Once Upon a List Read Online Free PDF Page B

have but a tiny fraction of that youthful hope back again. If only it were possible . . .
    The final remaining relic inside the glass tube had been a specific requirement by Miss Jordain. Slowly, Clara removed it as a surprising flood of memories washed over her. She gawked at the tightly folded sheet of white paper before carefully unfolding it. On it was a detailed list of things ranging significantly in importance that Clara hoped to accomplish before age thirty-five, when she figured her time would probably be up, just as it had been for her father. Miss Jordain’s original assignment had been to create a list of everything you hoped to accomplish before the end of your lifetime, which implied when you were wrinkled and gray with grandchildren and hair growing in places it shouldn’t. But when Clara asked Miss Jordain for special permission to modify the term of her list, explaining the reason for her request, Miss Jordain gave Clara’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and nodded, “Of course that’s all right, dear.”
    Miss Jordain did attempt to convince her that there was absolutely no correlation between when her father passed and when her time would eventually come, but Clara was steadfast in her conviction, and when the wheels in her head began spinning, she suddenly feared the worst for her teacher, gulping, “Why? Are you thirty-five yet?”
    â€œOkay then,” Miss Jordain, forty-seven, replied, smiling at Clara, “I look forward to receiving your time capsule next week,” and continued strolling down the narrow aisle of desks.
    â€œThat’s terrible!” Leo almost spit out his wine when his sister recounted this tale. “Why haven’t I heard about this before? I would’ve straightened you right out. I had no idea you were really convinced that life ends at age thirty-five. Jesus, that’s awful.”
    â€œNot as awful as when Miss Jordain called me after school that day to suggest it might be beneficial to have a friendly little For Whom the Bell Tolls chat with my daughter with the vivid imagination .” Libby extended an open hand to Clara. “Okay, Wednesday Addams. Let’s see your list.”
    But Clara was too absorbed in reading it to hear her mother’s request. Created at age ten, before reality encroached upon that magical sense of childhood power that allowed her to believe anything was possible—something she had continued to believe up until Sebastian’s “accident”—it felt to Clara as if her list belonged to a complete and utter stranger.
    And in a way, it did.

 
    4.
    C lara tossed and turned in bed. She’d been struggling to fall asleep for almost two hours (typical since Sebastian’s death) with Patrick Swayze staring at her (not typical) when the intoxicating aroma of grilled cheese sandwiches wafted up the staircase, down the hall, and underneath her bedroom door. This was one of the perks of having her brother around. Clara was happy that Leo had decided to pack a suitcase and lodge at Libby’s, rather than at his own bachelor pad in the city, while she was in town. Lord knows their mother couldn’t have been more elated to have both of her children home for the holiday. Throwing off her covers, Clara grabbed her favorite Harvard sweatshirt, which had once belonged to Sebastian, and proceeded directly to the kitchen.
    â€œHey. What are you doing up?” Leo, standing by the stove, waved his spatula at her.
    Clara shrugged, inhaling the heavenly scent. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately. But, I have been craving one of your sandwiches for months.”
    â€œSay no more. You want it with or without?”
    â€œWith, please.” Clara yawned, taking her usual seat at the kitchen table.
    â€œOrder in! One midnight grilled cheese with avocado coming right up.”
    Once again, Clara forced a semi-smile that sort of made it look as if she had to use the