SEVENTEEN

Atticus had a concussion and two broken ribs. That stupid boy was going to live.

The doctors were making him stay in the hospital for the rest of the weekend. Mom said they liked to keep an eye on people with head injuries and Atticus had landed on his head. I had landed on my head, too, when I fell off the fence, but I felt just fine. My mom drove me to the hospital anyway—just to be on the safe side.

Turns out my head was okay. But my heart was still hurting. I asked my mom if we could wait to see Atticus.

We sat in the waiting room for about an hour. I looked at magazines and started picking at the scab that was forming around my elbow. Evidently, I fell on my head and my elbow. It was funny how I didn’t remember falling off the fence. I do remember Charlie licking me, though. And Pop-pop picking me up and carrying me to the farmhouse.

Mrs. Brightwell came into the waiting room to give us an update on Atticus’s condition. He was sore and it hurt him to cough, but he was going to be fine. My mom left to get them some coffee but Mrs. Brightwell didn’t go anywhere. She stayed right there with me.

That was weird.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. I watched as she sat down in one of the waiting room chairs across from me.

“I want to thank you for today,” she said. “I don’t know how you showed up when you did, but you saved my boy. That bull could have killed him. I owe you, Avalon.”

“That’s okay,” I said. She had never talked to me like this before. It was all very strange.

“Avalon, I have to admit something to you,” she said. “I need to fess up.” She paused before continuing. “When you and Atticus had your falling-out, I was actually relieved. I was. I thought he needed more friends. I thought he needed different friends. I thought that you weren’t good for him.”

“I know,” I said.

She looked surprised, like she didn’t expect me to say that. Or to know that. But I did.

“It’s always scared me, how you sometimes act before you think,” she continued. “I know it can get you in trouble. And I was afraid it would get Atticus in trouble, too.” Mrs. Brightwell cleared her throat, like maybe she was getting choked up, then said, “But here’s the thing, Avalon. You didn’t think about what you did today. You just did it. You ran in front of that bull without thinking about yourself. You were just going to save Atticus—no matter what happened. And in this case, I’m really glad you did.”

After all this time, I finally knew why she didn’t like me.

“But—” she added.

Uh-oh.

“I have to tell you I did something that I am now very ashamed of. And I hope you will forgive me.” Mrs. Brightwell reached in her purse and pulled out an envelope. She handed it to me. It had my name on it.

It was my invitation to Atticus’s birthday party. “I didn’t mail it,” she said. “Atticus doesn’t know. He would be furious with me. And he should be.”

I opened the invitation and looked at it. I realized I had been invited to his birthday party all along. There was a note in there, too. I pulled it out and started to read.

Dear Avie,

It’s me. Atticus. Caroline told me what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault. It just freaked me out and I got really mad.

Please come to my birthday party. It will be fun.

If you say yes, I will know you want to speak to me again. So please say yes!

I’m sorry.

Will you still be my best friend?

From,

your best friend,

Atticus

My heart felt much better.

“Today, I realized something, Avalon,” Mrs. Brightwell said. “I want Atticus to have lots of friends in his life. But one of them should always be you. He needs you.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“And I didn’t see any of those boys running in there to save him,” she said, smiling back at me. “I’m so sorry. I just worry about him too much, I guess.”

I was suddenly feeling bolder, like I could ask her anything. So I did. “Why do you worry about him all the time?” I asked.

She looked at me. I could tell she didn’t have a good answer. “Because Atticus is the best person I know,” I said. “How could you worry about somebody like that? He’ll always be okay. And if he’s not, he’ll have you and me and Caroline to make sure of it.” I looked at her real hard—the way Pop-pop had looked at me—and said, “Atticus is Atticus, Mrs. Brightwell. Nobody can ever change that.”

She grabbed a tissue out of her handbag and wiped one of her eyes. I heard her sniff just like her son. Finally, she said, “You want to come see him?”

We walked into Atticus’s hospital room together. He had a bandage around his ribs and a big black bruise under his eye. I walked over to the bed.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime. You would have done the same for me.”

“Yeah. I would have,” he said. Then Atticus grinned at me—for the first time in two whole months.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the envelope in my hand. I held up the birthday invitation.

“Oh, yeah. It’s your birthday invitation. Can you believe I only got it today? That’s why I was so late for your party.” I was such a good liar sometimes. I looked at Mrs. Brightwell. I could tell she wanted to shake her head at me, but she only smiled. “I think I’ll go find your mom and that coffee,” she said. “Give you two a chance to catch up.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Atticus said.

“Thanks, Mrs. Brightwell,” I added.

Mrs. Brightwell left the room and it got awfully quiet.

“I’m so sorry, Atticus,” I finally said.

