Several days after the dance, the Petites invited the twins to spend the afternoon with their grandson, Jean-Philippe, who was visiting from Québec. It turned out Eleanor was free after school as well, since her mother no longer scheduled every minute of her day—not that she let Eleanor drop everything, but at least she had loosened up and allowed her to make some of her own choices.
Ms. Duncan rushed over to our lockers as we zipped up our jackets and loaded our backpacks. She was holding a clipboard.
“The first Paris Middle School Ping-Pong Club convenes tomorrow, girls, and I want the co-captains to be on time.”
“We’ll be there,” said Eleanor.
“Three p.m. on the dot!” added Ms. D as she hurried away to the next gym emergency.
“Got it, Coach!” I called down the hallway.
I had never called anyone Coach before, but I liked it.
Both Eleanor and I had been pretty surprised when Ms. Duncan asked us to be on the new team, and totally shocked when she asked us to be the captains. But it felt good. It made me realize—like everything else we’d been through lately—that a lot of stuff you think will happen doesn’t, and stuff you never thought would happen does. So it’s best to be open to anything and everything life throws at you, because you never know where it will take you next.
As we followed the crowd of kids toward the exit through the old wooden doors, I heard Mr. Tankhorn’s voice above the commotion.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Ms. LaRue.”
He was standing by the cafeteria, blowing his nose.
“That’s because I’m not tardy anymore, Mr. T!”
“Happy to hear that—they won’t put up with those shenanigans in high school!”
A half-foot of snow still covered the ground, but little signs of spring were everywhere. The days were much longer now, and birds sang from every tree.
We decided to walk into the village and stop by all our favorite places, starting with Dream Central. Someone was sitting at our old picnic table, which bothered me at first, but Eleanor pointed out that it would happen more often now that the weather was getting warmer. It was time to share it with others.
Across the street, we noticed the carpenters and painters working away on the new bakery, which was due to open as soon as Pop finished his last cross-country haul. Now he would be home all the time, working for Mim, his new boss.
We also dropped by the Treasure Chest to visit with Mrs. Wilder, who begged us to start up our business again, which we were thinking about doing over summer vacation, since Eleanor’s parents had agreed it would be okay—as long as it didn’t interfere with her brainiac activities and cello lessons.
Afterward, we moseyed over to The Avalanche, but unlike the old days when I would have polished off a large mocha ripple milkshake all by myself, Eleanor and I shared a raspberry yogurt smoothie instead.
As we sat at the little round table, sipping our pink drink together, Eleanor pulled something out of her pocket and showed it to me. Two notes.
“One for you. One for me. They were at the bottom of my locker.”
I unfolded the tiny yellow paper and read it out loud: “Hi, Ruby. I want you to know I am not that person you crashed into at Sugar Mountain. It was an accident, and I shouldn’t have let everyone blame you. I’m sorry. I hope we can be friends. JB Knox (P.S. Thanks for the hot chocolate by the fire.)”
I still wasn’t sure how I felt about JB, but I knew it took a lot of guts for him to write an apology like that. So maybe he would never be the love of my life, but at least we could try to be friends. I mean, who couldn’t use another friend in this crazy world?
“What does yours say?” I asked Eleanor.
She grinned like she was too embarrassed to read it, but I reminded her of the promise—that there would be no more secrets between us. She read: “Dear Eleanor—You were the prettiest girl at the Snow Ball. Maybe next year you’ll go with me? If not, Anton seems like a nice guy. I hope you two had a fun evening together. NA.”
“Aww, you should go with JB . . . that note is so sweet and wicked romantic.”
“Maybe,” she replied, “but I actually had a good time with Anton.”
Then Eleanor grinned and asked, “How about you, Ruby? Are you going to the Snow Ball again next year?”
I couldn’t help giggling. “Lance said he would take me every year for the rest of my life.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet and romantic!” cried Eleanor, and we laughed until we couldn’t laugh any longer.
After finishing up the smoothie we hurried off to our last stop, Wonderland’s Used Books. Eleanor immediately beelined over to the front shelf to check out the latest arrivals, while I wandered over to the community bulletin board.
And that’s when I saw it.
