Aleca Zamm Is Ahead of Her Time Read online

  CONTENTS

  1

  What’s Worse Than Getting in Trouble? Waiting to Get in Trouble!

  2

  Sticky Situations and Sneeze Stifling

  3

  Roller-Skating and Nose Rubbing

  4

  Every Party Has Its Pooper

  5

  Aunt Zephyr Shows Off

  6

  Spry or Not, Old Bones Are Still Old Bones

  7

  Applying Science to the Madison Problem

  8

  Big Wonders Come in Small Packages

  9

  The Smackdown on Snitches

  10

  The Most Disappointing Tattling in the History of Ever

  11

  My New Ally (Which Is What Spies Call People on Their Side, and Being a Spy Is Kind of Exciting)

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  In memory of Mandy Latner (1974–2016),

  who loved children and books

  1

  What’s Worse Than Getting in Trouble? Waiting to Get in Trouble!

  “Where’s Aunt Zephyr?” I asked my mom as soon as I hopped into the car after school.

  “And hello to you, too,” said my mom.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Hi, Mom. Where’s Aunt Zephyr? Is she waiting for us at home?”

  “I’m afraid not,” my mother replied.

  “Well, where is she?” I asked. “Will she be back soon?”

  “I don’t know,” answered my mom. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

  This was not good news. Because ever since lunch that day, all I’d been able to think about was talking to my weird, Wonder-ful aunt Zephyr. I hadn’t been able to focus on anything else—not my schoolwork; not my best friend, Maria; not even my awesome birthday skating party happening the next day.

  The reason I was thinking about Aunt Zephyr was because she was the only other person I knew who was a Wonder, like me. At least, that was what Aunt Zephyr called us—Wonders. The word referred to people who were able to do amazing, unusual things. Aunt Zephyr could think herself anywhere in the world she wanted to go. I could stop time—which, by the way, was something I was not supposed to do. Ever again.

  But I had. That very day, in the school lunchroom.

  I mean, I’d had a good reason and everything. At least I’d thought so.

  Trouble was, I had kind of gotten caught.

  Maybe.

  Possibly?

  Probably.

  And so I needed to run this information by Aunt Zephyr immediately.

  “I wish I knew when she was coming back,” I said.

  “Unfortunately, your aunt left without a word to anyone. I find that to be an egregious lack of good manners.” I didn’t know what that word meant, but Mom had dragged it out and emphasized it—“ee-GREEEE-gee-us”—so I figured it must mean something really bad if she took that long to say it. Then Mom added, “But what do I know? I’m just a Dud, after all.”

  My mom is usually very good-natured. In fact, her first name is Harmony, which is perfect because she has a talent for getting along with almost everybody all the time. But she seemed pretty annoyed about Aunt Zephyr’s leaving without telling her. Plus, she hadn’t been too thrilled when Aunt Zephyr had called her a Dud, which I guess might sound kind of harsh if you happen to be a Dud, but Aunt Zephyr doesn’t mean it to be hurtful. That is just what she calls regular people who aren’t Wonders like us. My sister and both of my parents are Duds, and so is everyone else I know except for Aunt Zephyr.

  Oh, and apparently at least one other person.

  I knew this because Duds are stopped along with everything else when I stop time, so they don’t even know it’s happening. I thought everyone at my school was a Dud, since everybody stops when I stop time. Well, I thought everybody stopped. But earlier today when I stopped time in the lunchroom, I saw someone’s head move outside the window. It caught my eye, seeing as how it was the only motion there was. When time stops, trees stop blowing in the wind because the wind stops blowing. Stuff that was thrown up into the air stays there instead of falling back down. Birds and bugs stop flying and just float. A splash of water stands up stiff and stays there. Everything looks just like in a photograph. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound.

  Except for other Wonders.

  So when I saw the movement outside the lunchroom window, I ran to see who it was. But I didn’t find anyone. All I could tell from the brief glimpse I’d had was that the person’s hair hadn’t been orange-sherbet-colored, so I knew it wasn’t Aunt Zephyr.

