Stay a Spell Page 5

  “Excuse me,” he says to Aunt Katy. “I’m looking for a woman. She’s about forty, serious gray eyes, and she has a proclivity for wacky colorful scarves.”

  My inner warning bell starts to ding. This guy is describing Ms. Tremt to a T.

  “That sounds an awful lot like . . . ,” Daniel starts to say cluelessly.

  I decide a coughing fit is appropriate at the moment. Everyone looks at me, concerned, but I wave them off.

  “Haven’t seen her around here,” Aunt Katy says. “Have you tried one of the sets? There are always new people buzzing around them.”

  The guy taps his wristwatch repeatedly and furrows his eyebrows.

  “I’m positive she’s around here,” the guy adds nervously. “Right here.”

  “Well, she’s not,” Aunt Katy says, starting to sound stern.

  “We didn’t see anyone like that here,” I add firmly.

  Then I have a thought.

  “What did you say your name was anyway?” I ask, knowing he never said his name. “If we see someone who looks like that, we’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

  “No need for that, kid,” the guy says. “Sorry to waste your time. Have a nice day.”

  The guy scurries away as quickly as he came.

  “I don’t trust that guy,” Aunt Katy says, watching him leave. “Be careful, okay?”

  “We will,” I assure her. “I have a feeling he’s going to stick around here for a while anyway, and we’re heading in the opposite direction.”

  “Okay, well, catch you on the flip side,” Aunt Katy says.

  “Right, catch you on the, um, flip side,” Abby says awkwardly.

  When Aunt Katy closes the door, we all look at one another and shrug our shoulders.

  “Flip side.” Daniel laughs. “What’s that about?”

  “I have no idea,” I answer.

  I do have an idea about the guy we just met, though. I’m just not ready to tell Daniel and Abby yet. I know because I saw the initials “TR” stamped on his briefcase.

  “Tim Raveltere,” I whisper to myself. “And so we meet.”

  That was weird,” Daniel says as he shakes his head. “Didn’t it sound like that guy was describing Ms. Tremt?”

  “He was,” I reply. “I think it has something to do with the pendant.”

  “The one you left with the other jewelry?” Abby asks. “I knew there was something going on with it!”

  She gives me a little punch on the arm, as if to say, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I fill Abby and Daniel in on the details. I tell them I have no idea why Ms. Tremt wanted me to leave the pendant in 1977, just that she did. I also tell them about the initials “TR” and the name Ms. Tremt wrote on her pad and said aloud before we walked into the portal.

  “Do you really think he’s looking for Ms. Tremt?” Abby asks.

  “I do,” I admit. “I don’t know what he wants, but I don’t think it’s good.”

  “So that’s the small change, then?” Abby wonders. “That’s why Ms. Tremt asked you to come here instead of going back to the spelling test? So you could drop the pendant.”

  “I guess so,” I say. “I mean, I did get to help Aunt Katy out, but I don’t think that’s a big deal really.”

  “Well, there’s not really anything we can do about that mysterious guy,” Daniel says. “I mean, Ms. Tremt isn’t here, so she has nothing to worry about. Right?”

  “Right,” Abby agrees. “We should just head to the record shop while we still have time.”

  “I don’t know, guys.” I sigh. “I think we should follow Tim Raveltere—if that is Tim Raveltere—and see what he’s up to. He’s super shady.”

  “Even if I thought that was a good idea,” Abby starts, “what are we going to tell people when they ask us why we’re walking around a movie studio?”

  “We could be kid actors,” Daniel suggests. “That’s what Katy told Edna, remember?”

  “Great idea!” I say. “If anyone asks, we’re just kid actors who wandered away from the set of the movie.”

  “What movie?” Abby wonders. “You know someone’s going to ask.”

  “I don’t know, but we can always say they haven’t decided on a title for it yet,” I reply. “Since we’re not supposed to really interact with anyone, let’s try to keep on the down low.”

  “ ‘Time Spies!’ ” Daniel says. “I like the sound of that!”

