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MY MOM
and the rabbi had been on my case about writing my big bar mitzvah speech, but I kept putting it off. Finally even Patrice asked when I was going to start working on it, since the whole thing was only a month away. So I sat down and tried to get something on paper.

It took me forty-five painstaking minutes to write and five glorious seconds to rip to shreds. I'd have to try again later. Besides, I had more important things than manhood on my mind. After lunch I pulled on a T-shirt and bathing suit and headed for the door.

“Have fun with that Connelly boy,” Pam called. “I hear he's quite a young man.”

Incredible. Brett was such a big deal in town that even Pam was impressed.

“I will,” I said.

“Call if you're going to be late for dinner,” Mom reminded me.

I grunted.

“And careful at the quarry,” Pam said. “Some parts of it are shallow.”

I dashed out before they could say anything else. But when my foot hit the front porch, I stopped cold, heart pounding. I looked in every direction, trying to make sure Patrice wasn't anywhere in the area. I knew if she saw me heading out to meet Brett and the gang,
she'd feel terrible. So I cut across the front yard of the house across the street and made for the shortcut to town that Patrice had showed me. I was so busy thinking ahead to the coming afternoon that I didn't see him until I was about five feet from his living room window. But suddenly there he was—Archie, wearing old Spiderman pajamas, staring out the window looking at me. He raised his hand in a Vulcan salute and waved for me to come inside. I didn't know what to do: Should I change my plans and spend the afternoon watching
Star Trek
episodes or something? Wouldn't that be the right thing to do? Who cares about the cool kids coming to your bar mitzvah when there's a lonely sick kid across the street who wants to be your friend?

I kept running and didn't even wave back.

By the time I got to Calvi's, Brett and the gang were already waiting. For a second I worried that they'd be pissed. Instead, Brett flashed this giant smile.

“Yo, everyone!” he said. “It's the Brain! Let the festivities commence!”

Just like that, all bad thoughts about Patrice and my sick neighbor catapulted straight out of my head. I mean, could it be any clearer? Somehow Brett Connelly had decided I was cool! And as Brett went, so went his girls and goons.

We started walking. I had come in on the middle of
a conversation about a movie that was coming to the mall in a couple of weeks.

“
The Bloodmaster
!” Fudge said. “It's supposed to be awesome!”

“I saw the preview last night!” said the tall goon, whose name was Eddie. “Showed this big, ugly freak with teeth like lawn-mower blades munching off a lady's leg!”

“Awesome!” Brett said, and pumped a fist.

Pretty soon we reached a narrow path that angled up into thick woods.

I looked around but didn't see any water.

“Are we close?” I asked.

Eddie gave my shoulder a shove. “Come on, Brain. We gotta hike!”

Brett and his goons pushed ahead. I tried to keep up, but before I knew it, I was back with Kendra and Lucy, panting and sweating, while the boys were racing up the long hill.

“Hey, Brett!” Eddie called. “Check out the Brain—sucking wind like my grandma's grandma!”

I saw Brett in the distance, glancing back with a grin. “Too hard for you, Brain?”

“No,” I called up. “I'm cool!”

Kendra laughed.

“It's worth it once we get there,” she said. “And the path levels out over that ridge.”

Lucy was last, moving without any real ambition at all, just sort of dragging herself up the path.

“Ken?” she said. “If Brett goes out with me, maybe you can go out with Fudge.”

Kendra laughed. “Why is Brett gonna go out with you?”

“I don't know, I'm just saying. I mean you were gone all summer.”

“I was at camp for three weeks,” Kendra said.

Lucy frowned. “But while you were away, we spent a lot of time together.”

Kendra didn't seem concerned. “So what? Since I've been back, he's been calling me and texting me and all into me.”

“Fine,” Lucy said. “But it's weird that you guys have been spending all this time together and he hasn't asked you out yet. Not officially, anyway.”

“Shut up! He will!”

Lucy smiled. “Okay. But just so you know, Fudge will be waiting.”

Kendra started walking faster. She turned to me and said, “Don't listen to her. She's a cow.”

