That’s not what I mean,” the old lady said. She skated past me, spreading her arms and lifting one leg in a show-off pose.
“Stop that,” I said. “Could you just be still? Just for one second?”
She sprang into the air, did a half-twist, and landed on her other leg so that she was now gliding backward. “You didn’t need that list,” she said. “You never needed that list.”
“Oh, like you’re the great expert,” I said. I should have been embarrassed at talking to an old lady like that, but I felt like I knew her. Like she could take it.
“I can take it,” the old lady said. “You can, too.”
“Huh?”
She grinned and skated off, and thank God, because I was growing dizzy. The world was spinning, and my thoughts were spinning, and they floated by me in actual words, like this:your whole life brought you here, not just the last
half a year
and you’ve done a pretty good job, really
better than Amanda, right?
not to be rude ...
How weird, how amazingly cool, to dream in words. My whole life was a book, and I could flip back or jump forward ... or just be where I was. Be who I was. Was that what that nutty old lady was trying to tell me?
Everything I’d ever done—the days I’d lived through, the years I’d racked up, the birthdays I’d celebrated—all of those moments had brought me forward to here. And all I’d had to do, really, was be me.
I liked being me. In fact, I loved being me ... just as I loved the moon, which was still shining through my open window, giving me such topsy-turvy dreams. Yet in China, the moon had already set and the sun was high in the sky.
Was it tomorrow in China, or yesterday? And how could that be, anyway? Wasn’t today just plain today?
Didn’t matter. Chinese girls would head to Chinese high school, some for their very first day, and for some, the sky would be full of marshmallows ...
... or rather, clouds. Silly brain. Though sometimes clouds looked like marshmallows. Sometimes they looked like pirate ships. Sometimes puffy hearts.
Then I was a butterfly, and my wings were made from Lars’s soft flannel shirt, which I never gave back after he let me borrow it at the beach. I flew out my window—whoosh—and into the dark night, which smelled like lilacs. Streetlights lit up as I passed, but the moon was brighter than all of them, glowing like Brooklyn’s pale tummy. Like teensy baby Maggie’s first tooth and a shooting-star kiss and Amanda’s white-blond pixie cut, perfect for her delicate features.
When I grew tired, I let the wind carry me, and I bobbed on its currents like a porpoise riding the waves. I almost caught a glimpse of Dinah when I passed her house, but she rolled over, and anyway, the curtains were drawn in her purple bedroom.
No matter. I’d see her soon enough, and Cinnamon, too. I’d even see Amanda, because if our paths didn’t cross, I’d make them cross. When our eyes met, I’d say “hey,” and she’d say “hey” back. I knew it deep in my butterfly soul.
I flew to the moon itself, and when I got there, I was giddy. Oh, I thought. This is why the coyotes howl: They want to gobble it up, this yummy pale pie.
The next thing I knew, it was morning. Mom fixed me a bowl of cereal, but I was too nervous to eat, even though the Cheerios looked so cheerful in the white milk. Their roundness reminded me of something. I couldn’t figure out what.
And the next next thing I knew, Dad was dropping me off at Westminster. Not at the junior high building, but at the entrance to Campbell Hall, where the high school girls had homeroom.
“Bye, princess,” Dad said, leaning over and kissing the top of my head. “Have a great day.”
“Okey-doke,” I said, as if this were so normal, pulling up to Campbell Hall and starting ninth grade. I was glad it was Dad, and not Mom, who’d brought me, because Mom would have known how un-normal it was. She would have said something about it, trying to be all Mom-supportive, and her remark would have had the exact opposite effect than she intended.
But here I was, and there was nothing to do but get out of the car. Anyway, there was Cinnamon, sitting on the front steps of the building, and yep, there was Dinah, too, climbing up to join her. They exchanged words, excited, and Dinah plopped down beside her. Their heads turned toward me.
“Winster!” Cinnamon summoned. “Come on!”
Oh, my friends, I thought, feeling a swell of love. I climbed out of the car, and I swayed, maybe out of dizziness or maybe because it was finally here, this day I’d been waiting for forever.
Except, I hadn’t just waited, had I? I’d done a lot in my fourteenth year so far. There’d been good times and bad times, silly times and sad times. Baby sea turtle times—yay! And rotten chicken-neck times—gross.
And my friends, and Lars, and an extremely delicious chocolate cupcake with chocolate frosting.
All that, and I was only at the halfway point. Who knew what waited around the corner?
Behind me, Dad was pulling away. Other cars pulled up, and other girls got out. Voices filled the air, colliding and bouncing off each other. One girl giggled anxiously. Another greeted a friend with delight.
“Winnie, are you okay?” Dinah called, half-rising from the steps. Cinnamon pulled her back down.
“Of course she’s okay,” she said. “She’s just slow.”
Am I? I thought. Hmm. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But, heg—I made it, didn’t I?
Cinnamon cupped her hands around her mouth. “Winnie! Babe! Places to go, people to meet—what are you waiting for?! ”
Nothing, I realized.
“Chill!” I yelled, startling the girls nearby. “Oh. Um, sorry,” I told them.
“No big,” one of them replied. She scuttled away quickly nonetheless.
Cinnamon and Dinah were laughing at me. I could tell. The morning sun was behind them, making them glow, as I headed up to join them.
Lauren Myracle, Thirteen Plus One
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