Ellie Makes Her Move Read online

  It definitely worked. I looked through it, and I could see half the town. And it swiveled so I could see even more. There was a dial I could turn to zoom in and make things bigger.

  We’d driven around a lot, so I recognized some buildings—the library, Town Hall, the medical center. My stupid school. I could see Main Street, with its shops and people moving on the sidewalk. Beyond that, a nice apartment building with a fancy entrance and balconies.

  There was one place I hadn’t noticed before. It was a big modern building, bright blue and yellow, and I could make out the words LAKESIDE COMMUNITY CENTER over the entrance. And just beside it, there was an outdoor swimming pool. I could even see people splashing around in the sunshine.

  “Ellie! Dinner’s ready!”

  Reluctantly, I stepped back from the telescope. And I shivered. The heating wasn’t great in this house, but it was going to be fixed. And very soon, I hoped. It was the middle of winter, for crying out loud.

  And that was when I suddenly realized that what I’d just seen through the telescope was crazy and impossible. This was January, too cold for swimming outdoors, even if the pool was heated. Not to mention the fact that it was twilight—there was no sunshine. I shivered harder.

  “Ellie!”

  Maybe it was just my imagination, I thought as I went downstairs. Summer was my favorite season, and I used to love hanging out at the public pool back in Brookdale. Wishful thinking, that’s all it was.

  My parents eyed me anxiously as I approached the table, and I tried to put on a more cheerful face. It became easier when I saw dinner.

  “Mm, meat loaf,” I said. “And mac and cheese? All my favorites!” Now I felt really bad for the way I’d been behaving, and I decided to make a real effort.

  “Do you think you’ll get that job, Mom?” I asked, settling into my chair.

  “I hope so. It’s a regional newspaper that covers all the towns in this area, so it should be pretty lively. You’ve seen it, we started having it delivered when we moved here.”

  I nodded. Then I turned to my father. “So this planning committee you’re consulting for—what do they plan?”

  “Well, the biggest thing they’re working on is the community center…”

  “Yeah, it looks nice.”

  His eyebrows went up. “How do you know that?”

  “I saw it.” I took a big bite of meat loaf.

  “You mean you saw the architect’s drawing in the newspaper?” he asked.

  “No, I saw the community center,” I replied. “From the window upstairs.”

  My father smiled. “That’s not possible, kiddo. It hasn’t been built yet. But I appreciate your show of interest.”

  I swallowed, hard. “Is—is there a swimming pool in Lakeside?”

  “Not a public one, no,” Dad said. “But there’s going to be one outside the new community center.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  I must have looked a little weird. I sure felt a little weird. Had I just seen the future through the telescope? My mother reached across the table and took my hand. “Give Lakeside a chance, honey. You’ll get involved, you’ll make new friends. You really might love it here.”

  I highly doubted that, but after this conversation, there definitely was something that interested me about Lakeside. I was itching to get back upstairs, but I tried not to rush through dinner. The food was too good, and besides, I had to wait for everyone to finish so I could clear the table, my usual job.

  “Do you have homework?” Mom asked when she saw that my plate was empty.

  I nodded. “Yeah, lots.”

  “Then why don’t you go ahead and get started. We’ll clear up and do the dishes.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said, and I took off. But I didn’t go to my room to start homework. I headed back up to the turret.

  Night had fallen, but fortunately, there were enough streetlights on in Lakeside that I could still see the town through the telescope. I pointed it in the direction where I’d seen the blue-and-yellow complex with the sparkling swimming pool. But all I saw this time was an old building with broken windows.

  Was I looking in the wrong direction? I swiveled the telescope and moved it slowly. I squinted. Then I switched eyes. That made no difference.

  I sighed. Maybe I did see the architect’s drawing in the newspaper, and I’d just imagined it there, in real life. Like Mom said, we had the paper delivered every day.

  But I couldn’t remember ever actually looking at it.

  I looked through the telescope again, one more time. No community center, no pool. But I did see something else.

  Alyssa-the-goth-girl.

  On a broomstick.

  Flying over the town.

  IT MUST HAVE BEEN A DREAM. THAT WAS what I kept telling myself the next morning. I even mentally lectured my reflection in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

  Ellie Marks, it never happened. You didn’t see that community center, and you certainly didn’t see Alyssa on a broomstick. It was a dream. It wasn’t real because it couldn’t be real.

  Before I left for school, I went back up to the turret and looked through the telescope again. All I saw was Lakeside the way it really was—no community center. And no goth girl on a broomstick. Which made perfectly good sense, because the community center hadn’t been built yet, and there is no such thing as a witch.

  Only I couldn’t really convince myself, because it all happened before I went to bed. Unless all of yesterday was a dream, including the meat loaf and the mac and cheese. Or had I suddenly developed some sort of wild and crazy fantasy life?

  Whatever was going on, I had to admit, I was now kind of curious about Alyssa. I didn’t see her at school until English class, second period. I got there early, but she didn’t arrive until the bell was already ringing, so I had no chance to speak to her.