  Either another Wonder lived in our town, or someone had come looking for me. Aunt Zephyr had warned me that some Duds might be aware of us. That was one reason why I wasn’t supposed to stop time, because there could be dangerous Duds lurking. Who knew?

  So the person outside the lunchroom could’ve been a Dud who had figured out a way to become immune to Wonder-ing, or it could have been another Wonder who was not Aunt Zephyr. I had no idea how many other Wonders existed in the world, but it seemed unlikely that there would be another one in our little town of Prophet’s Porch, Texas. I had to find out who it was and what they wanted.

  But since Aunt Zephyr could think herself places in the blink of an eye, right then she could have been anywhere in the world.

  I had to find Aunt Zephyr, fast, and ask her what to do about the person I’d seen outside the lunchroom window.

  But how?

  2

  Sticky Situations and Sneeze Stifling

  When I got home, I looked all over the house. “Aunt Zephyr?” I called. I thought maybe she might be back from wherever she’d gone, but she didn’t answer.

  It was lucky for me that Dylan wasn’t home from choir practice yet. She might have asked questions about why I was so worried about finding Aunt Zephyr. I didn’t think Dylan was particularly fond of our aunt.

  “Aleca, is something wrong?” my mom asked. “Did something else . . . happen?”

  My mom and dad knew all about my being a Wonder. My mom had been pretty freaked out when she’d heard, because until then she hadn’t known that Wonders even existed, and she’d certainly never met one. My dad hadn’t been too surprised because he’d known that his dad and his uncle Zander and his aunt Zephyr were Wonders. Dad was a Dud because probably Wonder-ness skipped a generation or something. But at least he’d known what Wonders were. I guess that was why he hadn’t had to take a headache pill and go lie down when he’d heard the news, the way Mom had.

  “Aleca,” Mom said now. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  I mumbled, “I kinda stopped time again today.”

  “You what?”

  “I kinda stopped time again.”

  “Kinda?” my mom said. “Aleca, how does one ‘kind of’ stop time?”

  She had a point.

  “Okay, I stopped time,” I admitted. “No ‘kinda.’ ”

  “Darling!” my mom said. She looked worried. “You know you’re not supposed to do that anymore! It’s dangerous!”

  I felt bad, because my mom is awesome. Ever since I started kindergarten, she has put funny notes in my lunch box every day. She cuts my sandwiches into four triangles, just the way I like it. She doesn’t get mad when I get a bad grade on a math test, as long as I try my hardest. She was letting me have my birthday party at the skating rink, with a cake from the fancy bakery downtown, and was even getting several of those shiny balloons that are four or five bucks a pop. (Not that you would pop them, but that is what people say—“a pop.” Even about balloons.)

  “I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I was trying to help someone.” I explained to her about how a lunch
room worker was about to drop a tray filled with steaming water. “I kept her from getting hurt. And I kept perfectly good hot dogs from going to waste. Two good things!”

  Mom hugged me. “I understand, sweetie,” she said. “But we don’t know what bad things might happen if you continue using your . . . power.”

  “I know,” I replied. I didn’t have the heart to tell her about the moving head I had seen outside the lunchroom window.

  Just then the door opened. Mom and I both jumped to see who it was. But it was only Dylan.

  “Choir practice got canceled.” Dylan sighed. “Kelly’s mom dropped me off. What’s wrong with you two?”

  “Wrong?” my mom asked. “Why would anything be wrong?”

  “Because you both look like you just stuck your finger into an electrical socket.” She meant that we looked jittery and crazy-eyed. And that is how you look after you stick your finger into an electrical socket. I know from experience. When I was little, I had trouble sometimes “making good choices” like they told us to do in preschool.

  “Ha-ha-ha,” my mom said. She didn’t actually laugh; she said “ha-ha-ha.” “Everything is fine. But you haven’t seen your aunt Zephyr, have you? We’ve looked all over for her and don’t know where she is.”

  “I haven’t seen her,” said Dylan. “You think she finally decided to leave?”

  “She just got here yesterday,” my mom answered.