  Abby and I agree that it does sound pretty sweet. We look around for a spot where we can lie low until Tim Raveltere comes back. I know he’s coming back. It’s the pendant, I’m sure of it, and I know he’ll be back to find it.

  We see a couple of workers building a set close to the costume studio and we decide to stick around there for a bit. You know how my mom was saying that Einstein said time is relative? I believe it. If I were standing around waiting for someone back home, I know it would have felt like an eternity. But watching all the crazy characters walking around Galaxian Studios? Time just flies!

  First some animal trainers lead a group of camels right past us. Then a squad of actors dressed like Civil War soldiers march by, followed by the biggest pumpkin coach I have ever seen—to be honest, the only pumpkin coach I had ever seen in real life.

  “That must be for a Cinderella movie!” Abby gushes.

  “You think?” I laugh. “It’s definitely not for Night of the Living Gourds.”

  It’s a good thing we’re watching the coach closely, though, because otherwise we would have missed Tim Raveltere, dressed as Prince Charming, tiptoe out of the coach and into Aunt Katy’s fashion studio.

  He comes out five minutes later holding something shiny in his hand.

  “Ms. Tremt’s pendant!” I gasp.

  If Tim Raveltere has a plan for what to do with the pendant, we couldn’t figure it out from his actions. He actually looks pretty lost and confused. He keeps looking at the pendant, and his watch, and tapping them.

  The gears in my logical brain are starting to grind. I’m thinking the pendant must be some kind of tracking device. As Abby mentioned, the pendant was pretty new. Ms. Tremt just got the pendant and suddenly she was acting all “who’s hiding around the corner” and stuff. Weird things were happening with The Book of Memories. And she sent us here, to 1977, even though the time period was supposed to be my choice.

  Clearly Tim Raveltere thought Ms. Tremt would be here, in 1977 Hollywood, at Galaxian Studios—not just her jewelry. He was looking for her.

  “Ms. Tremt definitely wanted to get rid of the pendant,” I say to Abby and Daniel. “I think she discovered that the pendant was actually a way for Tim Raveltere to track her down. I don’t know why she’s hiding from him, but I’m pretty convinced that she is.”

  We watch as Tim checks the pendant a few more times and then begins to sneak around the studio. He prowls around an old Western town, so we do, too. The funny thing is that most of the buildings aren’t buildings at all, just a flat front that is propped up by some poles. Then Tim goes into a building, so we go in too. It looks like an empty hospital, but again, a lot of the props are, well, props. They’re made of cardboard and tape and aren’t at all like the real thing when you look at them up close. We visit a few city scenes—Paris, New York, and Chicago. Best of all, caterers are busy setting up a catering table in Chicago. Since they think we’re actors, they offer us some freshly baked cookies. We don’t want to blow our cover, so we’re forced to eat them. It was rough, ha-ha.

  Even rougher, though, is that while we’re hanging around Chicago eating cookies, the director shows up and tries to put us to work.

  “You’re the extras, right?” he shouts at us. “What are you waiting for? We’ve been looking for you!”

  Daniel, Abby, and I pretend to follow him, but as soon as we can, we jump into a golf cart and duck. In a few minutes the director is out of sight, but so is Tim Raveltere.

  “What are we going to do now?” Daniel asks. “This place is huge. H
e could be anywhere by now. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “You’re right,” I admit. “But there must be a clue somewhere.”

  “You know, Ms. Tremt did tell us to go to Crane’s,” Abby says. “Maybe that is a clue. There has to be a reason she wants us there.”

  It sounds logical to me. So that’s where we head.

  Now comes the part where Daniel loses his mind, and his cool, if he ever had any. It turns out there’s a movie theater right across the street from Crane’s. The marquee shows the movie title in gigantic letters. It’s funny too, because there’s only one movie playing at this theater, not six like the theater back home.

  Daniel starts to point at the marquee and jump up and down. He’s making noises that don’t actually sound human. They would fit right into a movie about life on alien planets, though.

  “Daniel, are you okay?” Abby asks.

  “EEP-AACK-ZORK-GLOBBADA!” Daniel replies.

  I grab Daniel by the shoulders and shake him.