  She wasn’t wearing the same black skirt and top she’d had on the day before. This time, it was a dress that looked like a long T-shirt that fell below her knees. But it was black, and she wore it with black tights and black boots, so it was the same look. With that long black hair and her black-rimmed eyes, she didn’t need a pointy hat to look like a witch.

  When the bell stopped ringing, Ms. Gonzalez took attendance. I listened carefully and caught Alyssa’s last name: Parker.

  Then the teacher rose from behind her desk.

  “Good morning, everyone. I’ve finished grading the book reports you turned in on Friday, and…” She stopped. “Kiara?”

  There was no response.

  “Kiara Douglas!”

  The girl sitting in front of me looked up from her tablet.

  “Put that away, right now!” Ms. Gonzalez ordered.

  The girl closed her tablet and stuck it into the backpack that was hanging from her chair.

  The teacher looked seriously annoyed. “I’ve told you before, I’ve told all of you, there will be no playing with phones or electronic devices in this class. And Kiara, if I see that again, I’m confiscating it. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Ms. Gonzalez,” Kiara said.

  “As I was saying, I’ve graded your book reports. I must admit, I was dismayed to see so many reports on Of Mice and Men and The Old Man and the Sea. Both are very fine works of literature, of course. But they are also the shortest books on the reading list, and I think some of you may have chosen them for that reason alone.”

  I almost smiled. My English teacher back home had said exactly the same thing last term. I couldn’t understand why people would do that. When I was reading a good book, it wanted it to last as long as possible.

  Ms. Gonzalez continued. “Now, because I think we all can benefit from example, I’d like to read aloud from the best book report I received. This report is not just a summary, it’s an actual discussion. The report is on One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. And by the way, editions of this book usually run over four hundred pages long.”

  She paused, as if expecting gasps of
admiration. But no one looked particularly interested.

  “The report was written by Rachel Levin-Lopez.”

  That bit of information got some response. There was something that sounded like a snort from the back of the room. And there was something that sounded more like a whimper, which came from the girl with long, curly blond hair who I’d noticed sitting alone in the cafeteria yesterday. The blush that spread across her round face told me she must be Rachel Levin-Lopez.

  Ms. Gonzalez picked up the paper from her desk and began to read.

  “‘One Hundred Years of Solitude is the story of the Buendía family, who live in the fictional village of Macondo in Colombia, South America.’”

  As she went on, I was impressed. I’d never read this book, but Rachel Levin-Lopez made me want to. The story sounded like it had everything—romance, ups and downs, births, deaths, wars, and it covered more than a hundred years.

  As Ms. Gonzalez read, I occasionally glanced at Rachel, who was sinking down in her chair.

  When she finished reading, Ms. Gonzalez said, “Gabriel García Márquez is considered to be one of the most important writers from Latin America. He won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982.”

  A kid in the back raised his hand.

  “Yes, Jim?”

  “If he was from Latin America, how come he wrote a book in English?”

  “More specifically, Mr. Márquez was from Colombia, and the book was originally written in Spanish,” Ms. Gonzalez told him. “It was translated into English. Rachel, do you happen to know the original title?”

  Rachel’s response was just barely audible. “Cien años de soledad.”

  Ms. Gonzalez looked even more impressed. “Excellent, Rachel.”

  The girl sank even lower, practically disappearing under her desk.

  “Does anyone have another question or comment?” Ms. Gonzalez asked. No one did. I considered raising my hand to compliment Rachel, but I recalled my decision to be a loner, and loners didn’t call attention to themselves. But I still wanted her to know how much I liked the report, so as soon as class was over and the bell rang, I leaped up and walked toward her desk. Just as I got there, a couple of boys passed by and one of them spoke to her.

  “So are you a cat or a dog?” he asked.

  “Maybe she’s a gerbil,” his friend said.

  Rachel was frantically trying to stuff a book into her backpack and dropped it. I couldn’t resist, I had to say something.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked them.

  “Well, she’s teacher’s pet,” the first boy said. “I’m just wondering what kind of pet.”

  Laughing, the boys walked out of the room.

  Rachel’s face was beet red as she got up from her desk. I spoke quickly.

  “Hi, I just wanted to tell you—” But before I could get another word out, she scurried away.

  By now, Alyssa had left the room too, so I couldn’t speak to her either. But I caught up with her at lunch.

  She was sitting alone again when I emerged from the line with my tray, and this time I went directly to her table. I didn’t ask if it was okay—I just sat down. She didn’t look any friendlier than she had yesterday, but at least she didn’t object.

  I tried to start a conversation with a casual question.

  “What did you think of that book report?”

  She did her usual shrug.

  “I thought it was pretty good,” I went on. “Have you read that book?”

  She shook her head.

  I continued. “I didn’t have to write a report, because it was assigned before the holiday break and I wasn’t here. What did you report on?”

  “Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë.”

  “I never read it,” I confessed. “But I liked Jane Eyre.”

  “That’s by Charlotte Brontë.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m just saying, because they’re kind of connected. The authors being sisters.”

  “Wuthering Heights is better,” Alyssa said. “It’s spooky.”

