Leap Day (15 page)

5. No money shall be spent with the exception of gas.

6. Judging will begin at 6 p.m. sharp at Jenny Waxner’s house. Any latecomers will be disqualified. In case of a tie, the victory will go to whichever team completed the hunt first.

7. Bonus points will be given for creativity and especially hard-to-find items.

Prizes:

“Aren’t all those boy band guys old and married now?” Zoey asks. “Why would we want to have dinner with them?”

“Maybe we’d get to be on MTV,” Megan says, pulling the pages out of the printer. “But if we don’t get organized and get moving, we won’t even get the free dinner at Sizzler.” She hands the list to Katy, the natural choice to lead us.

“Okay,” Katy says, whipping out a red pen. “I’ll be the list-keeper. I’ll tell us what we still need and cross off the items we’ve found. Josie is the driver. Zoey, you’ll be the time-keeper. Every ten minutes you’ll update us on how much longer until we have to get to Jenny’s.”

“What do I do?” Megan asks. “Stand here and look pretty?” Katy taps her pen against the desk in thought. “You’ll be the motivator. You’ll keep us moving. I’ll read the list now, and everyone jump in if you know where we can find something.”

“As the motivator,” Megan says, “I think we should just get going.”

“If we spend five minutes now, we’ll save ourselves a lot of extra running-around time.”

“Fine. Just tell us what’s on the list.”

“Okay. Each item has a point value, with the hardest-to-find items having the most points. To start with, we need something with four legs.”

“Right here,” I say, plucking Katy’s stuffed Garfield from her pillow.

“Good,” Katy said, crossing that item off the list with a flourish. “There’s an old duffle bag from camp in my closet. Let’s put everything in there.”

I pull out the dusty green duffle and stick Garfield inside. “Next is something that’s been dead for over a year. Hmm. That’s pretty weird.”

“There’s a dead bee that’s been stuck in the screen of my bedroom window since last summer,” Zoey offers.

“I have a better idea,” Megan announces. “Fang.”

“My cat?” Zoey asks, confused. Then, “Oh no, you mean his ashes?”

“It’s perfect!”

Zoey looks at me for support. “It
is
creative,” I admit. “We may need those bonus points in the end.”

“Fang would want to help,” Katy says. “He was that kind of cat.”

Zoey gives a long sigh and says, “All right. But I’m not just throwing his tin in that duffle. Someone has to hold it at all times.”

“Fine,” Katy says, and crosses it off the list.

Zoey looks at her watch. “An hour and fifty minutes.”

“Next are a bunch of things we can find right here. Something three different shades of white — hey, that could be you, Zoey!”

“Very funny,” Zoey says.

Katy continues. “Something hot, something cold, something that uses electricity, a photograph of two people kissing, letterhead from a university, a model of a spaceship, a half-eaten burrito, the picture of President George W. Bush pardoning the Thanksgiving turkey in 2001, two identical organic (non-manmade) things, a menu from Donald’s Hot Dog Hut at Magic Kingdom, and a weekly newspaper from the town of Celebration.”

“Gee, is that all?” Megan asks sarcastically. “How are we supposed to do all that in less than two hours?”

“There are bonus items too,” Katy says, turning the page. “An extra twenty points if we bring in either an undergarment from a teacher at Orlando High, a copy of the
Kama Sutra,
or a bottle of Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific shampoo. Remember, we’re not allowed to buy anything from a store.”

“What’s the
Kama Sutra?
” I ask. “And didn’t they stop making that shampoo when we were like, six?”

“The
Kama Sutra
is an ancient sex manual,” Zoey explains. “That will be easy to get.”

“How will that be easy?” Katy asks.

Zoey grins. “My brother has it under his bed.”

“Your brother is being very helpful today,” Megan says, nodding appreciatively.

“What do you mean?” I ask. I’ve never heard of Dennis being anything but a pain in the butt.

“Oh, nothing,” Megan says quickly. “Just that now we’ll get all those bonus points.”

“Tick tick tick,” Zoey says loudly.

