11 Birthdays (4 page)

We eat it anyway.

Finally, sometime between seventh and eighth periods
, my locker gets fixed. I know this because I tried in vain to open it before seventh, and when I go back after eighth, it suddenly glides right open. My birthday streamers are in tatters from people pulling at them as they walked by, but that’s okay. The janitor takes everything down at the end of the day.

After stuffing most of the contents of my backpack into my locker, I reluctantly head to the gym for gymnastic tryouts. As I pass the guidance counselor’s office, who do I see, but Leo again! Why is it that when you’re avoiding someone, you see them that much more? Leo’s face is red, and he has a tissue in his hand. His allergies must be acting up. They always do this time of year. I tighten my grip
on my backpack, prepared to flee. But this time he doesn’t see me, so I don’t have to pretend not to see him. I stare instead at the sign for the marching band audition that starts in five minutes. I’d so much rather be banging on my drum than flipping through the air right now. As though I COULD flip through the air.

I hurry to the locker room and throw on my gym shorts and a plain white tee. I’m slipping on my white Keds when Ruby comes in. She’s wearing a shiny red leotard with shiny red leggings. She looks like she could be competing at the Olympics. In my ratty gym clothes I look like I could be handing out towels in the locker room at the Olympics.

“Excited?” she asks, pausing to re-lace one of her sneakers on the bench.

“About what?” I hope she’s not asking me about my party, since I didn’t invite her. When she didn’t invite me to hers last year, I figured okay, she just doesn’t like me. And I crossed her off my future birthday list.

She rolls her eyes. “About tryouts!”

“Oh. Um, not really. I’m not that good.”

I expect her to look pleased at this, but she just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe some of the other girls will freeze under the pressure and you’ll look better.”

I force myself to give a little chuckle, even though her comment was kind of mean.

I follow her out to the gym. Stephanie is warming up. I hold my breath as she executes a perfect back handspring. None of the other competitors clap, but I do. I wish Tracy and Emma were trying out, too. That would make this less horrible. But they have a built-in excuse. They help out at their parents’ flower shop after school. Plus Emma is worried that if she made the team Coach Lyons would make her stop eating candy. And if Emma stopped eating candy, Emma would stop
eating.

Since she’s already on the floor, Coach Lyons tells Stephanie to go first. She repeats her nearly flawless routine and this time a few more kids clap along with me. Breathless and grinning, Stephanie runs over to join me on the bleachers. Coach Lyons calls Ruby next. Ruby tightens the hair band around her perfect ponytail, and does four cartwheels in a row, just to get to the spot where her routine is supposed to start! I don’t understand why Stephanie likes her. Ruby’s routine goes off without a hitch. She’s a little wobbly on her landings, but not too bad. I wish my only problem was a wobbly landing.

“Amanda Ellerby,” Coach Lyons calls, checking my name off on her clipboard.

“Remember to keep smiling,” Stephanie whispers as I slowly stand up. I plaster a smile on my face. I hope it doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

The music starts and I relax. I can do the first few things pretty well. The somersaults, the handstand, the cartwheel. I can even do a back walkover. I take my time on these, drawing them out as long as possible. But it’s time for the back handspring and all I can hear is my heart beating. As I stand there, arms raised by my ears in preparation, I’m momentarily blinded by the glare of Ruby’s shiny red outfit glowing in the sunlight that streams through the gym windows. I close my eyes and try to focus on everything Stephanie taught me. But all I recall is something about swinging my arms, and remembering to smile. So I swing my arms. And I smile. And I swing my arms some more.

“Any time now, Amanda,” Coach Lyons says, pointing to her watch.

But all I can do is swing my arms. Oh, and smile. From the bleachers I hear Stephanie yell, “Come on, Amanda. You can do it!”

But I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m totally frozen. Coach Lyons makes some kind of mark on her clipboard and then blows her whistle. “Jana Morling, you’re up.”

Jana is a small girl who just transferred here last month. She stands up, but hesitates. She looks at me, then back at the coach. I finally unfreeze enough to step off the mat so she can take her turn. I feel like I’m in one of those dreams where you’re taking a big test but you realize you’ve missed class all year. Did I really just freeze like that and not even try? Stephanie’s probably really mad. She did so great, she’ll definitely make the team. And then she’ll be friends with the popular girls and I won’t.