  Alyssa did look like the kind of person who would appreciate spooky books. I didn’t say that, of course.

  Actually, I couldn’t think of anything else to say—at least, not anything that could lead to the vision of her that I’d had last night in the telescope. So we ate in silence.

  Then a girl stopped by the table.

  “Alyssa…”

  She looked up and she didn’t smile. “What?”

  The other girl, with light brown hair pulled back in a single braid, seemed a little nervous.

  “Um, I’m supposed to pick some stuff up for the folks this afternoon at the dry cleaner’s. But I forgot about a meeting I have with the yearbook committee after school. Do you think you could do it?” She began fiddling in her backpack. “I’ll give you the receipt.”

  “I can’t,” Alyssa said, without any apology or even looking sorry. “I’m doing something.”

  The girl bit her lip. “Oh. Okay. I guess I can miss one meeting. Well…see you.”

  Alyssa didn’t reply. When the girl was gone, I asked, “Is that your sister?”

  “Stepsister,” Alyssa said. “Madison. She’s in eighth grade.”

  “Oh.” I hesitated. “So, you’re busy after school today?”

  “No. I just said I was.”

  She must have seen my puzzled look, because she explained. “Last night I heard Madison say something on the phone to one of her friends, that sometimes she thinks I’m a total witch. She shouldn’t talk about me behind my back like that. So I don’t want to do her any favors.”

  I almost choked on a green bean. “She called you a witch?”

  She nodded. “Which a lot of people think I am.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Actually, I think I maybe could be a witch.”

  I spoke carefully. “You mean, like a Wiccan?”

  “Nah, I mean the old-fashioned, fairy-tale type. You know, put curses on people. Cast spells, ride on a broomstick.”

  When I finally managed to swallow the green bean, I spoke.

  “Well, if you’re free, I was just wondering if, maybe, you’d like to come over to my house this afternoon.”

  Alyssa frowned. “What for?”

  I formulated my words carefully. “Remember yesterday, when you said nothing makes sense here?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “I want to show you something that’s making me think this is true.”

  I DIDN’T KNOW IF ALYSSA WOULD ACTUALLY show up to meet me, but when I left school after the last class, I spotted her standing by the exit.

  “Hi,” I said.

  She didn’t return the greeting, but she fell into step alongside me as I started walking.

  “How was the rest of your day?” I asked.

  She shrugged. It would take around ten minutes to reach my house, so I had to get some kind of conversation going.

  “So, you just have the one sister?”

  “Stepsister,” she reminded me. I already knew from what she’d said at lunch that she wasn’t too crazy about Madison.

  “Sometimes I don’t get along with my sister either,” I told her. “Of course, it’s easier now.”

  “How come?” she asked.

  “Because she’s not home. She’s away at college.”

  “You’re lucky,” Alyssa said. “I wish all of mine were away from home.”

  “You’ve got more sisters?”

  “Siblings. A younger brother. And an older stepbrother.”

  From her tone, I got the feeling she wasn’t crazy about any of them.

  “You don’t get along with them either?”

  She did one of her shrugs. “I pretty much ignore them.” She didn’t sound like she wanted to pursue the topic. I tried to think of something else to ask her, but she surprised me by actually asking a question.

  “How come you moved to Lakeside?”

  I wasn’t all that sure I wanted to get into the w
hole story with her, or with anyone for that matter. I didn’t know how people would react to it, if they’d think my whole family was weird. Like I said before, I wasn’t planning to make any friends here, but I wasn’t up for out-and-out rejection either.

  But Alyssa was pretty weird herself, so I figured if I was going to let anyone in on what happened back in Brookdale, it might as well be her. So I told her the story. She paid attention too, and my tale of woe didn’t seem to shock her at all. Every now and then, she’d look at me and nod, like she understood and was actually interested.

  What was really amazing was when I finished the story and got her response. She didn’t offer any sympathy for my plight at all. Instead, her lips twitched into something that almost looked like a smile. That was a first.

  “Cool,” she said.

  I wanted to ask her what she meant by that. Did she think what my dad did was cool? Or was it cool that my friends rejected me? But we’d reached my house, and as I turned to go up the walkway, Alyssa froze.

  “You live here?”

  And I saw another expression on her face that I hadn’t seen before. Her eyes widened, her mouth was slightly open. She was stunned.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I walk by this house all the time,” Alyssa said. “It’s so…so…”

  She seemed to be at a loss for words. I suggested one.

  “Old?”

  “Magical,” she said. “Like a house in a fairy tale.” She pointed to the turret. “I can picture Rapunzel up there, letting her hair down so the prince can climb up to see her.”

  That remark took me by surprise. She didn’t seem like the kind of person who would still be interested in stories like that. On the other hand, like she said, there were witches in fairy tales, so maybe that explained it.

  “What’s your house like?” I asked.

  She made a face. “New.”

  “New can be nice,” I said. “At least the floors don’t make creaky noises.”

  “I like creaky noises,” she replied.

  We proceeded up the walkway, but before we reached the house the door opened and my mother came out.