“Pssht, Eleanor!” I said, exactly the way she does when she wants my attention, except I think everyone in the store must have heard me.
Eleanor glanced over and squinted.
“Look!” I whispered as loudly as I could through my cupped hands.
She dropped her armful of books back on the shelf and rushed over.
I was so excited, I practically shouted the words out loud:
I’m telling you, the two of us squealed, then tore out of that store and down the sidewalk, turned right where the Dumpsters usually stood (but were mysteriously missing again!), past the wooden sign that read Apparition Way (which was mysteriously hanging again!), and up the mushy-snowy alley without saying a single word to one another.
We arrived in front of Madame Magnifique’s glowing entrance at exactly the same moment, both of us puffing large clouds of frosty breath into the bright, cool air.
“Bonjour, les filles!”
“BONJOUR!” we yelled together.
She was dressed exactly as she had been before, red feather and all, except she appeared shorter. But maybe we had grown a little taller?
“S’il vous plaît, come in, girls. Vite, vite! I have much to tell you.”
We followed her down the same narrow hallway (that still smelled like warm gingerbread) to the same table in the same back room, melting in golden light and velvet, exactly as it had been back in December!
“And you are—who?” she asked, tilting her head to one shoulder.
I was surprised she didn’t recognize us.
“We were here just a few months ago,” I said. “Don’t you remember? You told us our deepest dreams.”
“I see many, many faces, and you do look familiar. Did you want a refund?”
“No, our readings were free!” Eleanor blurted. “Plus, our dreams came true, just as you predicted.”
Madame M grinned. “Well, then, what can I do for you today?”
“For one thing,” I said, “we want to thank you for helping us with your magical powers.”
“It is my pleasure!” she said, her cheery cheeks blushing a deeper red. “Of course, I am pleased, but not astonished.”
“But also, Madame M,” I continued, “where in the world have you been? We’ve checked back, like, a hundred times, looking for you! We had so many questions and wanted your help.”
“Hmm, I do not know what you mean,” she said, pushing her bottom lip into a pout and scratching her forehead. “I had to make a stop for a manicure this afternoon, but then I returned here about a half-hour ago.”
Eleanor and I immediately turned to each other in amazement. Back in December, she had also mentioned a manicure appointment. What was going on?
“Mais, les filles! Since we were successful the first time, may I suggest new drrream readings, free of charge?”
Without skipping a beat, we both cried, “Oui!”
As before, the psychic began to hum loudly like a swarm of bees, and then gazed up at the ceiling, reaching her arms up overhead. Everything was a strange repeat of what had occurred at our first visit. Then she suddenly cut off her humming and arm-waving with a big smack on the edge of the table.
“Maintenant, I want you to place your hands flat, and you must lock your thumbs like this.”
We immediately copied her, our hands shaped like birds.
“Now, close your eyes and say these words: Stars and moons and worlds that beam, lead me to my deepest drrream!”
Staring at one another—half-scared, half-silly, as we had been the first time—we repeated the chant.
“Ouvrez!” she cried, and blew out the candles. “Open!”
The same sweet smoke clouded the space in front of us and Madame Magnifique squeezed the top of our bird-shaped hands . . . just as before.
“You!” she began, staring at me. “Once your creativity is unleashed, there will be no stopping you from realizing your fullest potential and achieving your deepest drrream.”
I felt my mouth drop open—not because I was amazed, but because I was confused!
“And you!” she said, now facing Eleanor. “In order to unlock your deepest drrream, you must go outside your world, to the unfamiliar, reaching far beyond your comfort zone.”
The exact same predictions as last time. Only reversed?
Madame Magnifique lifted her hands and blew across her fingers and palms like she did before, as if scattering magic dust.
Eleanor and I were in shock. We said nothing.
Could it be there had been no magic at all? No destiny? Was Madame Magnifique just a phony act?
Was it possible that we had achieved our goals all on our own?
We followed her back through the narrow gingerbread hallway and stumbled out the alley door into the late-afternoon light.
“Thank you,” we said at the same time.
The dream reader winked as she gave a tiny wave with the tips of her fingers.
“Rêvez bien! Dream well,” she replied, “Ruby and Eleanor.”