“No,” said Abner. “I don’t want to do it.”

He didn’t want to go downstairs and barge into his parents’ party. He didn’t want to dodge through a crowd of strangers to get to the dessert table. And he didn’t want to load a plate with little iced cakes and try to bring them back. For one thing, he would look like a pig.

“But you’re the oldest,” said Celia.

Derek said, “You’re the tallest, too.”

Tate flipped her ponytail over her shoulder. “You’re the closest to being a grown-up,” she explained. “You’ll blend in better than we would.”

Abner pointed at their supper trays. “If you’re so hungry, why don’t you finish the party food you already have?”

Derek popped a tiny meatball in his mouth. “There,” he said with his mouth full. “That’s the last good thing. Everything else is weird.”

Tate waved a hand at the food that was left. “He’s right, Abner. Look. Cream cheese and peppers. Stuffed mushrooms. Watercress and pickled beets and—what is that green stuff?”

“Roasted Brussels sprouts,” said Derek in a tone of gloom. “I asked.”

Abner looked at the round green vegetables and flinched.

“But the cakes were good,” said Tate, smiling brightly.

“Only there weren’t enough of them,” Derek added.

Celia snuggled up next to Abner and opened her blue eyes as wide as she could. “I like the ones with pink icing the best of all,” she said. “Make sure to get lots of those.”

Abner sighed. Celia was the littlest, and it was hard to say no to her. But he hated crowds of strangers. And he was shy around grownups. They always asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he never knew how to answer.

Derek looked at him sideways. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Abner scowled. Of course he wasn’t scared.

“We’ll come with you part of the way,” Tate said.

“Oh, all right,” said Abner.

Laughter and the clink of glasses could be faintly heard two floors down. The four Willow children took off their shoes and tiptoed, sock-footed, down the stairs.

They stopped at the second-floor landing, which overlooked the entry hall. They could hear the party in the next room. A babble of adult voices swirled up the stairs.

Abner took a deep breath. He wasn’t scared. But what if someone bumped into him when he was carrying the plate of little cakes? He would drop them all and probably break the plate, too.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Derek.

“Don’t rush me.” Abner leaned over the banister for a better look. There was no one in the hall, but the kitchen door was open. Maybe there were extra cakes in the kitchen?

Abner ran down the stairs. He saw two trays of pink and white cakes on the kitchen counter. No one stopped him or even seemed to notice as he carried a tray up to the landing.

Tate, Derek, and Celia gave him a silent cheer and many pats on the back. They sat on the floor and each took a cake. Derek took two.

“We don’t need forks or plates,” Tate said. “Our hands are pretty clean.” Then she looked at Derek’s and changed her mind. “Mine are, anyway.”

Derek had found a way to keep crumbs from falling onto the floor. “If I tip my head back and hold the cake over my mouth, all the crumbs drop right into it,” he said.

The party was getting louder. Celia stopped in the middle of her fourth cake to listen. She heard lots of words she knew, like “willow,” “parade,” and “town.” But they were mixed in with words she didn’t know at all.

“Grown-ups always talk about things I can’t understand,” she said through a mouthful of crumbs. “It’s boring.”

Derek swallowed his sixth little cake and reached for a seventh. “Grown-up parties are boring, too. They all just stand around. They don’t play any games.”

“No games?” Celia was shocked. “Do they at least get goodie bags?”

Abner shook his head. “No goodie bags, no games, no pony rides, no magic tricks—”

“And no magic,” said Tate. “Not real magic. Not like the kind that happens to us.”

The others nodded. Magic had happened to them. Since they had moved to the house on Hollowstone Hill, it had happened twice. They weren’t sure it would ever happen again, but they had hopes.

“I just wish we knew how the magic worked,” said Abner. “It can get a little wild sometimes.”

Derek laughed. “Remember when Celia turned into a giant hamster?” He crinkled his nose and squeaked, making a hamster face.

“You should talk,” Celia said. “Remember how you couldn’t make the lawn mower stop? Now that was funny.”

