11 Birthdays (8 page)

I start to put SpongeBob in the closet again, but think better of it. I cross the room, push open my window, and toss him out. At first he floats up a foot or two, then the weight of his cardboard hands and feet start to pull him back down. He eventually gets tangled on a tree branch. Leo once used that branch to climb into my room when we were eight and I was grounded for stealing a pack of gum. It was the first and last thing I ever stole. Not including Kylie’s diary, which really isn’t stealing since I didn’t take it out of her room.

“Don’t worry,” I call out to SpongeBob. “I’ll rescue you in the morning.”

For the first time in days, I go to bed in a happy mood.

When morning comes, it takes the merest glance to
see that no balloon rescue will be necessary. SpongeBob is waving happily from the center of my room, just like he always is. My parents’ gift cards are gone from my night table. My mood darkens. I turn off the alarm, and then rip the plug from the wall. I shove the balloon under the bed. I stomp into the bathroom and scrub my face. I stare hopelessly in the mirror. My pupils are so big I can barely see the green around the edges.

Crazy eyes.

Am I crazy? Maybe the whole fight with Leo finally pushed me over the edge and I’m actually locked up in a padded room somewhere, delusional, and unable to move
past my eleventh birthday. But even as I think it, I know that’s not true. I sit on the edge of the tub, my head in my hands.

“Are you almost done in there?” Kylie asks, pounding on the door.

I open it, and she squeezes past me, wearing the same pink T-shirt she’s worn for the past four days. It’s almost funny really, since Kylie refuses to wear the same clothes within three weeks of each other. If she only knew!

“You’d better get dressed,” she says. “We have to take the bus today.”

I grunt and head back to my room. Kylie’s door is closed now. It strikes me how differently the same day can go, depending on my choices. I don’t feel like going to the doctor again, so I might as well go to school.

I get dressed in my original birthday outfit, and head down for breakfast. Dad’s in his robe, drinking his tea. I almost change my mind and go hide under the covers, but he sees me lingering at the door.

“Happy birthday, honey!” he says, sneezing four times in a row.

I grunt.

“Hey, that’s no way to be on your birthday. You should be happy today.”

I shake the cereal too hard into my bowl and it spills everywhere.

He puts down his newspaper and comes over to me. “Are you okay, Amanda?”

I nod into my bowl, not looking up.

He sneezes a few times, then asks, “Did you like the balloon?”

I don’t trust myself to answer so I just nod again. Mom hurries in. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, kissing me on my head. “Feel any older?”

I grunt.

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

I open my mouth to tell her not to bother, that I’m not planning on having the party, but what would my excuse be? I nod miserably instead. She doesn’t seem to notice my despair. A minute later Kylie comes in. She grabs her lunch and runs out the door.

Yes! Lunch! Not gonna get me THIS time! I yank my
brown bag out of the fridge and stick it in my backpack. I toss in an extra juice box for good measure. I mumble to Dad that I hope he feels better, and run out to the bus stop.

When Kylie continues to ignore me, my bad mood worsens. I can still remember her laughing with me last night, even if she can’t. It almost felt like we were friends. Now it feels like she hates me again. “Just so you know,” I say snidely, “he’s sitting with her on the bus.”

Kylie turns to stare at me. “Who’s sitting with who?”

I bite my tongue. What was I thinking? “Never mind.”

She leans closer until I can smell her peppermint toothpaste. “Did you read my diary?”

I shake my head, but then figure, what the heck. What could she really do to me? “Okay, yes, I read it.”

Her eyes narrow at me. “When?”

“Um, this morning?” It was both a lie, and not a lie, at the same time. “You left your door open when you went running.”

“But you were in the bathroom the whole time.”

Okay, that’s true. “Trust me, I read it. And don’t bother to ask Dustin to the dance, he’s gonna say no.”

Her expression slackens. I’ve gone too far. I quickly try to backpedal. “I mean, it’s not worth it, he just really likes Alyssa.”