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Caroline told me everything. Did you read my letter?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I was just so embarrassed and freaked out,” he said. “I kind of lost it.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I would have been mad, too.”

“Yeah, but it all worked out.”

“What do you mean?”

“It turns out I wasn’t the only one. There are a few of us fifth-grade bed wetters and we kind of made a club.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Cool,” I said. “So who’s in the club?”

Atticus raised his eyebrow at me. “Like I’m going to tell you that?” he said, and grinned. “But it’s gotten better, though. Mom and I sort of came to a truce about it. And that helped. Or maybe it was just my Infinity Year that cured me.”

He smiled at me and I smiled back. For a moment, we settled in to being best friends again.

Then I said, “I think I got mine. You know—my Infinity Year power. Right there in the pasture.”

Atticus beamed. “I know you did. Mom said you ran faster than Frank. She said she couldn’t believe that you could run that fast.” He tried to lean forward, but I could tell it hurt his ribs. “Remember when you said you didn’t want your power to be running fast or anything like that?”

“When did I say that?”

“I don’t know. You said it, though.”

“Well, I guess I changed my mind,” I said. “But it wasn’t just the running.”

“What was it, then?”

“I spoke to Frank. With my mind.”

Atticus looked totally intrigued.

“I told him to follow me, to leave you alone. And he listened to me. And I didn’t say a word.”

“Whoa,” Atticus said. “That’s a great power!”

“I know. Right?” Then something occurred to me. “Did you dream about petting Frank before you really did it?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because that’s the kind of dumb dream that would get you into this mess,” I said. “What happened in the dream anyway?”

“I don’t know. I woke up before I actually reached him.”

I laughed. That was the stupidest thing I ever heard. It was probably a good thing Atticus’s Infinity Year was over. Before one of his dreams actually killed him.

“That’s quite a shiner, boy.” I turned around and saw Pop-pop standing at the end of Atticus’s bed.

“Pop-pop!” Atticus said.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Atticus.

“I’m okay,” Atticus said.

Then he looked at me. “And how about you, our little hero?”

I blushed. “I’m okay, too.”

“Well, just checking to be sure you both are in one piece,” he said. “You had me a little worried this afternoon.”

Atticus and I looked at each other and smiled. Then Atticus’s eyes got real wide. “Pop-pop!” he exclaimed. “Can you tell us now?”

It took me less than a second to understand what he meant. “Yes, please!” I chimed in. “We want to know about your Infinity Year.”

Pop-pop grinned. “Huh,” he said. “You want to hear about my magical power.”

“Come on,” Atticus cried. “I’m eleven. You can tell me now.”

Pop-pop looked at me. “Avalon’s still ten. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.

“Please!” I said. “Please!”

“All right, then. Today I will make an exception,” he said, and looked behind him to be sure nobody else was listening.

“Okay,” he said. “My magical power wasn’t like my grandpa’s. Grandpa Daniel could make himself invisible for most of his tenth year. Being invisible sounded pretty neat to me when I was ten.”

“Me too,” I said quietly.

“But no, mine was a onetime thing. My best friend, Jimmy, and I were at the lake. It was a spring day, much like today was. We were having fun—like boys will do. There were a bunch of us there. Jimmy and I decided to be hotshots, so we climbed up on some high rocks above the other boys. We were going to jump off into the water. Jimmy jumped first. But instead of jumping, dumb Jimmy thought he should dive in. So he did.

“You kids know you’re never supposed to dive into lake water because in most lakes you can’t see to the bottom. This lake was no exception. Jimmy dove in but he didn’t come up.”

“What did you do?” Atticus asked, very concerned for Jimmy.

“I jumped in after him,” Pop-pop said. “But once I got under that water, I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t see Jimmy. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I finally came back to the surface, and Jimmy still hadn’t come up for air. And that’s when I remembered it was my Infinity Year. I knew there was a magical power somewhere inside me. I was just praying it was going to come out on that very day. So I took in a deep breath and went back down under.”

I looked at Atticus. We really did know that Jimmy was going to be okay because he was a grown man now. He was Pop-pop’s age. But, still, we were worried.

“I stayed under that water until I found Jimmy and pulled him up,” Pop-pop continued. “The other boys said we were down there for a really long time. They were scared we both were drowned.”

“But you weren’t?” Atticus asked.

“Nope, we weren’t,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “Funny, I got my magical power for only one afternoon. I was able to hold my breath long enough to save my best friend. That was enough magic to last me a lifetime.”

I nodded. I pictured that day on the lake. I saw Pop-pop pulling Jimmy out of the water. “What was Jimmy’s magical power?” I asked.

“Jimmy hit his head on a rock,” Pop-pop said, then looked at Atticus. “So I’d say Jimmy’s magical power was that he lived.”