The Infinity Year of Avalon James Read online

  After all, the school spelling bee was in January. And I had been preparing for it my entire life.

  TWO

  On the first day of fifth grade, Mrs. Brightwell drove up to our house at 7:30 sharp. From my bedroom window, I saw Atticus get out of her car and dump his backpack next to our mailbox.

  “Mom! They’re here!” I yelled, and kissed M, who was still sleeping on our bed. “I don’t have lunch money!”

  I walked into my mom’s bedroom. She was dressed in her robe and putting on makeup.

  “Mom! I’m gonna be late,” I said.

  “You and me both,” she said, and flung her purse across the bed. “Just get what you need.”

  I dug into my mom’s big yellow wallet and came up with a five-dollar bill. “Can I take this?” I held up the bill as if for inspection.

  “Sure,” she said. I tucked it in my pocket and turned to leave. “But bring the change.”

  “Okay,” I said, and picked up my backpack in the hallway.

  “Have a good day,” Mom called out. “And remember you’re going to Mrs. White’s after school.”

  “I know,” I yelled back, and slipped out the door.

  Atticus was waiting for me at the end of our driveway. He wasn’t alone. Mrs. Brightwell was still there. She had rolled down the window of her car and was looking at Atticus like he was a beloved dog she was leaving at the pound.

  “Are you sure I can’t follow you?” she asked as I walked up beside him.

  “Mom, you promised,” Atticus said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “But—”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “School’s just down the street.”

  “Could I at least pick you up after school with everyone else?” she asked.

  “Mom!” Atticus exclaimed.

  “Okay, okay,” she said. “I’ll pick you up here.”

  “Mrs. White’s,” I chimed in.

  Mrs. Brightwell looked next door. “Mrs. White’s,” she said, exasperated. “What time?”

  “About four thirty?” Atticus said, looking at me for confirmation.

  I nodded.

  Mrs. Brightwell sighed.

  Atticus’s mom does not like me. Atticus tells me that’s not true and that his mom likes me fine. Unlike him, I have a little thing called women’s intuition and it tells me that he is dead wrong. If I had a nickel for every time Mrs. Brightwell has rolled her eyes or sighed when Atticus mentioned my name, I’d be a hundredaire by now.

  As Mrs. Brightwell drove away, Atticus and I picked up our backpacks and started walking.

  I never liked the first day of school but this was definitely the worst First Day ever. Atticus and I would be in separate classes. I was going to be trapped in old Mrs. Jackson’s class with Cruella and her evil stepsisters. And this was the first First Day my dad wasn’t walking me to school.

  We didn’t talk as we walked past Mrs. White’s house, where every bird in the neighborhood was gathered at the big bird feeder outside her kitchen window. When I’m doing my homework at her kitchen table after school, she likes to whistle to them while she makes me a snack. Mrs. White loves her birds. M hates them.

  “Atticus, I’ve been thinking about something,” I said as we left Mrs. White’s house behind. “I’ve been thinking about where we’re going to go when we grow up and leave this place.”

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “The Galápagos Islands. For starters.”

  “Okay,” Atticus said.

  “Tell me about the ocean again.”

  Atticus knows that talking about the ocean soothes me. It is one of my true-life aims to see it one day. Atticus has seen the ocean many times. His family goes there every summer.

  “It’s bigger than you’d think,” he said. “And it’s loud. Like a constant roar. All day and all night. It’s cold, too. Whenever I get in and it’s cold like that, I always think about how cold it must have been.” He shook his head. “You know. On that night.”

  “That night” was the night the Titanic sank. Atticus is a freak about the Titanic. He knows everything about it. Everything. If you don’t already know, the Titanic was a ship that was supposed to be unsinkable. On its first voyage, however, it sank in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of the night. It happened over a hundred years ago and lots of people died and Atticus is totally obsessed with it—to the point where I think it might be unhealthy.

  I shrugged my shoulders. The ocean the Titanic sank in was not the kind of ocean I was thinking about. “I don’t care what it looks like at night.”