Her eyes fill with tears. Clearly that wasn’t the right thing to say, either. Fortunately the bus comes before I can make things even worse. When the door opens I step on ahead of Kylie, who is still rooted to the ground. I see the familiar sight of Dustin with his arm around Alyssa and wish I could shield Kylie. But what can I do? I take my usual seat and don’t even turn my head when Ruby or Stephanie get on. When we get to school, I let them get off first and wait until I see them go up the school steps before I get off.

“Have a nice day,” the bus driver says sweetly. How she can remain calm with thirty screaming kids is beyond me. I notice for the first time that she has a birthmark shaped like a duck on her cheek. It wiggles when she smiles. I don’t think she’s our usual driver, but I ride so rarely I never paid much attention.

I know I should say thank you, but it comes out as a grunt. I’m NOT going to have a nice day, no matter
who
tells me to. When I get inside, Stephanie and Ruby are in
the lobby. When Stephanie sees me, she cuts Ruby off and runs over. Ruby throws me a dirty look.

“Hey, Birthday Girl!” Stephanie says, giving me a hug. I hug her back, but my heart isn’t in it. She walks me to my locker. The streamers and letters look clean and bright again. I mutter something that sounds like a thank you.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks. “You don’t seem like your cheery self.”

I force myself to smile. “I’m fine. Just a little worried about tonight. You know, I’ve never had my own party before.”

Stephanie nods and glances down the hall toward Leo’s locker. “I know it’s weird, but your party will be fun, you’ll see. You won’t even notice he’s not there.”

I strain to keep the smile on my face, but it’s getting harder. Stephanie gives my arm a final squeeze and runs down to her own locker. “See you at lunch,” she calls back.

I turn to my locker, the smile quickly disappearing. Even the colorful sign can’t lift my mood. I don’t even bother to try my combination. Stopping to readjust my heavy backpack, I notice the lollipop on the floor. Not even looking around, I bend down and grab it. Clutching it
tightly, I duck into the classroom. Since I didn’t fight with my locker, I’m actually on time today.

Even before the class reads the board and collectively groans, I’m reaching into my bag for my pen. I don’t even bother to glance at Leo, even though I can see out of the corner of my eye that he’s in his seat. Maybe if the boy studied once in a while, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about failing a pop quiz.

I circle the same answers as before, barely even skimming the questions. I know this test so well I probably could have written it. Jimmy hands me back my 86, and I can’t help but turn to look back at Leo. I’m so sure he’ll be resting his head in his hands as usual, that it takes me a few seconds to realize that he isn’t. What he IS doing is looking directly at ME.

Then he winks.

My heart literally stops. I gape at him for a few seconds before turning to stare down at the desk in front of me. I must have imagined that wink. This isn’t the first time that someone has behaved differently from how they did on my first eleventh birthday, but that was only if
I
did something different first. But this time I did exactly what I did the first time — I glanced at Leo when the test
was finished. Then why isn’t his head in his hands? I’m afraid to look again. Maybe taking the lollipop messed up the natural order of the universe. Or maybe my timing was off, and he always WOULD have winked at me, if only I’d looked later. For the rest of the class I stare straight ahead, afraid to do or say anything.

“Yes, Mr. Fitzpatrick?” Ms. Gottlieb says with a few minutes left in the period.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

My heart starts pounding again. Leo definitely did not ask for a hall pass before.

Ms. Gottlieb sighs. “I’m sure you CAN, Leo.”

The class snickers. Leo corrects himself. “I mean, MAY I go to the bathroom?”

Ms. Gottlieb glances at the clock. “Can it wait till the end of class?”

I turn around in time to see Leo shaking his head.

Another sigh as she fishes the hall pass from her drawer. “You might as well bring your things with you and return this after your next class.”

As Leo makes his way down the aisle toward me, I slide farther down in my chair. I’m so used to knowing what’s going to happen next, that at first I don’t realize that
something has just landed on my desk with a gentle
plop.
I watch the door close behind Leo. Slowly my eyes focus on the folded piece of notebook paper sitting in the middle of my open history book. I tentatively reach for it, afraid to even guess what it says. Ms. Gottlieb is giving out the homework assignment, but since I already know what it is, I bring the note down to my lap and fumble until it’s open. It has been a year since I’ve seen Leo’s handwriting, but it’s as familiar to me as my own.