Katy scrambles into gear. She tells Zoey and Megan to go next door for Fang’s ashes and the sex book, and sends me downstairs while she looks up the George Bush picture online. In the kitchen, I grab a zip-lock bag and mix salt, flour, and sugar. Voilà! Three different shades of white. Something is nagging at the back of my brain, but I can’t think what it is. Anyway, I need to focus right now. A can of Coke from the fridge wrapped in layers of tin foil will have to do as the something cold. My last item to find is the flashlight Katy’s dad keeps in the garage. She figures when you turn it on, that will be the something hot. Katy’s very smart that way. I run upstairs to dump my items in the duffle.

“Throw in my clock radio too,” Katy instructs me, pounding away on her keyboard. “For something that uses electricity.”

I unplug the clock and stick it next to the stuffed Garfield so it won’t get banged around too much. Megan and Zoey still aren’t back yet. I finally have a chance to talk to Katy alone.

“You’ve got to tell me now, about the note. You’re killing me here.”

Katy stops typing and slowly turns in her seat. Just then Megan and Zoey run breathlessly into the room, and Katy quickly turns back to her computer. Crap. The moment has passed. Zoey sits down on the bed and cradles the purple tin of ashes in her arms.

“There are some bizarre pictures in this book,” Megan says, flipping through the well-worn paperback. She turns the book upside down. “I didn’t think the body could move that way.”

“Later, okay?” Katy says, snatching the book from Megan’s hands. She retrieves the Bush/turkey picture from the printer, sticks it between the pages of the book, and tosses the book in the ever-expanding bag.

“What now?” Zoey asks.

Katy looks down at her list. “I can use my mother’s Disney passes to get us into the park for the menu, and then from there we can go to Celebration for the newspaper. The other little stuff we can try to find on the way.”

“Maybe your mother can just get us the menu,” Megan suggests. “Then we can spend more time on the rest.”

Katy shakes her head. “No parental involvement. It’s in the rules.”

“Do you always have to follow the rules?” Zoey asks, already knowing Katy won’t budge.

And then it hits me. “Uh-oh,” I say, sinking to the bed. “I don’t have the car. Rob drove it home after school while we were at the audition.”

Three mouths fall open. Katy hands me the phone. “Call Rob and see if he’s home.”

My mother answers and tells me Rob is out doing Dart Wars, which I had forgotten all about.

Zoey whispers, “Ask her if you can borrow her car.”

I shake my head and hang up. “She’s leaving to pick up my dad’s parents for dinner.”

“How about your dad then?” Katy asks.

“Not there either,” I say. He’s apparently still among the missing. “Then we’ll take my mother’s minivan,” Katy announces. “It’s in the garage, and plus, the extra room will be helpful once we have all the stuff with us.”

“That thing is huge!” I argue. “How am I supposed to drive it?” Megan pats me on the back. “You’ll do fine.”

“I’m not taking it without asking your mother first.” I bet she’ll say no and I’ll get out of it. Who would want their teenage daughter’s friend to drive their car around town on the very first day she has her license?

“Fine,” Katy says, dialing her mother’s work number. “But I’m telling you she won’t mind.” She presses the speakerphone button so we can all hear.

“Rides and Attractions,” the young woman on the other end says perkily. You have to be perky to work at Disney. It’s a requirement.

Katy asks for her mother.

“She had to go out to the site,” the woman replies. “I’ll connect you.”

A few seconds later Katy’s mother’s voice comes on. “Small World,” she says, sounding much more stressed than perky. In the background we can hear that ever-present recording, “There is just one moon and one golden sun, and a smile means friendship to everyone....”

“Mom, it’s Katy.”

“Hi, honey,” she says hurriedly. “Can’t talk long. Some kid leaned over the boat and drank the water. Now he’s running around the displays yelling, ‘I am the Lizard King.’ His mother says he saw it on a
Simpsons
episode.”

Megan covers her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Stop him,” Katy’s mom yells in the background. “He’s knocking over the dolls! Do you know how much those things cost to repair?” Then, “Katy, can I call you back?”

“I just need to know if we can borrow your minivan. Josie has her license now and we have the scavenger hunt today.”

“Fine. The keys are hanging in the laundry room. Uh-oh, the kid is throwing up now. Gotta go.” The phone clicks off and Katy hangs up.

“Wow,” Zoey says. “Your mom has a really cool job.”