Abner picked at a frayed spot on his shirt. He wished he knew more about it. He felt responsible for the others, and magic had almost gotten them into a lot of trouble.

They knew a little bit. They knew it came from somewhere underground. It could get into animals and even things, like lawn mowers. And it could be used up. But they never knew when the magic would happen, or what it would do. That made Abner nervous.

“Hey, Abs!” Tate pulled at Abner’s sleeve. “Listen! Someone is talking about you!”

The lady’s voice from the party room was loud and piercing. Abner stood up and leaned over the banister so he could hear every word.

“Abner Willow?” came the voice. “Your family is descended from General Abner Willow?”

Abner shrugged and looked back at the others. “They’re only talking about the guy in the painting,” he said. “You know, with the sword and the horse.”

They knew. Abner was named after an elderly relative who had been some kind of hero a long time ago. There was a painting of him in a museum, and a copy of it in a book somewhere. Their parents had shown it to the children. The children hadn’t been terribly interested.

All at once, some people came out of the party room with Mr. and Mrs. Willow. Abner took a step back so they wouldn’t see him. His heel bumped the cake tray and it made a loud clatter.

Everyone looked up.

“Why, here’s Abner now,” said their father. “Come down, son. I want you to meet someone.”

“Oh, my, he looks just like the general!” said a tall lady, clapping her hands.

Abner didn’t think he looked like the general at all. His nose wasn’t as big, and he didn’t have a sword or a horse. But it wouldn’t be polite to tell the lady she was wrong. He walked slowly down the stairs.

“Abner,” said his mother, “Mrs. Gofish tells us the town is having a parade. She thinks you can help.”

The tall lady smiled at Abner. “You could help a lot,” she said. “You see, every year at this time, our county has a festival we call Willow Days.”

Abner was surprised. “You named a festival after our family?”

Everyone laughed. Abner’s ears turned red.

“Willow Days isn’t named after our family,” his father explained. “It’s named after the big willow trees that line the river in town.”

“But it could be named after your family,” said Mrs. Gofish, “now that we know you’re related to a famous general in history. Why, he was practically born in this town!”

“Sixty miles away,” murmured Mr. Willow.

“Close enough,” said Mrs. Gofish, waving her hand. “I am sure he rode through town on his way to battle.” She gave Abner a big smile and patted his shoulder. “You are named after a very brave man.”

Abner nodded politely. He knew that. But he didn’t see what that had to do with a parade.

Mrs. Gofish began to explain. She talked very fast about something called a historical society. Abner didn’t know what that was. She talked about something called a grand marshal. Abner didn’t know what that was, either.

But he didn’t want to ask her. He already had asked one question, and the grown-ups had laughed. He wasn’t about to ask any more.

He stood on one leg and then the other, feeling hot and uncomfortable. He stared at his feet and wished he were somewhere else.

Then Mrs. Gofish said, “What do you say, Abner?”

The room grew quiet. Everyone was looking at him.

Abner didn’t want to say he hadn’t paid attention. He didn’t want to say he had no idea what she’d been talking about.

Mrs. Gofish smiled at him again. “Let me put it another way, Abner. Would you like to help your town?”

Abner was relieved. This was an easy question. “Sure,” he said. “I guess.”

She clapped her hands again. “Good! Then it’s settled.” She turned to Abner’s mother and began to talk very fast in a low voice.

Abner wondered what was settled. He heard the words “costume,” “sewing,” “Mrs. Delgado,” and “tomorrow.” But then all the grown-ups started talking at once. He backed away toward the stairs. His sisters and brother were waiting for him on the landing.

“Are you really going to lead the town parade?” Celia asked. “On a horse?” She hadn’t been able to understand everything, but she had understood that much.

“You’re lucky,” said Derek, who had understood a little more. “I wish I could wear a uniform and carry a sword.”

“I’m glad I’m not the one who has to pretend to be the general, though,” said Tate, who had understood almost everything. “I would hate to read a speech in front of the whole town.”

