11 Birthdays (3 page)

I certainly don’t want to suffer any consequences, so I hurry on down the stairs. After all, what could it say that would be interesting? Kylie’s life is so perfect. Her biggest fear is chipping a nail before homeroom and not having the right color polish to fix it.

Dad is the only one in the kitchen when I arrive. Unshaven and in his pajamas, he gives me a raspy hello as he pours himself some tea from the teapot. My dad doesn’t drink tea. Unless he’s sick. Oh no!

“Dad! You can’t be sick. My party’s tonight. You’re the DJ!”

He sneezes twice in a row and then says, “I’ll be fine, honey. Happy … achoo … birthday … achoo! Don’t you worry about … about … achoo!!”

I cover my mouth and nose. The last thing I want is to get sick today. My mother rushes into the room, fully dressed and made up. She has a big presentation today at the ad agency where she works. I heard her practicing her speech when I was trying to fall asleep.

“Happy birthday, sweetie!” She leans over to kiss my forehead. She gets my hair instead. “Feel any older?”

I consider her question as I pour milk on my Corn Pops.
“I think I’m growing. My feet were closer to the edge of the bed this morning. Thanks for the balloon, by the way.”

Dad chuckles. It dissolves into a wheeze. When he collects himself he says, “You liked that, eh? And your sister said you were too old for SpongeBob.”

“I
am
too old, but it’s still cute. Especially, you know, when it wasn’t trying to attack me.”

“Hmm?” he says, opening the morning newspaper.

“Nothing,” I say, quickly shoveling cereal into my mouth.

“I’ve gotta run,” Mom says, sticking a granola bar in the pocket of her blazer. “I’ll be home early to help you get ready.”

I nod. Images of that uncomfortable-looking Dorothy costume flit across my mind.

Mom kisses my head again, waves to Dad from a safe distance germwise, and strides out of the room.

Mom usually takes us on her way to work, except when she leaves early like this. I turn to Dad. “I guess you’re not going to drive us to school?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” He sneezes again, just to prove he’s really sick. “You’ll just have to take the bus today.”

Ugh. The bus. Kylie and I are lucky, we only wind up taking the bus a few times a month. It’s smelly and loud and my shoes always stick to the floor.

I hurry to finish my cereal since the bus comes in five minutes. Kylie runs in, grunts hello to Dad, grabs her lunch bag from the fridge, and runs out the door. No good mornings. No happy birthdays.

“She means well,” Dad says.

“No she doesn’t,” I reply.

He laughs, and then starts hacking up a lung.

Ducking out of the way of flying sick-person germs, I grab my heavy backpack and run out after Kylie. I’m halfway to the stop before I realize I forgot my lunch. I check my watch. The bus was due three minutes ago, so it’s already late. Can I risk it? The bus rounds the corner, answering my question.

Lunchless and out of breath, I climb on behind Kylie. She passes right by her science partner, Dustin, without saying anything. Maybe it’s because he’s sitting with his arm around Alyssa Benson, the most popular girl in the seventh grade. Kylie joins her best friend, Jen, and they immediately start laughing and talking a mile a minute. I
notice Jonathan, the kid who asked Kylie to the dance, watching her with sad eyes. I feel sorry for him. I find an empty seat halfway down the aisle and look out the window. At the next stop Ruby gets on. I can’t help notice the large duffel over her arm, no doubt packed with the perfect gymnastics-tryout outfit. She doesn’t even glance my way and takes a seat in the second row.

The next stop is Stephanie’s. She’s going to be really surprised to see me. When she gets on — also with a duffel on her shoulder — I call her name but the bus is too loud and people keep jumping up to touch the beach ball that’s flying through the air. Stephanie heads directly for Ruby and sits down. They bend their heads together and start laughing about something, so I resist the urge to call out again. Instead, I slide down in my seat and pout. It’s bad enough to have to take the bus on your birthday. To have to take the bus on your birthday while watching your best friend sit with someone else is almost as bad as being attacked by a balloon.

When we arrive at school I wait at the bottom of the stairs for Stephanie.

“Hey, Birthday Girl!” she says as she steps off.

Ruby, the best-friend stealer, follows, and also wishes me a happy birthday. I know she’s just being nice because Stephanie is here. I was the only girl in our class who didn’t get an invitation to Ruby’s birthday party last year, even though I had invited her to mine. Mine and Leo’s that is. Not that I even remember if she came since I left so fast.