  “Get ahold of yourself, Daniel!” I yell. “It’s just a movie.”

  Daniel starts to shake and breathe heavily. I wouldn’t be surprised if next his shirt rips open and he transforms into some hulking green monster. I mean, if time travel is possible, why not? He gives me a withering look.

  “Just . . . a . . . movie?” Daniel hiss-whispers. “Just . . . a . . . movie?

  “JUST A MOVIE?” he shouts. “Jada, you’re my best friend, but you have no idea what you’re talking about. Star Wars is not just a movie. Star Wars is an epic work of art. It’s life changing. It takes you out of this world and into another universe. As soon as the words ‘A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away,’ appear on-screen, you are taken away—away from homework and chores and spelling tests and straight into the greatest, most thrilling battle between the forces of good and evil. Trust me, the feelings you get watching this movie are not like any other feelings you’ve ever had. It is one-of-a-kind experience.”

  “Um, does that mean that you like it?” Abby laughs.

  Daniel gives her a friendly shove.

  “If we just had a few more hours!” Daniel cries. “I could see it here—in one of the original showings in 1977. These people had no idea how epic the movie they were about to see actually was!”

  I point to the guy dressed up in the Darth Vader outfit waiting in line to buy a ticket.

  “I think you might be wrong about that, Daniel.” I laugh.

  I don’t share Daniel’s love for the movie, but I do love my friend, and my heart hurts a little for him. I wish we had enough time to watch the movie with Daniel. But my logical brain knows we don’t, so Abby and I shove him through the doors of Crane’s Record Store.

  It feels like we have traveled to a whole new universe when we step inside the store. I’ve never seen anything like it in the present, but it is obviously a very popular place in 1977.

  Records. Vinyl. LP. It’s not like I’m totally clueless. I kind of know what a record is, and I think my grandmother might still have some in her attic. Here’s the down low: Once upon a time, before you could buy a song with a click of your touch pad, music was stored on flat black vinyl disks, about the size of a Frisbee. The disks were stored in square cardboard folders called album covers, which could look pretty wild and artistic.

  Every inch of Crane’s is filled with records. Most are stored in bins so you can flip through them easily. The store is organized so it’s easy to find what you want. The rows of bins are labeled according to the musical genre, and in each genre the records of the musical artists are in alphabetical order. There are other albums on display, new releases that are being promoted, “manager’s specials,” and the most popular records.

  But it seems like Crane’s experience is more than just “run into the store, grab the record you want, and pay for it.” It is definitely a place for music lovers to hang out. The salespeople all look young and cool, and they are really into their jobs. We watch them talking to customers, asking about their musical tastes and making suggestions.

  “Dude, you have to check out The Clash,” a guy with a ripped-up T-shirt tells one customer. “Your mind will be blown. Promise.”

  The customers in the store are as interesting as the album covers. There are punk rockers with studded leather belts. Glam rockers with sparkly makeup and shiny clothes. Disco queens in high heels and sequins. Funky fashionistas who look like they might have raided Aunt Katy’s closet.

  Abby and Daniel agree that Crane’s is awesome. We linger in the rows of records. Music blares in every nook and cranny of the store. When a new song starts with the sound of chimes and some “wooo oooh ooohs,” the salesclerks jump into a line and shout, “Do the Hustle!”

  Some of the customers follow the order and line up in the rows of the store. Abby, Daniel, and I stand and stare with our mouths open as we watch them roll their hands and step forward and back, then side to side. Everyone seems to know just what to do!

  “Come on!” a girl with big rose-colored glasses calls to us. “Do the Hustle!”

  “Um, what’s that?” I ask.

  “Have you been living in a cave?” The girl laughs.

  “No, we go to a really tough school, so we have to study all the time,” Abby bluffs. “We don’t get out much.”

  “Unbelievable!” the girl says, as she points to the guy with the ripped T-shirt. “Even Steve knows the Hustle. Although he’d probably drink sour milk before he was caught dead doing it.”

  The girl, whose name is Rosa, tells us to follow her moves. Four steps back, then clap. Four steps forward, clap. Then a series of moves called the “Rolling Grapevine,” “Eggbeater,” and “The Chicken.” I’m going to leave those to your imagination.