“Let’s go,” Katy says, ignoring my little whimpering noises. We get the keys and climb into the car. Megan stuffs the duffle in the far back. I examine the dashboard and finally accept the fact that it’s not very different from my dad’s or the car at the DMV, except that everything is larger and the front of the car slopes down. I twist the key in the ignition and, to my relief, it sputters and dies.

“I guess we’ll have to find someone else to drive us,” I say, trying to sound sad.

“Try again,” Katy urges. “It just needs to warm up. She doesn’t drive it that often.”

I turn it again, and this time it purrs to life. Rats. I slowly back out of the garage. I feel like I’m driving a school bus.

“Ninety minutes left,” Zoey announces from behind me. “Can you speed up there a little, Grandma?”

“If I get a ticket of any kind,” I tell them as we head down the street, “we split it four ways.” It is very strange to be riding with my friends without a parent present. I glance in the rearview mirror and see that Zoey has the purple tin on her lap. She and Megan have strapped themselves in. Probably a good idea.

“How are you feeling?” Katy asks. “You’re doing an excellent job. Not swaying nearly as much as you usually do.”

“I sway?” I turn my head toward her, and a car honks at me for coming too close to the other lane. I swerve back and almost go into the oncoming traffic. Katy holds onto the dashboard for dear life.

“Hey, eyes on the road up there,” Megan says, a little shakily. “Sorry.”

We stop at a light, where a mother with a baby carriage crosses in front of us.

“That’s ten points!” Zoey says, leaning forward between Katy and me.

Katy looks down at her list. “Huh?”

“No, not in the scavenger hunt! It’s something my brother taught me. If you hit a baby carriage it’s ten points, an old man is five points, things like that.”

“That’s a great game,” Katy says. “Your brother needs professional help.”

“True,” Zoey agrees, leaning back.

“And I don’t think Josie needs any more incentive to hit things,” Megan whispers.

“I heard that,” I tell her, pulling in the front gate of the Magic Kingdom.

Luckily the car has Katy’s mother’s employee-parking sticker on it, so we pull up to a special toll booth. The woman inside leans out, sees the sticker, and is about to wave us through when she says, “Wait, are you old enough to drive?”

The others giggle and I sigh, pulling my new license out of my pocket and handing it to her. She looks at it and hands it back.

“Sorry,” she says. “You look younger.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Well, don’t let it bother you. When you’re my age you’ll love it when people say you don’t look your age.” I don’t tell her I’ve heard that a hundred times from everyone older than twenty-one. She presses a button and the orange arm lifts. I drive into the employee-parking lot, where luckily we won’t have to wait for a tram.

“Does anyone know where this Donald’s Hut place is?” Zoey asks as we pile out and run toward the front entrance.

“It’s in Fantasyland,” Katy says. She’s by far the most Disney-educated of all of us. She hands the ticket-taker the free passes, and he lets us in. We run down Main Street toward Cinderella Castle, which leads straight into Fantasyland.

“Why isn’t it called
Cinderella’s
Castle?” Megan asks. “You know, as in belonging to Cinderella?”

“No one knows,” Katy answers. “But if you call it Cinderella’s Castle the people who work here get very upset.”

I vow that if I get the Snow White gig, I will let the guests call the castle anything they darn well please. We run through the castle and past the huge carousel. Donald Duck’s big head suddenly looms in front of us. The restaurant is one of those outdoor ones where you walk up to a window and order and then pay a cashier on the other side. All of the windows have lines, so we go over to one of the cashiers. Her red and white name tag has a picture of Mickey Mouse and says, brenda, and under that, the city she grew up in, atlanta, georgia.

“Hello, Brenda,” Megan says sweetly. “Do you have a menu we can take with us?”

Brenda shakes her head. “The menu is up there,” she replies in an equally sweet, and very Southern, accent and points to the big plastic sign above the food windows.

“But don’t you have a paper menu?” Zoey asks. “Or even a plastic one?”

“No, we sure don’t. Just that one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yup. Why does everyone keep askin’ for a menu today?” “Other people have asked for menus?” Megan asks.

She nods. “A whole bunch of kids. Around your age. Told ’em all the same thing.”

We walk out of the Hut and sit on the bench. “At least no one else can get it either,” Megan says. “They led us on a wild goose chase.” She points to Donald’s big head and giggles. “A wild duck chase.”