  “Long enough for me.” Dylan scowled.

  Mom didn’t say anything.

  “I’ve got homework,” Dylan said, and went upstairs to her room.

  It was only a few seconds later that we heard her scream.

  Mom and I ran up the stairs to her room.

  “What on earth?” Mom yelled. Aunt Zephyr was sitting on Dylan’s bed, wearing only a towel around her body and a towel around her hair.

  “I thought you said she wasn’t here!” Dylan shouted. “Scared me to death, someone sitting on my bed when I opened the door! What’s she even doing in my room?”

  “A thousand pardons for invading your sanctuary,” said Aunt Zephyr. “My aim isn’t what it used to be.”

  “Aim?” asked Dylan. Then she whispered to Mom, “She is such a freak!”

  “Dylan,” Mom said. “You haven’t had a snack since you got home from school. Why don’t you run down to the kitchen and pour yourself a nice glass of milk? I made chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Cookies?” Dylan questioned, her eyebrows arched like rainbows. “All right. But can you please get her out of here?”

  “Watch yourself, Dylan,” Mom cautioned. “You will treat your aunt Zephyr with respect.”

  Dylan rolled her eyes but was too scared of Mom to say anything back. She knew she was one smart-mouthed comment away from losing her cell phone for a week, and as a middle schooler, Dylan did not think it was physically possible to live without her phone. She stomped downstairs.

  Once Dylan was gone, Mom whispered, “Zephyr, we’ve been worried sick! Where have you been?”

  “Finland,” Aunt Zephyr replied.

  “Why are you wearing towels?” I asked.

  “I ran into an old friend,” she said. “She invited me to take a sauna with her.”

  “What’s a sauna, and where did you take it to?” I asked.

  “A sauna, my dear, is a sweat bath.”

  “Gross!” I said. “I wouldn’t take a bath in somebody’s sweat for a million bucks!”

  “The sweat is one’s own,” Aunt Zephyr explained. “It is produced by sitting in a hot room and relaxing.”

  “Wait. You mean you went all the way to Finland to sit around and get sweaty—on purpose—with a friend of yours?” I asked.

  “Of course. In Finland it’s very rude to refuse an invitation to sauna. What choice did I have? Besides, a nice, deep sweat is so invigorating. Do I look invigorated?”

  “You look kind of sticky,” I stated.

  “If by ‘sticky’ you mean ‘relaxed,’ then you are correct,” said Aunt Zephyr.

  “You might have told me you were going to Finland,” said my mom.

  “I assure you, Harmony, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Spontaneity keeps life interesting.”

  “Well, if you’re going to be spontaneous again anytime soon, could you at least leave a note?” My mom sighed. “Aleca has something to tell you.”

  “What is it, little miss?” asked Aunt Zephyr.

  I gulped hard, like I was trying to swallow the news so it wouldn’t come out. “I stopped time again today,” I blurted.

  Aunt Zephyr didn’t look shocked. “Of course. I already knew that,” she asserted. “Just as I was telling the most marvelous story, I noticed that Vilhelmiina failed to laugh at the best part, about the hippopotamus and the man in the trench coat. At first I thought Vilhelmiina had lost her sense of humor entirely. But then I realized that no one could not laugh at the hippopotamus-and-the-man-in-the-trench-coat story. So it stood to reason that either Vilhelmiina was dead or you’d stopped time again. I stepped out of the sauna and realized no one was moving, so I assumed the latter. But more to the point—did we or did we not discuss this just yesterday?” she asked flatly.

  “We did,” I said. “But see, I had this idea—”

  “You had an idea,” Aunt Zephyr interrupted. “So did the people who created cigarettes . . . or shoes for cats. Not all ideas are good ones.”

  I repeated the story about the lunch lady and how I’d wanted to help her. Then I tried to explain my theory that if I did a good thing when I stopped time, maybe it would cancel out any bad things I had done by stopping time before. When I said it out loud, my theory sounded pretty ridiculous.

  “Wait . . . don’t tell me,” Aunt Zephyr said. “It didn’t work out as you’d hoped.”