“Didn’t you see me on the bus?” I blurt out, looking only at Stephanie.

She takes a step back. “Huh? You were on the bus?”

I nod and point at Kylie, who is now stepping off. “Mom has a big meeting and my dad’s not feeling well, so we had to take the bus.”

Ruby mumbles something about going to the gym to practice and slinks away. Stephanie links her arm in mine. “I didn’t see you, I swear. I’d have sat with you.”

I relax. Of course she would have. After all, she did choose to stay friends with me over Leo, so that says a lot. We head toward the front door, arm in arm.

“Hey, where’s your outfit?” she asks.

At first I think she’s talking about my costume for the party. But why would I wear that to school? “What do you mean?”

“For tryouts. I told you to bring something cool.”

There’s that word again: cool. “First of all, you didn’t tell me that. And second, I don’t have anything cool.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head.

“Oh. You’ll just have to wear your gym clothes then.”

“That’s what I was planning.” We round the corner toward our lockers and I see a sign posted for marching band auditions. It’s the exact same time as gymnastics. I give a little sigh as we hurry past it.

I can see the streamers on my locker from halfway down the hall. I turn to Stephanie in surprise. “When did you have a chance to do that?”

“Do what?” She follows where I’m pointing, and then slowly grins. “Oh that? After school yesterday.”

Her slight on the school bus is now forgiven. No one has decorated my locker before, and secretly I always hoped someone would. I give her a hug. She hesitates for a second, then runs down the hall to her own locker with a backward wave. I stand for a minute and admire the purple streamers, and the big
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
letters made out of different colored paper. It must have taken her a long time to do this. I rest my backpack on the floor and notice
that a few lockers away, a Tootsie Roll Pop is lying next to the wall. I bend down to look closer. It’s a green apple one. My favorite. Was it supposed to be left in front of
my
locker like a birthday gift? I look around and don’t see any of the kids whose lockers are nearby. I almost pick it up, and then think better of it. If it’s not for me, and someone saw me take it, I’d be really embarrassed.

I put in my locker combination and pull on the metal handle. I pull harder. It’s stuck! I try the combination again. The bell rings for first period, and I still can’t get it open. Good thing I took all my books home last night, otherwise I wouldn’t have them for my classes. I had planned to get ahead in my homework so I wouldn’t have to do any tonight, but that plan hadn’t quite worked.

Grumbling, I pick up my backpack and run to class. History is the only class Leo and I have together, and I hate bringing any attention to myself. Ms. Gottlieb makes a big deal if you’re late. Fortunately she’s busy writing on the board and doesn’t see me come in. Maneuvering through the desks as quietly as possible, I slide into my seat. From across the room, I swear I can feel Leo’s eyes on me. I want to turn around and wish him a happy birthday, but even now, a year later, his mean words still feel fresh. I keep my
eyes glued to the board where the words
POP QUIZ
suddenly become clear.

Pop quiz?? My stomach sinks. I’m not good at pop quizzes, but Leo’s even worse. I steal a glance at him while pretending to tuck my hair behind my ear. He looks pale.

Ms. Gottlieb takes attendance, and then tells us to put everything on the floor. The class groans collectively.

“Don’t worry,” she says, “if you don’t get higher than a seventy-five on the test, you can retake it after school. Well, not the same exact version, of course.”

Stay after school on my birthday? No, thanks!

Ms. Gottlieb hands out the quiz, and it’s actually not too bad. The last question is the only one that stumps me. Which of the following items CANNOT be found in the Willow Falls Historical Society Museum:

a. a bed warmer

b. a stuffed raccoon

c. a wooden crib

d. the journal of the town’s founding father

The Historical Society is really just a little house decorated to look like it did a hundred years ago. I’ve been there
a dozen times on school field trips, but old furniture is pretty boring and I’ve never paid much attention. I decide to take my chances and say that there’s no creepy stuffed raccoon. I probably would have noticed that!

When the quiz is over, we have to switch papers with the person next to us. Ms. Gottlieb reads the correct answers. Turns out there WAS a stuffed raccoon! The journal was the right answer. Oh well. I hand Jimmy Dawson his 94 and he gives me my 86 and whispers, “Happy birthday.” Jimmy and I used to be good friends, but after The Fight, he’s mostly been Leo’s friend. I don’t blame him for choosing Leo. He
is
a boy, after all. I thank him and risk another glance behind me. Leo’s holding his head in his hands. Not a good sign.