  “But you should, Avie. The ocean’s beautiful at night. It goes on forever and ever. To infinity.”

  “Infinity,” I said quietly.

  We walked for a minute without talking. I was careful not to step on any cracks in the sidewalk. I’d had enough bad luck already.

  “Did you talk to your mom about what Elena said?” Atticus asked.

  “No,” I answered.

  “Why not?”

  “You know. Like she needs one more thing to worry about.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and kicked a stone across the sidewalk.

  Ever since last year, Mom’s been working as a nurse again. She used to be a nurse before I was born but quit working after that so she could take care of me. Now she was back in the ICU at St. Joseph’s. She works long hours and she’s tired a lot.

  “But I’ve got a plan,” I said.

  “What plan?”

  I smiled. “I’m going to cut off Elena’s ponytail and feed it to the tigers.”

  He stopped and looked at me. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” I said. “We’re going to the zoo this year.”

  “That’s months away.”

  “So.”

  “I’m not in your class, Avie,” Atticus said. “And she is.”

  “It’ll be okay,” I lied. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Right.”

  We started walking again. Atticus knew me. He knew I was the kind of person who really would cut off someone’s ponytail if it came to it. He also knew that his voice was always in the back of my head telling me that cutting off ponytails was a bad idea. Most of the time, the voice of Atticus would win.

  Sometimes it would not.

  I could see the school up ahead beyond the mailbox at the top of our street. Once a week, I put a letter into that mailbox. Today was one of those days. I pulled an envelope from my backpack and slipped it through the slot.

  “I ran into Chloe at the mall last weekend,” I said. “And it went okay.” I neglected to mention the Jell-O incident.

  “I’ll be just next door,” he said. “If you need anything.”

  I smiled inside.

  “I mean it, Avie.”

  “I know,” I said.

  The crossing guard stopped traffic in front of us. The walk was over. Time to cross the street and start fifth grade.

  I turned and saw Mrs. Brightwell parked in the lot next to the Jiffy Freeze, right across the street from school. The Jiffy Freeze has the best double chocolate fudge ice cream cones in town. Our eyes met. I could tell she didn’t think we were going to see her. She was so busted.

  I quickly turned away. Atticus didn’t know his mother would spy on him. But I did. He deserved to know.

  I looked back toward the Jiffy Freeze. Mrs. Brightwell had disappeared. Her car was still there but she wasn’t. I would bet my bowl of Seashells of the World that she was ducking beneath the dashboard.

  Today, I decided to let the voice of Atticus in my head win. I followed him across the street feeling the eyes of Mrs. Brightwell burning a hole in my back every step of the way.

  She would owe me for this.

  Atticus walked me to my class and wished me luck. I looked inside and saw Elena’s Gang of 3 staring back at me.

  * * *

  Mrs. Jackson sat us in alphabetical order, so my desk happened to be next to Chloe Martin’s. In the desk behind Chloe was Elena Maxwell a
nd in the desk behind Elena was Sissy Mendez.

  Alphabetical order can really stink.

  Marcus Johnson sat behind me and, like in second grade, his desk was right beside Elena’s. She looked over at Marcus as if she couldn’t believe this was happening to her again. In response, Marcus puckered his lips and blew her an air-kiss. Elena dramatically threw her hands to her face and groaned.

  Mrs. Jackson stood up from behind her desk and wrote her name in big letters on the chalkboard. I thought that was funny. Who in this class didn’t already know that she was Mrs. Jackson?

  She started by telling us all the rules of her classroom. Like how we shouldn’t run or chew gum or speak without raising our hands. I stared at the long whisker growing out of her chin. It wiggled with every word she said.

  “There is one last rule of this classroom that must be abided by above all others,” Mrs. Jackson continued. As she spoke she wrote this in big letters under her name:

  NO BULLIES ALLOWED

  She suddenly had my attention.

  “There will be no bullying in this class,” she said. “Anyone who exhibits bullying behavior will be sent directly to Mr. Peterson’s office.”

  I turned and looked at Elena. She acted like she didn’t see me but I knew she did.