We caught up to the boys at a clearing. Suddenly we were all standing on the edge of a cliff. About twenty feet below was the quarry itself, two hundred feet across, one hundred feet wide, and surrounded by towering pine trees that reflected off the dark blue water.

“Whoo-hoo!” Brett shouted. “They don't have water like this in New York, do they, Brain?”

I was floored—I admit it. “They sure don't.”

“Let's do it!” yelled Eddie.

Before I knew it, everyone was taking running leaps into the quarry. First Eddie, then Brett, then Fudge, breaking the peaceful stillness of the afternoon with loud splashes and epic yells. Kendra and Lucy held hands and jumped together, screaming and laughing at the same time.

Boom! Splash!

Just like that, I was the only one left on the cliff.

“Come on, Brain!” Brett called.

I glanced over the edge. The water was about twenty feet down. Brett, Eddie, Fudge, Kendra, and Lucy looked like a gang of otters, treading water below me. Suddenly my heart was pounding pretty hard.

“He's scared!” Lucy called.

Fudge found that hilarious. Then again, I was beginning to discover he found everything hilarious as long as someone else was the butt of the joke.

“What's the matter, Brain?” he called. “Used to jumping into those New York City sewers?”

I could not move. Every second I stood there just made it worse. Where was the lifeguard? And where were those shallow parts Pam warned me about? And
who was gonna call the ambulance?

“Brain, you're not gonna die!” Eddie called.

“Scared!” Fudge and Lucy chanted. “Scared! Scared!”

It was too bad Lucy hated him, because they seemed like the perfect couple, uniquely matched to raise a family of jerks.

“Leave him alone, guys!” Kendra said.

“Come on, Brain,” Brett called. His good cheer was quickly turning to impatience. “Jump already!”

What could I do? I was terrified. But I was stuck. I pulled off my T-shirt, took a few small steps toward the edge of the cliff, and peeked over.

“My god!” Lucy called. “You're such a fraidycat!”

Next thing I knew, that became the chant: “Fraidycat! Fraidycat!”

I hadn't been called that since I was four, but the words were effective. All right, I thought, if nothing else, my parents will have to get back together for my funeral. I took a few steps away from the edge. “Come on, you coward,” I told myself. “Just do it! Do it for…do it for Nina Handelman!” No, that didn't work—I just pictured her making out with Bill.

“Jump, Brain!” Brett called.

Now he was angry. And I really didn't want Brett to be angry. Next thing I knew, I was running full out for the water. Yes, I wanted to pull up short with every
pore of my being. But I knew that if I stopped, I'd never find the guts to try again. And boom! I sprang off the edge, and suddenly there I was, grabbing serious air.

“Ahhhhh!” I cried.

The water rushed up to meet me. I went under hard, then kicked like a wild man for the top. But as soon as I snagged a lungful of air, my perspective flipped. There were my new friends, smiling, framed by this gorgeous scenery. With a couple more deep breaths, it dawned on me: I hadn't drowned! The water was great!

“Yee ha!” I shouted.

“Hey, Brain!”

It was Eddie, sending a wave of water right into my face. I jumped on top of him and dunked him. That started an enormous splash fight. Then Brett yelled, “Come on!” and we all swam to the other side of the quarry. Then we swam back, lay on some rocks, and got dried by the sun. To tell the truth, I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so good.

It would have been the perfect afternoon, if only it had stopped right there. But then we all started talking, or I guess I should say
they
all started talking, since I didn't really know any of the people they were talking about. I tried to pay attention, but I couldn't keep track of who was on what team or who was
making out with whom. At some point, I realized everyone was cracking up about something, and Fudge jumped up and yelled, “Who am I?” He got on all fours and began to snort. Everyone was suddenly hysterical laughing and Lucy waved an arm and shouted, “Peter Primoff! Peter Primoff!” and Brett winked at me and said, “Fatter than a Macy's Parade float, Brain. You'll see.” Then Lucy did her impression of her neighbor who had a lisp, Eddie imitated the sixth-grade French teacher, who apparently barked like a dog in the middle of her sentences, and Brett took a shot at a kid on the football team whose voice cracked a lot. Since I didn't know any of these people, it was easy to laugh along without really knowing who I was laughing at. But when Fudge began to clump along the rocks like he was walking with crutches? It got a little bit uncomfortable. And when he raised his hand in a Vulcan salute? Well, everything was happening so quickly. I could have defended Archie, I guess, but I didn't really know him. Anyway, it was just harmless goofing off, right?