By lunchtime my shoulders are about to fall off my body. My bag feels ten times heavier. I’ve GOT to get my locker fixed. On my way to lunch I stop at the office and have to fill out a request form in order for the janitor to fix it.

I hobble to the cafeteria, bent forward like I’m hiking up a mountain with a pup tent on my back, and collapse into a chair at our usual table. Carrying six classes’ worth of books has made me really hungry. I remember with a
groan that my lunch is still sitting in the refrigerator at home. I dig around for loose change but all I find is forty-five cents. Stephanie shows up with Emma and Tracy Becker. Even when Leo and I WERE still friends, we never had lunch together. The boy/girl division in the cafeteria is nonnegotiable. Emma and Tracy are twins and most people can’t tell them apart. It’s pretty easy if you know where to look. Emma has a freckle next to her right ear and Tracy doesn’t. Also, Tracy only eats organic vegan food, and Emma only eats things made of sugar. The four of us sit together at lunch every day.

I share my lunch-less plight with them, but between the four of us, we can only come up with a dollar twenty. So my lunch consists of half a soggy tuna sandwich from Stephanie, a yodel from Emma, and three carrots from Tracy. It wouldn’t be so bad if the conversation wasn’t all about the party tonight. But not MY party.
Leo’s
party!

“I heard he’s having a hypnotist!”

“No way! I heard he’s having a rock band!”

“A giant lizard!”

Okay, that’s it! At the mention of a giant lizard, I push back my chair and stand, grimacing at the loud squeak.

“Are you okay?” Tracy asks.

“I just need to, um, go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll come with you,” Stephanie says, carefully placing her half-sandwich back in the bag.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just be a minute.” I leave before she can point out that we NEVER go to the bathroom alone. On the way over to the cafeteria monitor’s desk I hear a table of girls talking about Leo’s party. Who’s going with who, who’s wearing what, what they got him as a gift. I can swear their voices cut off when they see me approach. I grit my teeth and hurry past their table.

I quickly sign for a hall pass and push open the nearest door. It feels good to be alone in the quiet hallway. Since I don’t really have to use the bathroom, I decide to make one big loop around the school. As I pass the sixth grade science lab, a boy who looks kind of like a bee in a bright yellow shirt and black pants, runs out crying and crashes right into me! His glasses go flying off and careen into the lockers. He drops to the floor and starts patting the ground to find them. This kid must REALLY have bad eyesight! I bend down and hand him the glasses. He takes them and keeps sniffling.

“Um, are you all right?”

He nods repeatedly, and then starts shaking his head, instead. “I left my science project at home by mistake. Mr. Collins said if anyone didn’t bring it in today, our grade would drop a whole letter!”

“Can one of your parents bring it to you?”

He wipes his nose on his forearm and shakes his head again. “They both work in the city.”

It’s a little weird that a sixth grader is confiding in me. “What’s the assignment?” I ask.

“We …
sniffle
… have to …
sniffle
… draw the periodic table. You know, with all the elements and stuff.”

I really
don’t
know. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I thought maybe I could help somehow, but we haven’t gotten to that stuff yet. We’re still on the amoeba.”

He wipes his nose again on his sleeve. I wish I had a tissue to give him because his sleeves are not a pretty sight. The door to the classroom opens and his teacher, Mr. Collins, pokes his head out. “Have you collected yourself yet?” The boy nods, and without even a glance at me, hurries back into the room. I sure hope I don’t have Mr. Collins for science next year.

I hurry back to the cafeteria before the bell rings and use my dollar twenty to buy milk. I try to act normal while I scarf down the last of my meal. I decide to just smile, and not think any more about birthdays. This gets harder when my friends bring out a chocolate cupcake with a fake candle on it and all start singing “Happy Birthday.”

“Make a wish, make a wish!” they chant.

I point out that the candle is made of plastic, but pretend to blow it out anyway. They clap, and it spreads to the tables around us. People I don’t even know are clapping. I look up and catch Leo’s eye a few tables away. He smiles at me, almost like he knew what my wish was. My stomach clenches. I quickly look away and busy myself trying to cut the cupcake into four pieces. This is not an easy task and I wind up making such a mess that the cupcake becomes an unrecognizable pile of brown crumbs and blobs of icing.