“I rode my bike,” I said, suddenly realizing how stupid that was. I thought it best not to tell her I did it at midnight.
“I’m coming,” she said, ready to hang up the phone.
“No, wait!” I exclaimed. “Mom, it’s Atticus’s birthday party and I can’t let him know I’m here. Could you come after? Please. Pop-pop snuck me upstairs. I promise I won’t move.”
It was really quiet on the phone while she was thinking about it.
“Please, Mom,” I said again.
I heard her blow her nose. “Okay,” she said. “We will be talking about this later.”
“I know.”
“Call me when the party’s over,” she said.
“I promise,” I said, then said good-bye and hung up the phone.
Then I pulled up a chair and started watching Atticus’s birthday party. For a while it was almost like I was at the movies. I ate my party snacks and watched the other fifth graders arrive. It seemed like all of Ms. Smith’s fifth-grade class was there. It was like no one remembered Atticus’s secret. I was glad. That made me feel better.
Nobody saw me staring down at them. I was completely invisible to them. I heard Granny and Mrs. Brightwell come inside to the kitchen every now and then, but nobody came upstairs. It was my own private show.
I watched the scavenger hunt. We had done that last year. Mrs. Brightwell gave everyone maps and they got to go find stuff like rubber swords and glow sticks in hidden places outside. Then there was a three-legged race across the front yard. Me and Atticus had won last year. This year, Atticus came in third with Adam, his new partner.
After that, it was time for lunch. Everybody sat at the long tables that Pop-pop had put out. There were hot dogs and hamburgers and potato chips and baked beans. I knew Atticus’s hamburger was really a veggie burger. While he was eating, I saw him grab one potato chip after another and slip them under the table. I imagined Charlie happily eating every one of them.
Then there was birthday cake (Atticus’s favorite was chocolate with white icing) and the birthday song. I sang along quietly when Mrs. Brightwell came out of the kitchen carrying the lit-up cake. I watched Atticus make a wish and blow out the candles. I made a wish, too.
After lunch, the adults started cleaning up while all the kids broke off into different groups to play. Charlie was acting crazy, trying to eat up all the fallen hamburgers and hot dogs before Mrs. Brightwell got them in the garbage can. I watched Atticus walk down the hill toward the front pasture with Kevin and Adam. He seemed to be having a good birthday. He didn’t seem to be missing me at all.
It wouldn’t be long now. The party would be over. My mother would pick me up, and with luck, Atticus would never even know I had been there. I looked at the four-leaf clover Pop-pop had given me. I had carefully put it on the windowsill after I called my mom. Four-leaf clovers were supposed to be lucky but maybe, I was starting to decide, there was no such thing as luck.
But …
As luck would have it, I looked up at that very moment. I saw Atticus way down the hill, in front of the gate to the front pasture. He was pointing at Frank the bull. Whatever Atticus was saying, it looked like Kevin and Adam thought it was a fantastic idea.
I knew, even from this distance, that it was not fantastic. I knew Atticus and I knew what he was thinking about doing. I knew those boys were just stupid enough to let him.
And just like that, Atticus was climbing over the fence. He was walking through the pasture toward Frank the bull. Kevin and Adam were cheering him all the way.
There was no time to think. I started to run. I ran down the stairs and out the front door, right into the open. As I flew past Mrs. Brightwell, I saw her head turn and thought I heard her call my name. There was no time to stop, though. No time to tell adults what was happening. There was only time to run.
I’d never gone down the driveway so fast before. My eyes were on Atticus the whole time. He was getting closer and closer to Frank. I could see that he was talking to him.
Didn’t Atticus know that he was not like his grandfather? Didn’t he know that this was going to end badly?
Apparently not, because Atticus walked right up to Frank and reached out to pet him. Frank’s head was down. He was eating grass. He wasn’t paying any attention to Atticus until he touched him—right on the forehead.
Frank’s head roared up. The big bull snorted. He pawed the ground then lurched forward. Frank butted Atticus right in the stomach.
And Atticus went flying.
I was over the fence by then. I was past Kevin and Adam before they knew what was happening. I was on my way to Atticus, but so was Frank. And there was no doubt in my mind—Frank was going to get there first.
I didn’t know what to do. Atticus wasn’t my best friend anymore so I didn’t have my Infinity Year power. I couldn’t save him.
But then I had a crazy thought. What if my Infinity Year wasn’t over? Just because Atticus was mad at me didn’t mean we weren’t best friends anymore. He was still my best friend. No matter what he thought.
I remembered the zoo and how Toby the gorilla seemed to hear me when I talked to him with my mind. I remembered how M had heard my thoughts, too. And then I felt it. At first, deep inside, like those other times, and then, like a wave cresting and breaking in the ocean, unstoppable and undeniable, I felt my Infinity Year power sweep through me. Huge, powerful, and not about to let my best friend get hurt by some dumb bull.
Frank had reached Atticus now. He was starting to paw at him.
“FRANK!” I yelled.
M had heard me. Toby had heard me. And I knew, I just knew, that Frank the bull was going to hear me, too. Once I stopped yelling like an idiot and used my power correctly.