Before I could get my bearings, Eddie was on his feet. First he knitted his brow so his face looked deadly serious. Then he walked knock-kneed across the rocks, pretending to read a book. Then he looked up as if out from under a pair of granny glasses, and he spoke in this pinched sort of voice: “No, no, no!
The United States Constitution was signed in 1787!” Then he pretended to trip. I wish I could tell you I didn't laugh, but it was in fact a surprisingly good impression of Patrice.

“Stop! I'm laughing too hard!” Lucy said. “She's such a loser!”

“What a nerd,” Eddie said.

Fudge wagged his head. I laughed. I kept laughing. I figured if I just kept laughing, the whole thing might blow over.

“Say, Brain?” Brett was talking to me. I stopped laughing. “What's up with you and Patrice anyway?”

Just like that, everything got super quiet. And not quiet like in New York, where there's the reliable background hum of traffic and construction. No, this was deadly still like the world had stopped and was waiting for my answer. A lone bird chirped in the woods across the quarry.

“Patrice?” I said finally. My voice nearly broke.

“Yeah,” Eddie said.

“Are you two friends?” Brett asked.

I swallowed hard and waved a hand.

“Patrice? Nah, she just lives next door.”

Brett smiled. “I told you, Fudge.”

Eddie laughed and jumped back in the water. “Fudge thought you two were, like, going out.”

Brett leaned back on the rocks. “The Brain knows
better than to hang out with a geek girl.”

I felt my face flush. Lucy looked at me. “Yeah, sure he does.”

Fudge pushed Lucy into the water, and within seconds Patrice had disappeared, completely forgotten.

“EVAN?”

Some people are cool and some people aren't. That's just the way life plays out.

“It's Patrice. Where are you?”

And I think, really, that being cool is just a matter of wanting to be cool.

“I can't believe you're not answering your phone.”

Not just wanting it, but wanting it
enough
.

“I thought you were coming over tonight to watch
Singin' in the Rain.”

Enough to say that maybe this thing I thought I liked isn't as good as I thought it was, because the cool people don't like it.

“I know you're all busy with Brett, but you could call.”

Like, okay, say I love chocolate, and I bring chocolate to lunch every day. And all the cool kids hate chocolate.

“I made popcorn and everything.”

But now I find out that they all love celery, and I don't like celery at all.

“Anyway, we've got to get busy on your bar mitzvah speech, so just tell me when you want to do that.”

Now I'm not gonna be cool just because I stop eating chocolate. That's wanting something a
little
, not wanting it
enough
.

“I'm around all day tomorrow.”

If I want to be cool, then I have to step it up: I have to love celery. Not just eat it, but love it.

Throw away the chocolate, love the celery.

“Anyway, call me, you dork. I won't start the movie until I hear from you.”

And if I can't do that, maybe I don't want it
enough
.

 

The next day was cloudy and cold. I was sitting on an old couch in Patrice's basement rec room, staring at an empty screen on her laptop.

“I don't know what to write,” I said. And it was true. Every time I thought about this speech, I just
went blank. I had no idea what becoming a man meant. I just wanted to be a kid.

“Just write anything.”

I typed:

Patrice sighed. “Fine, let's do something else.”

“We can watch that movie if you want.” I wasn't really in the mood to see
Singin' in the Rain
right then, but I was feeling bad about blowing her off the night before.

Patrice brightened. “Oh, yay! Okay, wait, let's go make more popcorn.”

She jumped off the couch and ran up the stairs. I closed the laptop and followed her into her kitchen.

