Shaking a little, I got up, walking past Cathy Hutchinson, who was maybe even more stunned than I was, and headed with Stubby to the stage to stand next to Faraday.
From the podium, Mack lifted two plaques, one for me and one for Stubs. “I would like to commemorate Madelyn Fynn and Arnold Schroder’s bravery with these honorary badges from the FBI, and also, to give them each a check for fifty thousand dollars, or half each of the reward money posted by the families of Tevon Tibbolt and Payton Wyly for information leading to the arrest or capture of the man who murdered their son and daughter.”
Stubby looked at me incredulously. Fifty thousand dollars would give both of us a huge chunk of money to go to college with. It would change our lives.
But more than that, the standing ovation the whole school gave us as we accepted the plaques and the checks was enough to heal so many old wounds.
Later, after the assembly, when I was getting my books out of my locker, I noticed someone standing next to me. Turning I saw Mario Rossi there, smiling shyly at me.
At first I was a little alarmed. I mean, I knew Mario was back from his suspension, but I was really wary of him since getting beat up in the stairwell. “Hey, Fynn,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. I simply waited for whatever was about to come next.
Mario seemed to read my wary expression, and he dropped the smile and shuffled his feet. “Listen, I want to say…I’m sorry. I…” his voice trailed off, and my brow furrowed. He sighed and added, “I really am. I think what you guys did to catch Kane was pretty awesome, and I only wanted you to know that I won’t bother you or Stubs ever again. In fact, anybody ever gives you trouble, you can ask me to step in, okay?”
He lifted his eyes back to me and there was nothing about his expression that seemed false. In fact, he looked hopeful.
For a long moment I stood staring at him, just completely shocked. I think he misread it for dismissal, because he dropped his gaze again and said, “Yeah. Okay. See ya.”
On impulse, as he began to turn away, I reached out and touched his shoulder. He stopped and looked back at me. I hesitated at first because Donny and I had had a long talk about the deathdates, and we’d both decided it was a good idea not to tell anyone about them unless I was absolutely positive there’d be no negative fallout. But I thought the risk might be worth it with Mario. “There’s something you should know,” I said as he eyed me quizzically.
“What?” he asked.
I bit my lip, hesitating again, hoping I was doing the right thing. “You know what I can see, right?” For emphasis I tapped my forehead.
Mario’s own brow furrowed. “Yeah?”
“Your date,” I whispered, pointing now to his forehead. “It’s the same as Eric Anderson’s. It’s on July twenty-fifth, twenty seventeen.”
Mario blinked a few times as he thought through what I’d just said, and then he sucked in a breath and his eyes opened wide. I held his gaze, though, refusing to look away. We stood there, staring at each other for a few seconds, and then, the most amazing and wondrous thing happened. Mario reached up and rubbed his forehead, and in an instant his date changed. It went from 7-25-2017 to 4-14-2076. My mouth fell open, and I pointed to his forehead. “Ohmigod! Mario!”
“What? What?” he exclaimed, rubbing his forehead even more.
I put a hand up to stop him. “It just changed! Your deathdate just changed to way out in the future!”
Mario eyed me cautiously. “You’re sure?”
I smiled. “Positive. And you know I’m never wrong about this stuff, so don’t worry. Now you’re going to live to be an old man.”
Down the hall, a voice yelled to Mario. “Yo, Rossi! Come on, dude!”
We both looked to see Eric Anderson glaring at us impatiently. Mario turned back to me, and I offered him an encouraging smile. He turned back to Eric and yelled, “You go ahead! I gotta be somewhere!” And then he hurried away in the opposite direction from Eric.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed at the incredulous expression on Eric’s face. I had no doubt that once Mario got over his shock, he’d let Eric know what I’d said, and hopefully, his date would change, too.
Donny drove me to see Ma six days later. She looked thin, but her eyes were clear, and her speech wasn’t slurred. I could tell she was a little uncomfortable with us there, but she seemed to really be trying. We exchanged presents—Ma had made me a picture frame with wire and beads. In the frame was a photo of Dad holding me when I was an infant. It was the best Christmas present ever.
I STAYED AT MRS. DUNCAN’S house during the week for the next few months, enjoying her bright spirit and the way she fussed over me. As February began to wind down, I found myself growing sadder. The date on Mrs. Duncan’s forehead drew nearer, and I didn’t know how I was going to get through the days leading up to her deathdate without telling her.
The odd thing was, I swear, somehow she knew it was coming. On the weekends, Donny and I spent our days fixing up our house, and one weekend Mrs. Duncan insisted both her daughters come for dinner, and we heard the sounds of little kids playing in her backyard and adults laughing with one another. I watched through the window as Mrs. Duncan said good night to both her daughters, and I thought she squeezed them extra tight.
I also saw a lot of visits to her home from the Salvation Army truck that February. Mrs. Duncan said she simply felt like de-cluttering her home, which had always been full of stuff, from furniture to knickknacks, and slowly over the course of that month she whittled her belongings down to the bare minimum.