I feel like I have a bowling ball stuck in my stomach.

I quickly change back into my clothes and run through the hall toward the front door. I pass the kids coming out of the band auditions with their instruments in black cases and that only makes me feel worse. I sit on the concrete steps of the school to wait for Stephanie’s mom, who’s driving us home. I’m leaning against the railing, wondering how I’m going to explain to her what happened, when she pulls up in their Jeep. She waves and gets out of the car.

“How’d it go, honey?”

“Not so good. But Stephanie did great.”

She pats me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you did fine.”

I shake my head. She digs into her pocketbook and pulls out a cherry lollipop. She holds it out to me.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it. Stephanie has a four-year-old sister who likes to throw tantrums in public, so her mom always has a stash of in-case-of-emergency lollipops. I’ve just unwrapped it and stuck it in my mouth when Stephanie runs out of the building, followed by Ruby. I brace myself.

“What happened to you?” she asks, not even saying hi to her mom.

“I don’t know. I guess I froze.” Out of the corner of my eye I can see Ruby hiding a smile behind her notebook. Did she set me up? I’m about to accuse her of mentioning the whole freezing thing just to psych me out, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like I would have been able to do the stupid back handspring anyway. I wish Stephanie would stop looking at me with that mixture of pity and disappointment.

Stephanie’s mom puts her arm around me again. “Come on, Stephanie. It’s Amanda’s birthday today. Go easy on her.”

I smile gratefully.

Stephanie sighs. “I just wanted us to be on the team together, that’s all. It’s not going to be the same without you.”

“You made it!” I shout, genuinely happy for her.

She nods, unable to keep from grinning. “So did Ruby.”

Ruby grins too, and they slap hands. I follow them out to the car and have to listen the whole way home to how excited they are. Why couldn’t I be more coordinated? I wonder which parent I can blame for passing down the uncoordination gene. If there is such a thing.

When we get to my house Stephanie walks with me up to the door. “So you’re okay? About me being on the team?”

I nod. “It’s fine. We can’t always be good at the same things.”

She gives me a hug. “Hey, I’ll see you in a few hours. I can’t wait to show you my costume!”

Ack! My party! I had actually forgotten! And it starts in two hours! I glance in the driveway to see if my mom’s car is there, but it’s not. I use my key to let myself in. I only get two steps inside when the shape on the couch moans. It’s Dad, still in his robe. That’s not a good sign.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

He groans. “I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

I run over to the couch and kneel down. “Were you? Hit by a truck?”

He shakes his head. Sweat rolls down his cheek. “Just an expression, honey. I’m really sick though. Fever, the whole shebang. I don’t think I’m going to be much help tonight at your party.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “It’s not that big a deal. I’m only eleven. It’s not even that big a birthday.”

He shakes his head again. It clearly takes an effort. “Every birthday is a big birthday. It’s a celebration of your birth. It reminds me and your mother of how happy we were eleven years ago today when you entered the world.”

“Really? I thought it was all about the gifts.”

He narrows his eyes at me to make sure I’m joking. “I’d laugh, but I’d just start choking.”

“I’ll get you some water.” I stand to go, but he stops me.

“Honey, I know this is a hard birthday for you, but I hope you still have a good time.”

I don’t answer at first. Dad never even asked what happened at last year’s party. He simply stopped mentioning
Leo’s name when he saw how upset I was. “Thanks, Dad. I’m sure I will.”

In the two minutes it takes me to get him a glass of water, he falls back asleep.

I’m definitely going to need a new DJ for my party.

This has got to be the itchiest dress I’ve ever had
the misfortune of wearing. And the red shoes are so tight I can’t feel my toes. I hobble into my parents’ room.

“Is it too late to cancel the party?” I demand.

Mom’s sitting at her vanity table brushing her hair. “What, honey? Yes, of course it’s too late to cancel the party. Your friends will be here in fifteen minutes.”

I sigh and sit on the edge of her bed. “I just wish we could have done something, I don’t know, smaller. Like a slumber party or something.”