AMANDA,

MEET ME OUTSIDE THE CAF AT LUNCHTIME. OH, AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY! (For the fourth time!)

LEO

My arms fly up of their own accord and knock my backpack to the floor with a big crash. I have to cling onto the sides of my desk so I don’t fall off my chair.

“Is there a problem, Miss Ellerby?” Ms. Gottlieb asks wearily.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so I shake my head and scramble to pick up my books. I’m still on the floor when
the bell rings. My classmates file past me. I sit back on my heels, and shove the note deep into my pocket. Just when I was sure I knew the rules to this whole “day-repeating-thing,” it’s like the rules are changing. Leo could only mean one thing when he wrote “for the fourth time.” He knows what’s going on. But how? Was it something I did that, like, woke him up? Or has he known from the beginning? If he did know, he’s been pretty good at hiding it. I guess I’ll have to meet him to find out. But it’s been a year since I’ve spoken to him, and now I’m just supposed to pretend nothing happened?

The rest of the morning is a blur. I don’t even bother stopping at the office to request that my locker be fixed. As soon as Leo sees me approach the cafeteria, he motions for me to follow him back down the hall. My friends are going to wonder where I am when I don’t show up at lunch, but I have to do this.

Leo leads me to the end of the hall and pushes open the door to the courtyard that only the gardening class uses. I stop, but he grabs my arm and pulls me outside, letting the door swing closed behind me. Neither of us speak. It feels so strange being here with him. Over the past year I’ve imagined how our first conversation would go a
million times, and it usually started with him on his knees begging for forgiveness. He’s not on his knees now, though.

He breaks the silence. “So, um, how’s it going?”

In light of everything that’s happened over the past four days, I can’t even BEGIN to answer that question. I look him straight in the face and do the last thing I ever thought I would if this day came. I burst out laughing.

“How’s it going?” I repeat. I keep laughing until my sides ache and I have to wrap my arms around myself. His face lights up. He starts laughing, too, and soon we’re kneeling on the cobblestones, clutching our sides and gasping for breath. I collect myself first.

“I still … hate you,” I say in between gulps of air.

He nods, trying to get control of himself. “I know. But I think … that we … we …” He starts cracking up again, then forces himself to stop. “I think we have bigger problems right now.”

“We sure do!” I wipe at my eyes. We both lean back on our heels. “But I’m confused about something. Every time I saw you on the second day, you were doing the same things you had done on the first day. Like everyone else.”

“So were you,” he points out. “I figured I was alone in this. And then yesterday when you didn’t show up for the quiz, I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to call you, but I was too freaked out. Then when I winked at you and you made that face, I knew.”

“What face?” I ask, getting defensive.

“It was like you saw a ghost.”

I cross my arms, annoyed. “Well, you would have reacted the same way.”

“Believe me, I’m sure I looked like that when that pop quiz started and you weren’t in your chair. Look, you and I seem to be the only people this is happening to, so there’s no sense arguing.”

“But why us?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out, but I can’t.”

I look at my watch. “We better get back in there. Stephanie’s going to start looking for me.”

“You’re right. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves.” He gathers his books and stands up. “And I don’t think we should let people see us together. It’d be too hard to explain why we’re suddenly friends.”

I stiffen. All the hurt from his mean words comes
flooding back. “We’re
not
friends,” I say coldly, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

“Well, you know what I mean,” Leo says, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

I take a bit of pity on him and ask, “So what do we do now?”

“I think we should lie low,” he says hurriedly, “and do everything as close as possible to the way we did it the first time. Then after our parties I’ll sneak over and we can compare notes. You know, about everything we’ve been through these last few days. Maybe together we can figure out what’s going on.”

The thought of going through with my party again makes me want to hide under a rock. I’m sure
his
party was great so it’s not much of a hardship for him. We don’t speak as we head back inside. Leo clears his throat as we approach the cafeteria. “Um, just so you know, I’ve felt horrible every day for what I said at our party last year. I didn’t mean any of it.”