“So what happened last night anyway?” she asked, taking the cellophane off a package of microwave popcorn.

“I'm sorry about that—I just couldn't call.” Lie. “I mean, first we got completely stranded at the quarry,” lie, “and then my cell phone died,” lie, “and by the time I got home, it was too late to call you.” Lie.

“Oh.”

Patrice got that hurt look again. She pushed the buttons on the microwave. “So what did you guys do anyway?”

“Well, after the quarry we went over to Eddie's house and his mom got pizzas for all of us. Then Fudge got this idea.”

The kitchen was beginning to smell like butter.

“Oh, yeah?” I could tell Patrice was trying like mad not to be judgmental about my hanging out with Brett. “What was it?”

I told the next part of the story really fast. “It was just getting dark. So he said that we should stand on the side of the road, and when a car came around the corner and caught us in its headlights, we should pretend to be beating Eddie up. Then we should scatter and Eddie should fall to the grass like he was really hurt.”

Patrice shot me a funny look. “What was the point of that?”

“I don't know,” I said defensively. “You know, to scare the guy in the car.”

“So you did it?”

“Well, I told them it sounded like a dumb idea.” Lie. “I just wanted to go home.” Lie. I shrugged. “Brett's a pretty hard guy to refuse.”

Patrice's funny look took on a harder edge. “You know, he's not God, Evan.”

For some reason I laughed. I mean, I knew she was right. But on the other hand, she was also wrong. Around Appleton, Brett was as close to a human deity
as there was. Anyway, by that point I was really sorry I had started the story, but with Patrice leaning back on the kitchen counter, waiting, I had to finish.

“So a minute later, we saw headlights coming and all of us pretended to beat the crap out of Eddie. Then we ran for the hedges—the girls, too.”

Patrice's eyes went wide. “Did the car stop?”

I nodded and just blurted out the rest of it. “Eddie really played his part, too. He held his stomach, moaned and said, ‘My stomach. My face,' and stumbled off to his house. Then the guy in the car followed Eddie up the path asking if he could help. By that point, Eddie couldn't take it anymore. He started laughing and ran like a maniac toward the woods. Next thing I knew, we were all hysterical.”

The microwave went
ding
. Patrice ignored it.

“What did the guy in the car do?”

I pulled out the bag of popcorn. “I don't know, he was all ‘You rotten kids!' or something. We were too busy cracking up.”

Patrice wrinkled her brow in this way that made her look a little bit like Mrs. Eckfeldt, my second-grade teacher at PS 194. “Why were you cracking up?”

Even though I had told Patrice everything, I had left out something crucial: how it all
felt
. The truth was that once we started to pretend to beat up Eddie,
it was exciting. And when the car actually stopped and the guy got out to help? It was a rush. Just because it's a stupid prank doesn't mean it's not fun. It felt good to be one of the gang, feeling like we had pulled something off.

“I guess it was pretty stupid,” I said.

“You think?” Patrice asked. Before I could respond, she took the popcorn from me and poured it into a bowl. “Oh, this is all burned! It's ruined.”

I was starting to get really annoyed at her—I mean, who needed a schoolmarm for a friend? On the other hand, part of me knew she was right. The prank
had
been stupid. And as much fun as it turned out to be, I had really gone along only because I felt I had to. In any case, I didn't want the whole afternoon to be ruined. What I needed right then was to smooth things over. So I took two brownish pieces of popcorn, stuck them under my nose, and curved up my lip to make a popcorn mustache. Pretty dumb, but it broke the tension. Patrice giggled. Then she took a piece and threw it at me. Hit me right on the forehead.

“You're an idiot,” she said.

I didn't know if she was kidding or talking about the prank. But I laughed.

“You too!”

Then I threw my mustache right back at her, and next thing I knew, we were having a giant burned-
popcorn fight, laughing our heads off. Cleaning up a few minutes later, we were both careful not to mention Brett or the prank. But later on, we sprawled out on the ratty couch in her rec room to watch the movie with a fresh batch of unburned popcorn. I felt like I had to get something out of the way.