With every ounce of Infinity Year mind-talk power that I had, I told Frank, Stop it right now! You turn around and look at me!
And amazingly, Frank did. Without me saying a word, that bull just turned around and looked my way.
Frank was even bigger than Toby and there were no bars between us. We just stood there staring at each other. Frank was breathing real hard through his big nostrils. I was breathing real hard through my little ones. I saw Atticus on the ground on the other side of Frank. He wasn’t moving.
I looked toward the fence and saw Adam’s and Kevin’s shocked faces. Behind them, Mrs. Brightwell was running down the driveway. She would get to Atticus. She would make sure he was okay. I just had to get that darn bull away from him.
Frank lowered his head and started beating the ground with one of his hooves.
Oh no, I thought. I looked behind me.
I couldn’t go back the way I came. Mrs. Brightwell was coming through the gate to rescue Atticus. I had to go the other way—the long way across the pasture to the fence on the other side. It was a football field long. And I knew I wasn’t going to be fast enough.
But I didn’t care.
“Come on, Frank!” I yelled (this time with my mind and my mouth), and started running.
The grass was tall and it slapped at my legs, but I didn’t really feel it. I looked back. Frank had taken the bait. He was following me. Good.
Or bad. Because Frank was really fast, and he was starting to charge down the field after me. He looked mad, too. I ran faster, but every time I looked back, he was getting closer. I realized I was not going to make it to the fence in time.
I was not going to outrun Frank the bull.
Frank the bull was going to outrun me.
I don’t know if it was because of the four-leaf clover on the windowsill or Atticus’s acorn in my pocket, but Luck finally showed his face to me. After all this time. And wouldn’t you know it, he looked just like Charlie the dog.
From out of nowhere, that dog darted right between me and that bull. Charlie distracted Frank just long enough for me to make it to the fence. Even though my legs felt full of jelly, I climbed up to the top and looked back just in time to see Atticus being carried out of the pasture.
&
nbsp; And just in time to see Frank the bull look at me—like he knew he just got beat by a ten-year-old girl.
I smiled.
Then I fell.
That was the last thing I remembered.
SEVENTEEN
Atticus had a concussion and two broken ribs. That stupid boy was going to live.
The doctors were making him stay in the hospital for the rest of the weekend. Mom said they liked to keep an eye on people with head injuries and Atticus had landed on his head. I had landed on my head, too, when I fell off the fence, but I felt just fine. My mom drove me to the hospital anyway—just to be on the safe side.
Turns out my head was okay. But my heart was still hurting. I asked my mom if we could wait to see Atticus.
We sat in the waiting room for about an hour. I looked at magazines and started picking at the scab that was forming around my elbow. Evidently, I fell on my head and my elbow. It was funny how I didn’t remember falling off the fence. I do remember Charlie licking me, though. And Pop-pop picking me up and carrying me to the farmhouse.
Mrs. Brightwell came into the waiting room to give us an update on Atticus’s condition. He was sore and it hurt him to cough, but he was going to be fine. My mom left to get them some coffee but Mrs. Brightwell didn’t go anywhere. She stayed right there with me.
That was weird.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. I watched as she sat down in one of the waiting room chairs across from me.
“I want to thank you for today,” she said. “I don’t know how you showed up when you did, but you saved my boy. That bull could have killed him. I owe you, Avalon.”
“That’s okay,” I said. She had never talked to me like this before. It was all very strange.
“Avalon, I have to admit something to you,” she said. “I need to fess up.” She paused before continuing. “When you and Atticus had your falling-out, I was actually relieved. I was. I thought he needed more friends. I thought he needed different friends. I thought that you weren’t good for him.”
“I know,” I said.
She looked surprised, like she didn’t expect me to say that. Or to know that. But I did.
“It’s always scared me, how you sometimes act before you think,” she continued. “I know it can get you in trouble. And I was afraid it would get Atticus in trouble, too.” Mrs. Brightwell cleared her throat, like maybe she was getting choked up, then said, “But here’s the thing, Avalon. You didn’t think about what you did today. You just did it. You ran in front of that bull without thinking about yourself. You were just going to save Atticus—no matter what happened. And in this case, I’m really glad you did.”
After all this time, I finally knew why she didn’t like me.
“But—” she added.
Uh-oh.
“I have to tell you I did something that I am now very ashamed of. And I hope you will forgive me.” Mrs. Brightwell reached in her purse and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to me. It had my name on it.
It was my invitation to Atticus’s birthday party. “I didn’t mail it,” she said. “Atticus doesn’t know. He would be furious with me. And he should be.”
I opened the invitation and looked at it. I realized I had been invited to his birthday party all along. There was a note in there, too. I pulled it out and started to read.
Dear Avie,
It’s me. Atticus. Caroline told me what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault. It just freaked me out and I got really mad.
Please come to my birthday party. It will be fun.
If you say yes, I will know you want to speak to me again. So please say yes!
I’m sorry.
Will you still be my best friend?
From,
your best friend,
Atticus
My heart felt much better.
“Today, I realized something, Avalon,” Mrs. Brightwell said. “I want Atticus to have lots of friends in his life. But one of them should always be you. He needs you.”