She puts down her brush. “Then why didn’t you say that when I asked what you wanted to do?”

I shrug. “I dunno.”

But I
do
know. I didn’t want to seem lame. Like Leo would have a big party and I wouldn’t, and everyone would be talking about it.

“It’ll be fine,” Mom says. She leans over and straightens my collar. “And you look adorable.”

I shake my head sadly. “I don’t.”

“You do,” she insists. “Ask your father.”

“You look great,” a rumbly voice wheezes from behind me. I jump up and whirl around. The unmoving lump in the bed that I thought was pillows is my father!

“Dad?”

“Youngest daughter? Is that you?” He reaches a shaky hand out from under the covers. “Come closer in case this is the last time I see you.”

Mom laughs. “Honestly, Stuart. You’re the worst sick person I’ve ever known.”

Dad coughs and says, “You’ll regret saying that when I’m gone.”

Mom rolls her eyes.

“Hey, how did the presentation go?” I ask her. Mom’s smile fades instantly.

“Not my best,” she admits. “You better go do your hair, it’s almost seven.”

My hand reaches up instinctively. “I
did
do my hair.”

“Oh,” she says.

“Have fun tonight,” Dad croaks.

I frown. “I’m not promising anything.”

I run into Kylie in the hall. She’s dressed as the Little Mermaid. I try to swallow the jealousy at how pretty her costume is, but it’s hard.

“Happy birthday,” she says.

Finally!

“Thanks,” I mutter. “I hate my costume.”

She looks me up and down. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

“Gee, thanks! Way to make me feel better.”

“Why did you pick it then?” she asks, adjusting her long red wig.

“I didn’t pick it. Mom did.”

“Look at it this way, at least you don’t have to worry about anyone else dressing like Alice in Wonderland.”

“I’m not Alice in Wonderland!”

She wrinkles her brows. “Who are you then?”

I hold up the wicker picnic basket. “I’m Dorothy? From
The Wizard of Oz?”

She snaps her fingers. “That’s right! I see it now. I used to love that movie.”

Figures.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The guests start arriving a few minutes after seven. The Disney princesses are well-represented. The boys seem to be either Freddy Krueger from the
Nightmare on Elm Street
movies or baseball players from
Field of Dreams.
Two girls are wearing the Fiona costume I had wanted and I eye them with jealousy. Tracy and Emma are Oompa-Loompas. They look amazing in white overalls, brown T-shirts, and orange faces. Plus, I think most of Emma’s outfit is edible. She pulls a Hershey’s Kiss off her belt and presses it into my hand. Two girls from fifth period English are dressed as characters from the movie version of
Hamlet
that we watched in class last month. Stephanie is an elf with pointy ears and a long silvery cape.

“What movie are you from?” I ask, taking the gift bag from her hands.

“Lord of the Rings.
I’m Arwen.”

“You look great,” I tell her, even though I’ve never seen the movie. Mom said it’s too violent for me. I would argue,
but after being terrified by a SpongeBob balloon, I’m pretty sure she’s right.

Dad insisted on dragging himself out of bed and manning the CD player, which really could just man itself. He’s wearing the cowboy costume Mom rented for him. Every few minutes, he has a sneezing fit and his hat flies off and everyone in the room stops talking. It’s highly embarrassing. Mom is wearing a Cruella de Vil outfit. She looks good in black. She keeps answering her cell phone though, and it’s getting annoying. I understand she has a really important job, but what could be so important on a Friday night? During your daughter’s birthday party?

Dad spent a lot of time burning CDs of movie theme songs, but they’re not really danceable. Everyone’s mostly standing around eating chips and M&M’S. After what feels like an eternity of making small talk, I glance up at the clock. It’s almost 8:00, and half the people aren’t here. Only three of the boys I invited have shown up. Dad was supposed to organize the games, but he’s sitting down on the couch, a glazed expression on his pale face. Kylie disappeared long ago.

I pull Stephanie aside and whisper, “Where is everyone?”

She looks around the room uneasily. “I’m not sure.” I have the feeling she knows more than she’s saying. I squeeze her arm. Hard.