Abner’s mouth opened. He made a strangled sound.

Had he really agreed to do all that?

His knees felt funny and weak. He sat down suddenly.

Tate sat down next to him. “Don’t you want to do it?”

Abner shook his head. He kept on shaking it.

“But if you didn’t want to do it, then why did you say yes?” Derek asked.

Abner was embarrassed to say that he hadn’t really listened. He had been too busy worrying about all the people looking at him.

Celia had been watching her big brother with her thumb in her mouth. Now she took it out. “It’s hard to say no to a grown-up lady who smiles at you.”

This was very true. But it didn’t make Abner feel any better.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Tate.

“You’d better practice looking brave,” said Derek.

“And riding a horse,” said Celia.

The guests had all gone, and Mr. and Mrs. Willow were cleaning up after the party. Abner and Tate sat on the porch steps while Derek and Celia ran around in the dusk with a jar and a tennis racket. They were catching grasshoppers.

“You won’t catch many now,” called Tate. “It’s almost dark.”

“So? It’s still fun,” said Derek, stirring up the long grass with the edge of his racket. “There! I whacked one! Put it in the jar with the rest of them, Celia.”

“Where did it drop?” Celia’s voice floated out over the lawn in the soft summer night’s air. “I can’t see it.”

Derek moved toward the family’s vegetable garden. “Just feel on the ground for it,” he said. “Or get a flashlight. Dad will let you have one. He hates grasshoppers.”

Celia set her jar on the porch steps and ran into the house.

Abner screwed the lid on a little more tightly. The grasshoppers they had caught yesterday were already dead, but the new ones were still hopping a little. Mr. Willow would be happy to see the jar. He didn’t want grasshoppers eating the leaves in the vegetable garden.

“I’ll pay you to catch them for me,” he had said. “Two cents a grasshopper, dead or alive. And preferably dead.”

Grasshoppers were hard to catch. They would whir up between your feet with a clickety sound. Then they would bound off faster than you could grab them. When Abner did catch them, he hated the dry, crinkly feel of their wings and hard bodies. So he had come up with the idea of using a tennis racket to stun them.

It worked. But he still didn’t enjoy it. He was happy to let Derek and Celia earn the money. He was busy wondering what he could do about the parade.

“I’ve never been on a horse,” he told Tate. “I’m going to look stupid, dressed up like General Willow. And I really don’t want to read a speech.” He scowled. He wished more than ever that he understood how to work the magic on Hollowstone Hill. He could use some.

Tate tried to cheer him up. “But horses are nice, and you’ll look great in a uniform. You’re a good reader, too. What are you so worried about?”

Abner picked at a splinter on the porch steps. “What if I fall off the horse? What if I trip over my sword when I get up to read the speech? What if I stand there and nothing comes out when I try to talk?”

Tate didn’t know how to help him. “You’d better get used to the idea, fast,” she warned. “The parade is the day after tomorrow.”

Derek came up. “You can’t back out of it now,” he said. He spun his tennis racket on the bottom step.

“Well, you could,” said Tate. “But then you’d be breaking your promise.”

“Plus, everyone would know you were chicken,” said Derek.

“I’m not chicken,” Abner said. “I’m just—” He stopped. Was he chicken?

“Maybe you’re just a little bit chicken,” Tate said tactfully.

Derek stuck out his elbows and flapped as if he had wings. “Bwack buk buk buk!”

Abner didn’t appreciate the chicken noises. He socked Derek on the shoulder. Derek whacked him over the head. There was a pleasant scuffle for some minutes, ending with Abner sitting on top of Derek. “Take it back,” Abner said.

Derek wheezed. “Get … orf … me!”

“Not until you take back the chicken noises.” Abner was unmoving.

“Kub kub kub,” gasped Derek.

All of them understood that these were chicken noises, only backward, so Abner let Derek sit up.

“Now that that’s over with,” said Tate, who did not approve of violence, “I have an idea. What you need is bravery practice.”