I couldn’t help but smile a little.
“And I didn’t see any of those boys running in there to save him,” she said, smiling back at me. “I’m so sorry. I just worry about him too much, I guess.”
I was suddenly feeling bolder, like I could ask her anything. So I did. “Why do you worry about him all the time?” I asked.
She looked at me. I could tell she didn’t have a good answer. “Because Atticus is the best person I know,” I said. “How could you worry about somebody like that? He’ll always be okay. And if he’s not, he’ll have you and me and Caroline to make sure of it.” I looked at her real hard—the way Pop-pop had looked at me—and said, “Atticus is Atticus, Mrs. Brightwell. Nobody can ever change that.”
She grabbed a tissue out of her handbag and wiped one of her eyes. I heard her sniff just like her son. Finally, she said, “You want to come see him?”
We walked into Atticus’s hospital room together. He had a bandage around his ribs and a big black bruise under his eye. I walked over to the bed.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for saving my life.”
“Anytime. You would have done the same for me.”
“Yeah. I would have,” he said. Then Atticus grinned at me—for the first time in two whole months.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the envelope in my hand. I held up the birthday invitation.
“Oh, yeah. It’s your birthday invitation. Can you believe I only got it today? That’s why I was so late for your party.” I was such a good liar sometimes. I looked at Mrs. Brightwell. I could tell she wanted to shake her head at me, but she only smiled. “I think I’ll go find your mom and that coffee,” she said. “Give you two a chance to catch up.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Atticus said.
“Thanks, Mrs. Brightwell,” I added.
Mrs. Brightwell left the room and it got awfully quiet.
“I’m so sorry, Atticus,” I finally said.
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Caroline told me everything. Did you read my letter?” he asked.
I nodded.
“I was just so embarrassed and freaked out,” he said. “I kind of lost it.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I would have been mad, too.”
“Yeah, but it all worked out.”
“What do you mean?”
“It turns out I wasn’t the only one. There are a few of us fifth-grade bed wetters and we kind of made a club.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Cool,” I said. “So who’s in the club?”
Atticus raised his eyebrow at me. “Like I’m going to tell you that?” he said, and grinned. “But it’s gotten better, though. Mom and I sort of came to a truce about it. And that helped. Or maybe it was just my Infinity Year that cured me.”
He smiled at me and I smiled back. For a moment, we settled in to being best friends again.
Then I said, “I think I got mine. You know—my Infinity Year power. Right there in the pasture.”
Atticus beamed. “I know you did. Mom said you ran faster than Frank. She said she couldn’t believe that you could run that fast.” He tried to lean forward, but I could tell it hurt his ribs. “Remember when you said you didn’t want your power to be running fast or anything like that?”
“When did I say that?”
“I don’t know. You said it, though.”
“Well, I guess I changed my mind,” I said. “But it wasn’t just the running.”
“What was it, then?”
“I spoke to Frank. With my mind.”
Atticus looked totally intrigued.
“I told him to follow me, to leave you alone. And he listened to me. And I didn’t say a word.”
“Whoa,” Atticus said. “That’s a great power!”
“I know. Right?” Then something occurred to me. “Did you dream about petting Frank b
efore you really did it?”
“How’d you know?”
“Because that’s the kind of dumb dream that would get you into this mess,” I said. “What happened in the dream anyway?”
“I don’t know. I woke up before I actually reached him.”
I laughed. That was the stupidest thing I ever heard. It was probably a good thing Atticus’s Infinity Year was over. Before one of his dreams actually killed him.
“That’s quite a shiner, boy.” I turned around and saw Pop-pop standing at the end of Atticus’s bed.
“Pop-pop!” Atticus said.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Atticus.
“I’m okay,” Atticus said.
Then he looked at me. “And how about you, our little hero?”
I blushed. “I’m okay, too.”
“Well, just checking to be sure you both are in one piece,” he said. “You had me a little worried this afternoon.”
Atticus and I looked at each other and smiled. Then Atticus’s eyes got real wide. “Pop-pop!” he exclaimed. “Can you tell us now?”
It took me less than a second to understand what he meant. “Yes, please!” I chimed in. “We want to know about your Infinity Year.”
Pop-pop grinned. “Huh,” he said. “You want to hear about my magical power.”
“Come on,” Atticus cried. “I’m eleven. You can tell me now.”
Pop-pop looked at me. “Avalon’s still ten. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.
“Please!” I said. “Please!”
“All right, then. Today I will make an exception,” he said, and looked behind him to be sure nobody else was listening.
“Okay,” he said. “My magical power wasn’t like my grandpa’s. Grandpa Daniel could make himself invisible for most of his tenth year. Being invisible sounded pretty neat to me when I was ten.”
“Me too,” I said quietly.
“But no, mine was a onetime thing. My best friend, Jimmy, and I were at the lake. It was a spring day, much like today was. We were having fun—like boys will do. There were a bunch of us there. Jimmy and I decided to be hotshots, so we climbed up on some high rocks above the other boys. We were going to jump off into the water. Jimmy jumped first. But instead of jumping, dumb Jimmy thought he should dive in. So he did.
The Infinity Year of Avalon James Page 14