  That would be great if Elena was sent to Mr. Peterson’s office. That would really make my Infinity Year.

  Mr. Peterson was the kind of principal who told jokes to the students and dressed up on Halloween but if you had to go to his office, it was a different story altogether. Last year, Adam Singleton hocked a loogie onto the chalkboard right in the middle of our math class. It was gross. Ms. Kinney sent him directly to Mr. Peterson’s office. He didn’t come back until after recess and I could tell he had been crying. Ever since, I have wondered what Mr. Peterson did to him. Adam wouldn’t tell.

  I figured if Mr. Peterson can make Adam Singleton cry, he might have a chance with Elena.

  At that moment, a grand idea sprang forth. I didn’t have to do anything to Elena this year. She would do it to herself. All I had to do was be sure Mrs. Jackson was watching when Elena struck.

  I could do that.

  THREE

  It was the third week of school when I bumped into Harinder Singh.

  It was Pizza Friday and Mae Bearman and I were going through the lunch line. Mae and I were teaming up quite a bit these days. Mrs. Jackson assigned us to be partners in our Family Tree Project. Then, in recess, Mae shared her jump rope with me while Atticus was playing kickball. Now, every day Mae lets the Cs through the Is pass her in the lunch line so we can get our lunches together.

  So we were in the lunch line and Mae was talking all about how her grandmother has these pictures of old dead people we can put on her family tree. I listened and smiled at the lunch ladies while Mae talked.

  We both chose a cheese slice with peas on the side and a carton of milk. I enjoy Pizza Friday. It’s the one day when lunchroom food tastes almost like the real thing.

  I picked up my tray and started walking into the lunchroom. I was ahead of Mae because she went back to switch her regular milk for the strawberry kind (which is so disgusting). All the fifth and the seventh graders share the same lunch period and Mrs. Jackson’s class is one of the last to arrive, so you can imagine how crowded and loud it was in there.

  Mae said something to me from behind. I couldn’t hear her so I turned around.

  “See you after lunch,” she said loudly, and nodded toward the middle of our table. Each class has to sit at the same long table at lunch. Mae usually sits in the middle of the Mrs. Jackson table so she can lean across the aisle and talk to her best friend, Hannah, who sits at the Mrs. Mendez table.

  “Okay,” I said, and turned back around.

  That’s when I collided with Harinder Singh. My lunch tray went flying. Pizza went one way and green peas went every other way. The tray hit the tile floor and bounced really loud. The lunchroom went totally silent.

  Everybody was looking at me.

  I have a habit of opening my milk in the lunch line and taking a sip. Now I know why the lunch ladies frown upon this practice. Milk was in my hair, in my eyes, all over my shirt, and dripping down my neck. A white pool was forming around my feet. It wasn’t funny. But apparently the entire fifth and seventh grades of Grover Cleveland K–8 School didn’t agree. They all started laughing.

  I quickly bent down to pick up my tray.

  “Are you all right?”

  I looked up. Harinder was kneeling beside me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.” He picked up my tray and disappeared. There I remained, covered in milk, alone, in the middle of the lunchroom. Oh, the joys of fifth grade. Note to self: Infinity Year powers DO NOT help with spilled milk in laughing lunchrooms.

  It took what seemed like an embarrassingly long time before Harinder came back with two kitchen towels.

  “Thanks,” I said, and took the towels.

  Everyone was still laughing and watching me while I started to wipe milk from my face. Harinder noticed and turned to the room. “What are you looking at?” he said loudly, with all the authority of a seventh grader.

  The whole lunchroom got quiet. I watched in awe as they turned away and went back to their pizzas and peas.

  “I’m Hari, by the way,” he said.

  I knew that. Everybody knows who Hari Singh is. His real name is Harinder but all the kids call him Hari. He is tall with dark hair that droops over one eye and his nose is a little bit crooked. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that Hari Singh is the current spelling champion of our school.

  He must have noticed I was staring.

  “Are those your flashcards?” he asked.

