“Come on in, honey. I want you to meet someone.”
The stranger from BUC is sitting in Mum's kitchen. Mum's favorite singer, Billie Holiday, is playing.
“It had to be you ⦔
Something smells delicious.
“Willa, this is Riley Truth. Riley, this is my good friend, Willa Havisham.”
Riley stands and shakes my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Willa. Sully's told me all about you. I'm sorry to hear of your loss.”
The oven buzzes. “Pie's ready, Mum says. “You're just in time, Willa.”
“Let me get that, princess,” Mr. Truth says. “You visit with your pretty young friend.” He pulls out a chair for me.
Princess? He calls Mum “princess”? Mum laughs. “Thank you kindly, Ry.”
There's a green album on the table. “Our high school yearbook,” Mum says. “Lord, didn't that bring back memories, Ry?”
“Surely did, Sully. Surely did.”
I open the book and begin turning pages. Every face is black. So different from Bramble. I wonder how Mum feels looking out at all that white every weekend? I wonder if she misses â¦
“She was my best friend,” Mum says, pointing to a beautiful girl with braids swooped into a band on the side of her head. “Remember Zenobia Portee, Riley?”
“Hmmm, hmmm,”
Riley says, “give me a second ⦠no ⦠Don't believe I even need a second,
hmmm, hmmm, hmmm,
ain't no man in the great state of South Carolina ever gonna forget Zenobia Portee.
Hmmm, hmmm,
was that girl a sight ⦔
“That's enough, old man,” Mum says with a laugh.
“Show me your picture, Mum.”
Mum flips back the pages. She points to a skinny girl with a mad look on her face. “Why didn't you smile?” I ask.
“Let's just say I didn't like the
attitude
of the photographer,” Mum says.
Riley gets a fit of laughing that ends in a fit of coughing. “Oh, Sully, you slay me, you do.”
On the way home, I pass by Hairs To You, and our hairdresser, Jo, comes out. “Willa, wait.” She puffs my curly side. “Nice. I like it. Can I take a picture?”
“Why?” I say with a laugh.
“For the stylists' album. Another girl just came in asking for âthe Willa'.”
“You're kidding.” I laugh.
“No, really,” Jo says, snapping a picture. “Everybody's asking for it.”
There's a sale sign in the window of Wickstrom's jewelry store. My birthday's next week. January 13. I've been hinting for a watch. I go in to take a look.
The next case over is necklaces. I spot the heart lockets. A silver one with a tiny gold bow on top catches my eye.
So pretty.
Then I see the one JFK bought for Ruby. I feel like a boxer punched my stomach. How could JFK do that to me?
Mr. Wickstrom sees me looking. “Would you like to try one on?”
“No ⦠yes ⦠thanks.” I point to the silver heart with the gold bow on top.
“Lovely choice,” Mr. Wickstrom says. “Elegant and classic.”
I open the locket and stare at the two empty hearts. I picture me on one side, JFK on the other. I hear the store door open, Mr. Wickstrom greeting customers.
“Hey, Willa.” It can't be. JFK is there with his father and little brother.
“Hi, Joseph.” I quickly hand the necklace back to Mr. Wickstrom.
“We're picking up my mother's birthday present,” JFK says.
“That's nice. Hi, Mr. Kennelly. Hi, Brendan.”
“Are you buying a heart necklace, too?” Joseph asks.
“What? No. Why?” My face flushes.
“Those lockets,” JFK says, pointing. “I was in here with Dad ordering my mom's birthday gift, and Ruby Sivler came in. She said she couldn't decide which locket she liked best and could I please help her choose. I pointed to one, I'm not even sure which, and she was all happy because I helped her decide.”
Oh, thank you, thank you.
So JFK didn't buy a locket for Ruby after all!
“No,” I say. “I'm not buying one.” I start to leave, then stop.
Be a leaper, Willa, leap.
I fluff up my curly side, turn around, and smile. “A girl doesn't buy a locket for herself, Joseph. She gets one from a boy.”
There was a star danced, and under that was
I born.
âShakespeare,
Much Ado About Nothing
On my fourteenth birthday I build two snowpeople next to the Bramble Board. One's a bit taller. They are facing each other. I give them crazy pine-bough hair and set the stick arms so it looks like they're dancing.
Mother and Sam have a fancy dinner for me in the private dining room. Tina is invited, of course, and Nana, Mum and Riley, Dr. Swammy and Mrs. Saperstone.