  “Not exactly,” I said. Then I told her and Mom about the person moving outside the lunchroom window.

  “Oh, Aleca!” Mom cried. “Who?”

  “That’s just it,” I replied. “I don’t know. I went outside to look, but the person was long gone.”

  Aunt Zephyr didn’t say anything for a while. Her eyebrows were squished together so that the skin between them made a deep eleven.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked.

  “I don’t exactly know what to say,” declared Aunt Zephyr. “This is most troubling.”

  “Who do you think it could be?” asked my mom.

  “I have no clue,” she said.

  Suddenly I felt excited. “I’ve got an idea!” I exclaimed.

  “Oh, good,” Aunt Zephyr muttered. “Another idea.”

  “How about if you come to school with me on Monday, like maybe to read to my class or something, and while you’re there, I can stop time again. Then the two of us can search for the person who was outside the lunchroom window. It will be easy to tell who it is, because the three of us will be the only ones not frozen!”

  “Absolutely not!” insisted Aunt Zephyr. “We don’t know whom we’re dealing with. It could be someone dangerous. We can’t risk you exposing yourself again. So no more time stopping. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “I mean it, Aleca,” said Aunt Zephyr. “You’re causing us all a lot of needless worry.”

  “Speaking of needless worry, Aunt Zephyr,” my mom said. “About your . . . travels? You’re the only one who can help Aleca with being a Wonder. We desperately need you here. And if you must unexpectedly dash off to Finland or wherever, could you please let us know where we can contact you? If there’s an emergency—”

  “I assure you, Harmony,” Aunt Zephyr said, “that from now on I will try to be more considerate about my spur-of-the-moment jaunts.”

  “Thank you,” my mom replied. “I would greatly appreciate it.” Mom didn’t look relieved, though. She still looked really tense, and she rubbed her forehead like she had a whopper of a headache. “I’m going to check on Dylan,” she said.

  “Your mother is upset,�
� Aunt Zephyr fretted after Mom left the room. “That is regrettable.”

  “You got off easy,” I asserted.

  “I would never worry your mother on purpose,” Aunt Zephyr said. “You see, Aleca, between you, me, and the fence post, I didn’t exactly intend to go to Finland today.”

  I looked around but didn’t see any fence posts. Also, I didn’t understand what Aunt Zephyr meant about not going to Finland on purpose. “You went to Finland by accident?”

  “Yes.” She groaned.

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, why didn’t you just tell Mom that? Then she wouldn’t be upset with you.”

  “I’d rather her be upset with me and think I’m inconsiderate than have her worry herself sick,” Aunt Zephyr said. “If she knew the truth, she’d be a nervous wreck.”

  “What is the truth?”

  Aunt Zephyr hesitated. “The truth is, I can’t always help it when I teleport somewhere.”

  “You can’t?”

  “No,” she replied. “As I age, my Wonder ability seems to be going the way of the rest of my abilities. Like my joints, my teleportation is getting a little . . . creaky and unpredictable.”

  I guess I scrunched up my face, because Aunt Zephyr tried to explain.

  “When you get older, things you took for granted all your life stop working the way they used to. Like sometimes if I bend over to lace my shoe, I pull a muscle in my back. Or I bruise easily because my skin has become thinner. Or I have trouble seeing the words in a book.”

  “Is that because of those big flaps of skin? Do they fall over your eyeballs and make you not able to see?” After I said it, I felt kind of bad, like maybe that was one of those thoughts I should’ve kept to myself.

  Aunt Zephyr cleared her throat. “No, that wasn’t what I meant, but thank you for noticing.” Then she immediately went to Dylan’s mirror and pulled the skin flaps away from her eyeballs. “What I meant was that my eyesight is getting worse. And my back is more temperamental. And, as you so kindly pointed out, my skin is not only thin but also flappy. I’m old, Aleca. And everything is starting to go. Including my teleportation.”

  “But your Wonder ability isn’t part of your body,” I said. “It doesn’t sag or creak like your body parts.”