11 Birthdays

Chapter Seventeen

Five minutes later we're walking into the Senior Citizen Community Center. I point to a poster advertising the poetry reading. "Maybe they'll let you read your poem again."
        "No thanks. I'll read a poem in public again when you play the drums in public."
        I think about how good it felt to play the other day. "You never know. I just might surprise you."
        "How about those guys?" he asks, pointing to four white-haired men at a card table
        We walk over. For old guys they move pretty quick - tossing cards and plastic coins so fast I can't keep up with whose turn it is Leo clears his throat. No one looks up. In a loud voice he asks, "Any of you guys a hundred?"
        At that, the men all look up and started guffawing. I groan. Leo's not big on tact. "Please ignore that question," I say, rolling my eyes at Leo. "We were just hoping to ask you about some town history."
        One of the guy stops laughing long enough to light his pipe. I glanced at the big NO SMOKING sign overhead, but figured he probably doesn't have much time left anyway. Taking a puff, he gestures across the room to a man reading a newspaper on the couch. "Ask ol' Bucky Whitehead. He grew up here, and he's older than dirt."
        The others laugh. That wasn't a very nice thing to say. These men could use some lessons on tact, too. I recognize Mr. Whitehead from the poetry reading. He had been listening very intently Leo's poem. When we reach him, I do all the talking.
        "We're sorry to bother you, sir, but maybe you can tell us something about something that happened in Willow Falls a long time ago?"
        He rests his paper on his lap and looks up with a kind, milky blue eyes. "Not much happens in Willow Falls," he says with a chuckle.
        "That's true," I agree, "but this would have been a really long time ago. Maybe you remember hearing the names Ellerby and Fitzpatrick?"
        His expression doesn't change for a minute, and I'm about to thank him for his time when he lets out a low whistle. "Haven't heard those names in the same breath for must be going on eighty years now."
        Leo and I share an excited look. We both practically throw ourselves onto the couch and leaned forward. "What do you remember about them?" I ask.
        He chuckles. "Those folks sure did some crazy things. This was legendary stuff when I was a boy. They'd already patched things up by then, of course."
        "Like what kinds of crazy things?" Leo asks.
        "Oh, let's see??" His eyes close for a few seconds, and I worry he might have fallen asleep. But then he opens them and smiles. "They were neighbors, you know."
        We shake our heads.
"Oh, yes. Lived up in Apple Grove. Their farms were Apple Grove, really. Supplied all the town with ripe juicy apples. But they were always in competition with each other. One year Ellerby flooded Fitzpatrick's fields, ruining the harvest for everyone. They next year Fitzpatrick dammed up the river because it ran through his property. Then Ellerby cut down branches of his own apple trees so no apples would fall on Fitzpatrick's property, thinks like that. No, they didn't like each other one bit, those two men. And their feud disrupted the workings of the town. People taking sides. Drove everyone crazy."
        Leo and I turn to each other, wide-eyed. Could these really be our relatives? "You said they made up at some point, though?" Leo asks.

        Mr. Whitehead nods. "Strangest thing. No one knows why. One day they were boarding up any windows that looked on each other's house, then the next they were the best of friends. Sure, they had a squabble here and there, but nothing lasting more than a few days."

        "But what changed things?" I ask, amazed at this story of out long lost relatives.
        He shakes his head. "No one knows. Like I said, no day they just patched everything up. Never bothered anyone in the town again. I don't think even their own families ever knew what happened. Their secret died with 'em, I expect."

        "Is there anything else you van tell us, Mr. Whitehead?" Leo asks.
        "Call me Bucky," he insists. "Mr. Whitehead was my dad's name. So why do you kids want to know about ancient history anyway?"
        "We're kind of related to these people," I say hesitantly.
        "And you didn't know any of this stuff?"
        We shake our heads.
        "Young people today," he mutters. "Too much television."
        We take that as our cue to go. Leo stands first and reaches out to shake Bucky's hand. "Thank you for your time, Bucky," he says. "We really appreciate it."
        He waves us off. "My pleasure. Better than talking about the weather or what's for lunch. That's the usual conversation around there. Come see me anytime."