Sam serves my favorites. Shrimp cocktail, Caesar salad, filet mignon, and garlic mashed potatoes. Nana proposes a toast, like Gramp would have, but when she starts crying, Sam finishes. “To our wonderful, Willa. May this year be your happiest yet.”
“Cheers!”
Tina says she has a “surprise” for me. Some friends are getting together.
It's freezing outside and dark, but the sky is bright with stars. I'm wearing the new sweater Nana bought me, the new earrings from Mum, and the watch from Stella and Sam. I can't wait to see JFK.
Everyone's waiting for us at the bowling alley. Tina arranged the whole thing. Trish, Kelsey and Caroline, Emily, Allison, and Lexy, even Luke and Jessie. Everyone except JFK. JFK and Ruby.
“I think Ruby probably came down with that flu that's going around,” Tina says.
There is no flu going around.
“Oh yeah, Willa,” Jessie says. “Joe said to tell you he's sorry but he had to go somewhere with his family tonight.”
“No problem.” I feel like someone dropped a bowling ball on my stomach.
Tina, in perfect best friend form, makes it seem like bowling is the best sport ever. After, we go to Zoe's for pizza. Tina gives me a card that everyone signed. Everyone except Ruby and JFK. There's a check inside made out to the Save the Bramble Library Fund.
“Instead of getting you a bunch of stuff you don't wantâyou are the most unmaterialistic person we know, Willaâwe decided to put our money together and make a donation in your name to the library.”
“Thanks, everybody,” I say. “This is great.”
Tina brings out a cake with a mermaid wearing a yellow bikini and sunglasses. I count the fourteen candles in my head. All my friends sing “Happy Birthday,” but the person I want most to be singing isn't even here.
Where is he?
Tina hands me a knife. “Don't forget to make a wish.”
I didn't forget. I close my eyes. The wishing part is easy.
Later as we're walking home, I hear Jessie and Luke talking. “⦠box seats for the Super Bowl, right over the 50-yard line. How awesome is that? And they're flying him to Florida in their private jet. Her father is loaded ⦔
I forgot all about the Pats.
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim
When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid.
âShakespeare,
Romeo and Juliet
“We have a huge problem,” Tina says at the Community Service meeting.
Only the girls are here. The boys have all dropped out. “We've sold 102 tickets for the Dream.”
“A hundred and two tickets,”
I say. “That's great!”
“But only two of them are
boys,”
Tina says. “We've got a hundred girls out there shopping for gowns and only
two
boys renting tuxedos. We didn't want to upset you with this before now, Willa, with your grandfather and all, and then it was your birthday, but we've got to do something, quick. The boys are boycotting the Dream!”
“We need a big draw,” Emily says. “Something like Ruby's Super Bowl tick ⦔
Tina elbows Emily and gives her an evil look. I sneak a peek at Ruby. She looks at me. We both look somewhere else.
Update: JFK went to the Super Bowl with the Sivlers. What Patriots-loving boy in his right mind would pass up a chance like that? What Ruby didn't plan on, however, was that JFK gave the second ticket to his father. And they didn't fly down in the Sivler's private jet. JFK's Florida grandparents had invited the Kennellys for a January vacation and so JFK and his father were already going to be there. They just met up with the Sivlers at the stadium. Love those Florida grandparents.
“Kiss and Guess was a big hit at the turkey thing,” Tina says.
“Well we can't do Kiss and Guess at a formal dance,” Ruby says. “There's a certain protocol. Mommy's friend, Shirley Katz, has an A-list event planned for usâ”
“A, B, C, who cares,” Trish says. “There aren't any
boys
on the list!”
“Okay, girls,” Tina says, “let's put our thinking caps on.” She motions like she's putting an actual hat on her head. “What's going to get the boys there?
Let's face it, boys hate fancy dances. They're just hoping for some time alone with a prettyâ”
“I've got an idea,” I say. Tina and Ruby look at me with little hope.
“Boys,
Willa,” Tina says,
“boys.
How to get a hundred
boys
to the Dream.”
I fluff the curly half of “the Willa.” “Trust me,” I say, “I've got a super boy-magnet idea ⦠but I've got to make a phone call first.”
“A super boy-magnet idea?”
Ruby is mimicking my words as I leave.
“Wait a minute, Rube,” Tina says. “When Willa says âtrust me,' she delivers.” Tina flips her hair back, done deal.
Now I just have to deliver.