Leap Day (2 page)

I pull on the jeans, but as much as I might enjoy being the center of attention, I just can’t wear my new leaper shirt to school. Then I open the window, stick my head out, and decide it’s too warm for jeans. Five minutes later I’m in the bathroom ironing my hair till it’s perfectly straight, while with my free hand I paint my toenails a creamy brown. In between I take bites of my birthday muffin while trying not to spill crumbs on my wet nails. I’ve always been a very good balancer. I decide on tan cargo pants, chocolate-brown sandals, and a white t-shirt from Express that shows just the right amount of my stomach. When you audition for a role your outfit shouldn’t stand out too much. It could distract the director. I learned that from
Entertainment Tonight.

Rob sticks his head in the bathroom and asks me if I want a ride to school. He usually goes with his friends while I take the school bus with Katy, my best friend since I was three, and Zoey, another one of my close friends who moved next door to Katy when we were in sixth grade. Mom must have put Rob up to it since he never usually offers me a ride.

“No, thanks,” I tell him, unable to look up from the job at hand. “You enjoy the last day of the Shark being all yours.”

“I really don’t mind taking you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

His sigh is audible as he walks away. I’m sure he wishes he didn’t have to share the car and I don’t blame him. The car has been all his for more than a year. I think he even lost his virginity in it, but that’s only a suspicion based on the way his girlfriend, Anne, blushes every time she gets near it. Ever since Rob gained twenty pounds and joined the football team last year as a junior, he went from dweeby smart kid to popular jock and started dating one of the prettiest girls in school. If I gained twenty pounds the guys would go running in the opposite direction. It’s so unfair.

I unplug the straightener, swiftly apply the two beauty products I can’t live without — mascara and cinnamon-brown lip gloss — and take a last look at the finished product. Hair smooth, skin clear, outfit cool. This is an anomaly for me. It could be weeks until I have a good combo like this again. I have to take advantage of it and make sure I run into Grant Brawner, the senior I’ve had a crush on since the first day of high school. He designs the playbills for all the school plays, so last fall he had to ask me for a photograph. I told him he could keep it but he said that wouldn’t be necessary. I said, no really, he could keep it, and he said, really, he wouldn’t need it and gave it back to me as soon as he scanned it in. I like that he’s artistic. At least he says “hi” to me when we pass in the halls.

I head downstairs with two minutes to spare before the bus comes. As usual, the smell of fresh-baked muffins rises to greet me. As for decorations, my parents have really outdone themselves this year. Streamers and balloons line the front hallway. There’s even a piñata in the shape of a spaceship hanging from a hook where a plant used to be.

I’m admiring the piñata when my mother comes out of the kitchen. She’s wearing the kiss the cook apron that I got her last Christmas. I think the reason my mother and I get along so well is that she never really judges me or bosses me around like some of my friends’ mothers do to them. She usually doles out her advice in one-liners. For the past few years she’s kind of kept her distance, except on my Leap Day birthdays, when it’s the opposite. I used to wonder why she backed away, but now I think it’s the perfect arrangement. This way we rarely fight about anything.

“Do you like the piñata?” she asks, handing me another muffinand-candle combo.

“It’s great,” I tell her. “But aren’t I a little old?” I blow out the candle. World peace, baby.

“The man at the party store said candy-filled piñatas are all the rage at parties for four-year-olds. I think he misunderstood me when I said it was only your fourth birthday, and I didn’t have the energy to explain it to him. I figured we’d break it open later when your grandparents get here for dinner. Are you sure you don’t want to invite any of your friends?”

“I’m sure,” I tell her as I stuff the second muffin into my book-bag. “We’re going downtown after dinner, so I’ll see them then.” My family is pretty cool, but the less time mixing friends and family the better.

“Ah, the Sweet Sixteen Initiation at the lake,” she says almost wistfully. “I’d forgotten about that.”

My eyes widen. “You know about that?”

“I was sixteen once too, you know. In this very town.” She walks to the curb with me and we wait for the bus together. “I promise I won’t ask about what you do tonight if you don’t ask what I did all those many years ago.”

Even though I know my mom would never ask me about my night, I say, “Deal.” We shake on it. “But I don’t even know what’s supposed to happen. No one will tell me.”

“That’s the downside of turning sixteen before all your friends,” Mom says. “Someone has to go first.”

“Can you just give me a hint?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “It’s different for everyone.” “It might not even matter, because if I fail my driver’s test I’m not going.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” she says, reaching into her apron pocket. “Here’s the note excusing you from third period.”

I take the note and slip it into one of the deep pockets of my cargo pants. “Dad’s picking me up, right?”

“He’ll be there, don’t worry. If you’re not going to eat that extra muffin you should give it to Megan. The last time she was here for dinner I swear the girl only ate two kernels of corn.”

My mother and my friend Megan Panopolis’s mother went to high school together, so Mom treats Megan like a second daughter. Actually, she may show a bit more concern for Megan!

“She won’t eat it, Mom. I’ve tried. She’s trying out for the part of Belle in
Beauty and the Beast
at Disney-MGM this summer and thinks she has to lose weight.” Megan and I have promised never to try out for the same part so we’ll never jeopardize our friendship. So far it’s working great, and we keep each other motivated.

“She’s perfectly fine the way she is,” my mother insists. “I’m going to have a talk with her mother.”

“I don’t think it will help,” I say as the bus pulls up.

“Good luck with Juliet!” Mom says as I climb the three steps up. “Break a leg!” She waves goodbye as I take my seat by the window next to Katy. Some people would be embarrassed to have their mother wave to them from the bus stop, but I have a very high embarrassment threshold. It has served me well over the years. Katy practically melts into the ground whenever her mother even talks to her in public. Granted, her mother is pretty strange. Ten years of working as the set designer for the “It’s a Small World” ride was bound to cause some permanent damage.

