2nd Birthday: Leo is holding a tambourine, and his arm is a blur as he brings it down on his hip. I’m holding two drumsticks and smiling madly. Even back then I loved the drums. Dad told me they kept handing me other instruments at our Musical Babies party, but I wouldn’t let go of those sticks.
3rd Birthday: Leo and I are kneeling on either side of a baby goat, our hands resting on its back. This day is one of my earliest memories. One of the baby bunnies went missing, and I cried, but then Leo found it curled up asleep inside a blue plastic ice-cream bowl. Later he wrote his first poem about it. I once heard Mom call his parents “overgrown hippies” because they grow their own vegetables and encourage their son to write poetry.
4th Birthday: Marvin the Magnificent is pulling a magic wand out of Leo’s ear. Leo’s mouth is frozen in a “wow.” I’m next to him, clapping and staring. Right before Leo’s mom cut our cake, a dove flew out of Marvin’s top hat. I can recognize most of the guests in the photo. Willow Falls is such a small town that the same kids came to our parties each year. Now, of course, that’s all changing.
5th Birthday: Leo is smiling and holding up a hand-painted flowerpot. My face is starting to crumple because I don’t like the way mine turned out. The woman who owned the Creative Kids Pottery Studio hadn’t yet filled them with dirt or the little seed that I was sure would never grow. But the seed did grow. It thrived, in fact, for another five years until the night of my tenth birthday. I quickly turn the page.
6th Birthday: Bowling! Leo and I proudly hold up our balls. Mine is pink, his is green. They can’t weigh much more than beach balls. Behind us I can see those bumpers that they stuck in the lanes so we never got gutter balls. Stephanie had moved to town the month before, so this was her first appearance at our party. From then on, the three of us did everything together.
7th Birthday: Gymnastics, of all things! Leo and I are hanging off the balance beam, pretending we’re falling. Back then I was actually pretty good at that stuff. Together the two of us were fearless — swinging around the uneven bars, jumping up onto the horse-thingy, and flying off. In the background of the picture I can see Stephanie and Ruby Gordon with their arms up, ready to do backflips. If I didn’t need so much help now, Stephanie would have been practicing with Ruby tonight, instead of me.
8th Birthday: Disco party! I’m wearing a big multicolored wig, and Leo has on mirrored sunglasses and a rainbow headband. According to our parents, this is how people dressed in the seventies. We’re on the dance floor of the Willow Falls Community Center party room, boogying to the beat of KC and the Sunshine Band.
9th Birthday: The beach! It was warm that year for the beginning of June so our parents took us all to the beach, about an hour away. The picture shows me and Stephanie burying Leo up to his neck in the sand. He’s really lying down, but it looks like he’s standing up. He’s wearing that corny beach hat of his that says “Keep On Keeping On.”
I don’t need to turn the page to know there isn’t a photo of our tenth birthday.
Our party was held at Leo’s house. His mom had decorated it like the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. She set up this whole spooky maze through the house where you had to use hidden clues to find your way out. Before going through it I ran upstairs to use the bathroom. When I passed Leo’s room I heard him in there with a bunch of his guy friends. I stopped when I heard my name, and pressed up against the wall to listen.
“Yeah, why do you still have your party with a girl, man?” Vinnie Prinz asked. “It’s really lame.”
I held my breath.
Leo said, “Yeah, I know it’s stupid. My mom makes me.”
Another boy chimed in. “Can’t you just tell her you don’t want to? I mean, dude, it’s your birthday.”
Normally I’d have rolled my eyes at “man” and “dude,” but I was too shocked.
“Nah,” Leo said, his voice flat. “Plus, I wouldn’t want Amanda to get all upset. She doesn’t, you know, have that many other friends.”
That was all I needed to hear. I ran downstairs and out the door so fast that at first, no one knew I’d left. My parents found me crying on our front steps. That night I took everything that reminded me of Leo out of my room. The hand-painted flowerpot was the first to go. Out the window, in fact. I heard it crash into the bushes below. Then I gathered up all the sweatshirts I’d borrowed, the mix CDs he had burned for me, the comic books he gave me because he joked that the superheroes looked like the two of us, and put them all in a box which I pushed out to the hall. I was about to throw the photo album out the window, too, but my mom came in at that point and convinced me to lock it away instead.
Leo didn’t know at first why I had left or why I was so upset. My mom eventually told his mother what I’d heard. I haven’t spoken one word to him since that night.
Feeling even worse now after that trip down memory lane, I close the album and place it back in the drawer. Maybe I’ll look at it again in another eleven years. Maybe by then it won’t hurt so much.
I throw on my pajamas and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I pass Kylie’s room and hear her on the phone. Her voice sounds sort of choked up. But when she comes out of the room she just breezes by me and flips her hair like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
After the fastest teeth brushing in history, I turn off the light and climb into bed without even reading first. In a few hours I’m going to be eleven. That’s a whole new decade. I stare up at the flowers Mom and I painted on my ceiling a few years ago. The moonlight illuminates them, and they make me smile. I have fifteen kids coming here tomorrow night. That’s fifteen friends who chose to come to my party instead of Leo’s. Even if I’ll be stuck wearing a Dorothy costume, I’m going to try to have a good time. After all, like Mom said, I’m only going to turn eleven once.
I just wish I wasn’t doing it alone.
Chapter Four
I reach out to turn off my alarm, open my eyes, and scream! Someone’s standing in the middle of my room. He’s short and squat, and his arms and legs are waving wildly. It’s too dark to see anything clearly. Safety tips run through my head. Stop, drop, and roll? That doesn’t seem helpful. Duck and cover? That one’s better. I throw the covers over my head and lie still. Why isn’t the intruder saying anything? After a few heart-pounding minutes, I force myself to peek out from the top of the blanket. With one swift move, I flick on my lamp.
Huh. Okay, so it’s not a person. It’s a SpongeBob SquarePants happy birthday balloon with streamers for arms and legs. My parents must have snuck him in while I was sleeping. That’s a heck of a thing to do to someone!
Once my heart rate returns to normal, I throw on jeans, my favorite red T-shirt, and the beaded necklace I made at Stephanie’s birthday party a few months ago. I run a comb through my thick hair, which only makes it more poofy. I look like I’m wearing a helmet.
Everyone knows that teeth brushing and face washing are things that birthday girls don’t have to do, so my bathroom routine is very fast today. I step into the hall and am surprised to find Kylie’s door wide open. It’s always closed and locked, whether she’s in there or not. She must have left it open by mistake when she went to run. No one was more surprised than me when she suddenly took up running first thing in the mornings. This was the same girl who used to make me sign Mom’s name to her “get-out-of-gym” slips because she hated breaking a sweat. I glance around to make sure she’s not about to run up the stairs, and then stick my head into her room. It looks like a tornado swept through it. Clothes are everywhere. I can’t imagine how she finds anything. But the most interesting thing is the purple notebook on the floor by the bed. The one marked KYLIE’S DIARY: KEEP OUT OR SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES.
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 o
nly 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.