I’ve never seen it since.”

  “Wait,” I started. “You’re telling me that when time stopped, you saw a bridge that isn’t there anymore, that disappeared when time started again?”

  “Exactly,” Ford replied.

  I sat thinking for a moment. Then I started swinging. I figured swinging might help me think better, but even a good swing doesn’t explain something like that.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense,” I responded.

  “Like stoppin
g time,” Ford said. “Or teleporting.”

  “Or talking to animals or reading minds,” I agreed. “I see what you mean.”

  “It was a marvelous bridge,” Ford said. “I wish you could’ve seen it.”

  “Where did it lead to?” I asked.

  Ford laughed. “How should I know?”

  “What do you mean? Didn’t you walk across it?”

  “Walk across it?” Ford repeated.

  “You mean you didn’t even explore it?”

  Ford replied, “I’m seven. I can’t even cross the street without holding my mother’s hand. And you’re suggesting I should have walked across a bridge that suddenly appeared out of nowhere?”

  “Duh!” I exclaimed. “If I saw a bridge appear out of nowhere, the first thing I would do is walk across it. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Someone with common sense,” Ford replied.

  “Someone who’s a big chicken,” I said. Though I shouldn’t have. I guess because Ford had made a crack, I thought I could make one back. I’d forgotten for a second that he was only seven.

  “I am not a chicken!” argued Ford. His eyes started to water. Oh, great, Aleca, I thought. You’ve made the little Wonder cry!

  “I’m sorry, Ford,” I consoled him. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

  “It’s not nice to call names,” Ford said, sniffing. “It damages the emotions.”

  “I said I was sorry,” I begged. “I wouldn’t damage your emotions on purpose.”

  “I forgive you,” Ford mumbled. He stopped sniffling immediately, like it had all happened a long time ago.

  “Thanks,” I replied. “But next time if you see a bridge, I think you should cross it. That’s what bridges are for.”

  Ford looked at me and squinched his face up.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Why’re you looking at me all funny?”

  “I’m studying you,” Ford said. “I’m trying to decide if you’re really brave or if you just have poor judgment.”

  “How about this?” I proposed. “Next time you see a bridge, I’ll cross it with you. You can hold my hand.”

  Ford thought about that for a minute. “Maybe,” he answered. “But I doubt I’ll be seeing any more bridges anyway.”