  I looked behind me. My flashcards had fallen out of the bag that I carry to lunch. Other than M, my flashcards are my most important things. I take them almost everywhere. You never know when there’ll be a spare moment to learn a new word.

  “You’re a speller?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “Awesome.”

  He gave me a little grin while two lunch ladies and Mrs. Mendez approached to help clean up the mess—which included me.

  I watched him walk back to one of the seventh-grade tables. Harinder Singh—who went to the National Spelling Bee last spring. Harinder Singh—who, out of 289 participants, came in twenty-seventh of all the kids in the whole country. M and I watched the whole thing on TV.

  “Avie?”

  I turned and saw Atticus standing beside me.

  “I was in the bathroom,” he said. “What happened?”

  Atticus has to pee more than any other human I know. He’ll do it anywhere, too. No bathroom required.

  “Come on, Avalon,” Mrs. Mendez said. “Let’s get you some fresh clothes.”

  While Mrs. Mendez led me toward the lunchroom door, I looked back at Atticus. “My flashcards,” I mouthed. He looked down and saw them, so I knew it would be all right.

  We passed Elena, Chloe, and Sissy, who were sitting at one end of the Mrs. Jackson table.

  “Look at the Milk Monster,” Sissy said, and laughed. Elena’s eyes met mine as she leaned over to Sissy and whispered something in her ear. I watched as Sissy’s eyes got wide and her head started nodding madly. Elena was clearly adding a new twist to the already diabolical plan they had in store for me.

  Sissy’s mother, whose claw was biting into my shoulder, did nothing but smile.

  Mrs. Mendez dropped me off at the nurse’s office as if I had a head full of lice or something. She couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

  Nurse Davis was really nice, though. She sat me on the exam table and helped me take off my milky shoes. She said she would clean them up while I was in the shower.

  While I showered in the little bathroom off the nurse’s office, I thought about my Infinity Year power. I had been focusing very hard on it ever since school began. What would it be? When would it show up? I hadn’t told
Atticus yet but there’d been a couple of times—always when it was really quiet at night and there was just me and M—that I’d started to feel … something. Something deep down inside. Like the magic was hovering somewhere, ready to come through. And just because it hadn’t shown up to help me in the lunchroom didn’t mean it wasn’t real. Maybe it just wasn’t ready. Maybe it was saving itself for when I needed it most. Maybe one day my Infinity Year power was going to erupt like one of Ms. Smith’s volcanoes and save the day.

  Ten minutes later I was back in the lunchroom at the opposite end of the table from Elena, Chloe, and Sissy, wearing a Be a Reading Geek T-shirt.

  Sitting right next to Atticus.

  We worked it out the very first day of school. The Mrs. Jackson table is between the Mrs. Mendez and Ms. Smith tables. Ms. Smith’s class gets to lunch before us, so Atticus sits at the end of their table and doesn’t let anyone sit in the chair next to him at our table. Until I arrive.

  No one sits in our seats. Everyone knows those seats are reserved for Avalon and Atticus.

  Adam Singleton and Kevin Matthews always sit next to Atticus at their table. Sometimes Eva Chang sits next to me—that’s when she’s not sitting with Amy Atkins-McGregor.

  On this day, it was just me and the boys. As I sat down, Atticus handed me my flashcards and one of the lunch ladies, Miss Judy, brought me a replacement lunch. “Be careful with this one,” she said as she gave me a milk carton.

  I half smiled until she turned away. “Why does stuff like this happen to me?” I groaned.

  “’Member that time you went to the blackboard and your dress was stuck all up into your underwear?” Adam said like it was a great moment in history. I remember it as the last day I ever wore a dress to class.

  “Or how about that time you fell asleep on your desk and woke up with a Magic Marker mustache,” Kevin added.

  “Oh, yeah! And remember when you got locked in the janitor’s closet?” Adam said. “That was hilari—”

  He broke off. I turned just in time to see the arch in Atticus’s left eyebrow come down. He had a way of silencing people with that eyebrow of his.

  “A lot of that wasn’t my fault,” I said.