  While I’m in the middle of doing an Eggbeater, who should walk into the store but my Aunt Katy.

  “Hi!” I call to her while still dancing. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m just meeting my mom here before we go to lunch,” Aunt Katy says. “And here she is.”

  When Aunt Katy says her mom, it takes me a minute to realize she’s talking about my grandmother. Gran doesn’t look like the person who makes me mac and cheese and washes my clothes for me, though. She’s superfly!

  Gran looks so cool it’s hard not to stare. Flowery crop top, denim miniskirt, and the most fantastic pair of silver knee-high boots. I’m going to have to make a trip up to her attic when I get back to see if she still has those stashed away somewhere.

  “This is my mom, Brenda,” Aunt Katy says. “She doesn’t get out much anymore with my little sister at home, but my sister’s at a friend’s house today.” Katy turns to her mother. “Looking good, Mom.” She laughs. “Much better than that housedress you’ve been wearing all day every day.”

  “Well, there’s only room for one diva in a family,” Brenda says. “And you’re our diva, Katy.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Daniel and Abby interrupt, both of their eyes open as wide as they can get. They know my gran, and I can tell from their expressions they’re in shock too.

  “So you guys danced to the Hustle?” Brenda says. “What other kinds of music do you like?”

  “Um—not Billy Joel?” Abby says, remembering Aunt Katy’s warning.

  Both Aunt Katy and Gran crack up.

  “How about soul?” Brenda asks. “Funk?”

  “We study a lot,” Daniel says. “We don’t know a lot about music.”

  Brenda calls Rosa over. I can tell that they’re friends, and Rosa is happy to cater to her requests.

  “We need to give these kids a quick lesson,” Brenda tells Rosa. “Can you play a few songs for me?”

  “Sure,” Rosa says. “What am I playing?”

  “ ‘Shining Star’ by Earth, Wind, and Fire,” Brenda says. “And then ‘Don’t Leave Me This Way’ by Thelma Houston.”

  “Got it,” Rosa says.

  It’s impossible not to dance to the beats of the songs. The whole store turns
to watch as Aunt Katy and Gran show off their moves. The last time I saw them dance was at my cousin George’s wedding, and they definitely didn’t move like that! They are amazing.

  “I was on Soul Train last year,” Aunt Katy tells us with a proud grin.

  We have no idea what she’s talking about, and it obviously shows.

  “These kids are a little clueless.” Rosa laughs. “Soul Train. It’s a musical television show where they play the latest tunes and everyone dances.”

  “Got it,” Abby says. “Sounds . . . funky.”

  We all laugh at the way Abby says “funky.”

  I would really like to hang out with 1977 Gran and Aunt Katy until the end of our time here, but I know time is running out and we still need to search the record store for clues. I say good-bye to Gran and Aunt Katy.

  “It was nice to meet you,” Gran says to me.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I reply. “Thanks for the music lesson.”

  Aunt Katy leans in to give me a hug.

  “Thanks again for saving my back,” she whispers.

  “It was nothing,” I whisper back.

  Once Aunt Katy and Gran are gone, it is back to the task at hand.

  “This record store is amazing,” Abby says, “but I don’t see any clues about Tim Raveltere. Where would we even start to look?”

  I pull Ms. Tremt’s cheat sheet from my pocket. I remembered she mentioned some of the most popular music from 1977.

  “Ms. Tremt’s sheet mentions Rod Stewart, Fleetwood Mac, and the Bee Gees,” I say. “So let’s start in those sections.”

  Abby heads off to find Rod Stewart, I take Fleetwood Mac, and Daniel takes the Bee Gees. It takes only a few seconds before Daniel starts waving a piece of paper and calling to us.

  “It’s a clue,” Daniel says. “Actually, more like a warning.”

  I take the paper from him.

  Do not let Tim Raveltere get ahold of The Book of Memories

  UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES!

  I pat my back pocket just to make sure the book is still there, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It is. And Tim Raveltere is nowhere in sight.