Katy says happy birthday and gives me a big hug. I turn around to look for Zoey, who usually sits right behind Katy. Zoey respects the fact that Katy and I are best friends and leaves the seat next to Katy for me. I would do the same for her and Megan, except Megan doesn’t take our bus. Zoey isn’t in her seat today.

I turn back around. “Where’s Zoey?”

“She called me at six-thirty this morning,” Katy explains, stretching her long legs out into the aisle. “She had a self-tanning incident.”

“Again?” Zoey is so pale she’s not allowed to sit in the sun at all. She and her brother both have light red hair and white skin. It looks good on Zoey. Her brother, Dennis, who is a junior, just looks pasty. Although that may be a side effect of staying in his room all day partying and only listening to Pink Floyd. Their mother has this obsession with skin cancer. You’d think their family would have considered that before moving to Florida. This is the third time this year Zoey has had a mishap with self-tanners. I personally think she does it so she’ll look like Megan, who has naturally olive-colored skin. Poor Zoey always turns orange instead of olive.

“She’ll be at the lake tonight, though, right?”

Katy nods. “Her mother’s making her scrub it all off with this special ammonia stuff, and then she’ll drive her to school later.”

The best-looking guy in our grade, Jason Count, gets on at the next stop. Since everything is working with my appearance today, I’ll be brave and smile at him. The corners of my lips begin turning upright in preparation. Then Jason’s girlfriend, Erica or Emily or Emma or some such name that starts with an
E,
steps onto the bus after him.

“She doesn’t even live near here,” Katy whispers as they take a seat in the back.

“Do you think she spent the night at his house?” I whisper back. Katy turns her head to look at them. “She’s practically sitting in his lap.”

I steal a glance at them and they do look very cozy with his strong arms around her. I wonder if I’ll ever have a real boyfriend to get cuddly with. Andrew was more of a make-out-behind-the-bleachers kind of guy.

“So did you get the car key yet?” Katy asks.

I dig out my key chain and show it to her. “It’s the big shiny one that says Ford on it.”

“This is the key chain your leapmate sent you, right? I’m surprised he found one with
Josie
on it. I mean, Pussycats aside, I didn’t think it was that popular a name.”

“Chris special-ordered them all. He’s really sweet.”

“Did you ever think of maybe dating him some day? I know he lives on the opposite end of the country, but maybe you could go to the same college or something.”

I put the keys back in the side pocket of my bookbag. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

“Why not?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s gay.”

She looks surprised. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, for one thing he told me his friends are taking him to a club called The Pink Triangle for his birthday. And once he asked me if it’s difficult to get a job singing in the Main Street Parade at Disney.”

Katy nods knowingly. “You’re probably right, then.”

It’s a well-known fact at our school that any guy who is either in the Main Street Parade or performs in one of the EPCOT shows is not going to be asking any girls to the prom.

We’re still a block away from school when the engine starts sputtering and the bus grinds to a halt. The driver opens the door. “Everybody out.”

“Hey,” Katy says as we file down the stairs and head toward the school. “At least this time there’s no smoke coming out of the back of the bus.”

“Soon we’ll be in the Shark and won’t have to deal with the humiliation of arriving by bus.”

“Not soon enough for me,” Katy says, pushing open the heavy wooden door at the side entrance of the school.

The halls of the school are covered with bright posters advertising upcoming activities.

COME TRY OUT FOR THE MOST TRAGIC LOVE STORY OF ALL TIME:
SHAKESPEARE’S
R
OMEO
& J
ULIET
SEVENTH PERIOD AND AFTER SCHOOL IN THE AUDITORIUM, FEBRUARY 29

My hands itch to pull it down. The fewer people who know about it, the better. Luckily my better judgment prevails. Katy and I continue through the throng of rushing students and part ways at the door of my homeroom English class. She pushes a note into my hand.

“You wrote me one already? School hasn’t even started yet.” “It’s a special birthday note,” she says, with an emphasis on the word
special
. “Make sure no one reads it over your shoulder.”

“Okay,” I stick the note deep in my pocket. “See you in gym.” The bell rings as I slip into my seat. I look up to see happy 4th birthday, josie! on the blackboard. I wonder who wrote it. A bunch of people smile at me as I look around the room, so I can’t be sure. Mrs. Greenspan is going through the aisles, handing back last week’s homework with the usual bounce in her step. Mrs. G is a great teacher, but she gives more homework than anyone else. She says she does it because she cares. I’ve yet to figure that one out.

Mitch Hurley probably wrote my birthday message. I know he has a little crush on me because his mother — who is friends with my mother — once found a valentine in his room with my name on it. He never gave me the card, though, so maybe he changed his mind. When Mitch sees me looking at him just now he blushes and then covers his face. Yup, he did it. I think it’s kind of funny that anyone would like me. If they only knew what goes on inside my head.

7:00
A.M.
– 8:20
A.M.

Chapter 1B: Everyone

In her sleep, Josie Taylor tosses and turns on the floor, unaware she has just smacked her forearm against the side of the bed. Two days from now someone in gym class will ask where she got that nasty bruise, and she’ll turn her wrist around and be surprised to see it. She is dreaming that the radio has announced that everyone must take cover — a satellite is falling from the sky. She is running across the lawn at school trying to reach the building, but her legs are all rubbery and she can barely make them move. Every once in a while she makes a little noise and almost, but not quite, pulls herself out of her dream.

Rob Taylor has been awake since 5:30, and now that he’s finished his hundred sit-ups, he’s instant-messaging online with his girlfriend, Anne Derkin. She’s also been awake for a long time because she just colored her hair. She’s afraid it has a tint of green to it, but since Rob is colorblind she doesn’t think he’ll notice.