“You know, I think I can get them all to come to my bar mitzvah. That's cool, right?”

I brought up the subject right when Gene Kelly was doing this fantastic dance number around a bunch of lampposts, hoping I could slip in the news without Patrice noticing.

“Huh?” she said.

“Brett and the gang,” I said. “I think I'm going to invite them.”

Patrice paused the film. Suddenly Gene Kelly was frozen in space, an umbrella upside down in his hand.

“If that's what you want,” Patrice said. “But they're just gonna act stupid and ruin the whole party.”

I sighed. When I was with Brett and his gang, I had fun. When I was with Patrice? I got lectures.

“What is it with you and them anyway?”

Patrice leaned back on the couch. “Ask Lucy and Kendra. It might surprise you to know that we were friends when we were younger.”

I couldn't quite picture that. “What happened?”

Patrice shrugged. “The minute we hit middle school, I suddenly didn't wear the right jeans. Or say the right things. I didn't smoke. It was mostly Lucy. She shut me out first, and Kendra and the others followed right along.”

“Wow,” I said. “That's crazy.”

And yet it wasn't crazy. Spending a day with Kendra and Lucy made it all too obvious that Patrice didn't fit in with them. But looking at Patrice, still filled with hurt and anger, I wished that I could do something to fix it.

“So?” Patrice said. “Wanna finish the movie?”

I pressed the remote, and Gene Kelly swung around the lamppost and splashed in a puddle. He made it all look so easy.

 

The week before the start of school went by in a blur. What started as a day at the quarry with Brett and his gang turned into a whole string of plans that took up a lot of my time. Eddie, Fudge, Kendra, and Lucy were his main gang, but there were five other kids—Ryan, Nicole, Bridget, J.D., and Seth—who came along sometimes. Mostly we hung around Calvi's, playing video games and eating ice cream, but there was also a night at the movies, a state fair, and a minor league ballgame. All this in addition to my daily trips to Cranston to suffer with Rabbi Weiner. So I
guess I just didn't have a whole lot of time to see Patrice, and the couple of times we did get together, it was awkward. I mean, we tried to pretend that everything was the same as it was before I had started to hang with Brett: We went to the library, we sat in her basement and watched movies. We had some laughs, but every time I had to leave, she could tell I was going to hang with the kids she hated, and as hard as she tried, she couldn't stop the hurt from showing. She also couldn't stop the rants about how stupid or how mean they were, or how they were going to ruin my bar mitzvah. So I guess I took the easy way out. I'm not exactly proud of it, but after a few days, when I saw Patrice's number on my caller ID I stopped picking up. At first she just called more. Then it tapered off. She got the point eventually. After a couple of days, she stopped calling entirely.

A few days before school began, I found myself sitting in Pam's living room addressing bar mitzvah invitations. To my amazement, I had a group of kids to invite. Here was my list:

I got out Pam's old white pages, looked up their names, and copied each name and address as neatly as I could onto the fancy envelopes my mom had bought for the occasion. After that, Simon and I walked down the block to the mailbox. But this strange thing happened when I opened the slot to drop in the invites. The first ten envelopes slid right on down the chute, but I just couldn't mail Patrice's. It was like it was glued to my hand. Not literally, of course, but suddenly my heart was pounding and I was frozen. I mean, how awkward would it be if she came? She hated them. They hated her. Why put myself through that on the most important day of my life?

And then I had this really terrible thought. What if Brett and his gang found out Patrice was coming and then refused to come themselves? I remembered Lucy and Patrice's exchange at Calvi's the first time I had seen them together. Then I remembered how Eddie had made fun of Patrice at the quarry. And then I had the final thought—the biggie. I mean, I was still way
too pissed to talk to him, but what if Dad came to my bar mitzvah anyway? What if he walked into the basement of the Methodist church and no one was there except for my mom, Pam, Patrice, and the rabbi we found online?

I closed the mailbox, slipped Patrice's invite back into my pocket, then called for Simon and ran home.

And then, before I knew it was happening, it was Labor Day, and summer vacation was over.