        "We will," Leo promises. I can tell he means it, too.
        When we get outside he says, "Wow."
        "I know! Wow!"
        "Your great-great-grandfather flooded my great-great-grandfather's land!"
        "Oh yeah? Well, yours dammed up a river! Whatever that means!"
        Soon we're pushing each other and laughing so hard a lady from inside the town's only fancy dress shop asks us to move on down the block.
        "Do you think there's some connection?" Leo asks when we've called down. "Like between them and what's happening to us?"
        "How could there be? The story sounds too crazy to be true. Maybe Bucky made it up."
        "Maybe," Leo says, stepping off the curb without looking. I have to grab him by the collar to avoid him being hit by an SUV. Totally oblivious to his recent brush with death, he says, "But this feels like our only lead. We need to find out more."
        "How? If our parents knew anything they'd have told us."
        "But they named us after them. That must mean something."
        "I think they had already named us before they met."
        "Hey, I know!" Leo yells, grabbing my arm. "How about we hold a séance and ask our great-great-grandparents what their secret was?"
        I roll my eyes and uncurl his fingers from my wrist. "Let's call that Plan B."
        "Then what's Plan A?"
        "I don't know yet, but I'm pretty sure we can't contact the dead."
        "A week ago you'd have said you were sure one day couldn't loop over and over again."
        Okay, he had a good point there. I glance up at the sun-shaped clock in the town center. Almost 4:30. Only a few minutes before we have to meet Leo's mom. Leo said she was so excited to hear we're friends again that she almost dropped the phone. It'll be nice to see her when she isn't furious at us. But how many times could we do this over and over again? We NEED to figure it out before I have to pretend one more time not to know a stuff raccoon lives in the Historical Society.
        "That's it!" I shout. This time I'm the one  grabbing Leo in a death grip. "The Willow Falls Historical Society! If there's any place in town that might know something, it's there."
        A honking car makes both of us jump. Leo's mom is waving out the window with a huge  grin. "That's a good idea," he says in a low voice as we cross the street toward the car. "Same after-school plan as today?"
        As I nod in agreement, his mom jumps out of the car and pulls me into a huge hug. "Amanda! You got so tall! You're sure you're only eleven?"
        "Maybe a little older than that," I mutter into her shoulder.
        "How'd this reunion happen?" she says, releasing me and whisking us into her backseat. "Leo didn't give me any details on the phone."
        "It's kind of a long story, Mom," Leo says. "Can I tell you tomorrow?"
        He winks at me as he says this and I stifle a laugh.
        "Sure, keep me in suspense, why don't you," she complains as we head across town towards my house.
        "Can I ask you something, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?"
        She glances back at me in the review mirror. "You know Leo just felt terrible about what happened, don't you, darling?"
        "Mom!" Leo complains.
        "Oops, sorry, honey. Go on, Amanda, you can ask me anything."
        "What do you know about the people Leo and I were named after?"
        Without even pausing she says, "Oh, that family feud thing? Didn't we ever tell you about that?"
        "Um, NO!" Leo cries out.
        "Not much to tell. Way back out two families shared some kind of apple orchard. They used to fight over whether the apples that landed on the Fitzpatricks' property ere rightfully his since they came from the Ellerbys' tree."
        "But what happened after the feud?" Leo asks.
        His mom shrugs. "They made up, I guess. In their wills they left Apple Grove to the town so the town would always have apples."
        "But isn't that where the mall is now?" I ask as we pull up to my house. "In Apple Grove?"
        She nods. "That's progress for ya."
        "But how did they make up?" Leo asks.
        "I really don't know, honey. Maybe they just realized a few apples weren't worth all the hassle."
        Leo crosses his arms over his chest. He's not convinced and neither am I.
        Mrs. Fitzpatrick gets out of the car to give me one last hug. "You'll come over first thing in the morning and tell me how you two made up, right?"
        "Um, sure. And thanks for driving me home."
        She wipes away a tear. Leo rolls his eyes, but I think it's really sweets. I'll never get tired of her being happy to see me. I duck my head into the back and whisper, "Have fun with Hop-Along-Willie!"
        "Have fun with the blisters!"
        "See you In history class," I reply.
        "Don't forget to study!" he calls out.
        And when my party ends, after I've comforted Mom about losing her job and shredded my Dorothy costume into the trash can, I do study. But instead of history, I use Kylie's science textbook from last year to draw a chart of the periodic table. You never know when it might come in handy.