11 Birthdays by Wendy Mass
I’ve just placed the piggy bank back on the shelf when I hear a knock on the window. Leo’s grinning face is framed in the glass. I hurry to open the window, and Leo swings one leg over the windowsill and almost falls onto the floor.
Picking leaves off his shirt he says, “Either that tree has gotten smaller or I’ve gotten bigger. Didn’t you hear the branch crack? I thought I was a goner.”
I shake my head, glancing out at the tree. It doesn’t look any different to me.
“We’ll have to go out a different way,” he says. Then he sees the money spread out on my bed. “How much you got? I stopped at the bank and wiped out my savings account.”
“You did?”
He nods, the old sparkle back again. “I figured, why not? It’ll just replace itself tomorrow!”
“Good thinking! So how much do you have?”
He holds up a wad of cash. “Three hundred dollars!”
“Wow!” I’ve never seen that much money before. I reach out to touch it.
“So how much do you have?” he repeats.
“Um, forty-two.” Suddenly it doesn’t seem as impressive.
He gathers it up and adds it to his stack. “That’s okay, we have plenty.”
“Wait a sec! I do have more! Well, it’s not cash, but my parents gave me gift cards for my birthday.”
“Great!” he says. “Where are they?”
I turn toward the night table and stop. “Oh, right, they’re gone now. Never mind.” I slip on my sneakers and turn to the door.
But Leo doesn’t move. “Does your mom still hide your presents under her bed?”
“I guess so, but if we take them, they’ll find out tonight.”
He shakes his head. “Not if you don’t open your gifts tonight.”
He’s right! I’ve only opened the gifts once since this started happening. I’ll just put it off again.
Five minutes later we’re out the back door, gift cards securely in hand. Dad hadn’t even twitched when we snuck past him. Still, we keep tiptoeing until we’re two houses down.
“Close your eyes,” Leo says. “I’ll be back in a second.”
So I stand on the sidewalk, eyes closed. Just as I’m starting to feel stupid, he says, “Okay, open them.”
He’s holding onto the handlebars of two electric scooters. He grins and hands me a pink helmet. He plops a silver one on his head, and clicks the buckle closed. “Fully charged and ready to go. What do you think?”
“I think you stole these from the Schwartz’s garage across the street!”
He shakes his head. “I borrowed them, there’s a difference. I fully intend to bring them back before they even notice they’re missing.”
I’m not convinced.
“Amanda, if this day is going to work at all, you’re gonna have to go with it. I know we’d never do stuff like this normally. But nothing’s normal now, remember?”
He’s right, of course. For one day I can let go a little. Leo would never say it, but I can be as uptight as my mom. I climb onto my scooter, and strap on my helmet. “What are we waiting for, then?”
He grins and hops on his own. “Follow me,” he says, and takes off down the block.
We wind in and out of the streets until we approach the center of town. I love the feeling of the warm breeze on my face and am sorry when Leo pulls up in front of the diner. I pull up next to him and switch off the motor.
“First stop,” he says, running his hands through his helmet-matted hair. “Breakfast!”
I think of the untouched juice and muffin and my stomach growls. We leave the scooters outside and find a booth by the window so we can watch them while we eat. Not that there’s much crime in Willow Falls, but still, they’re not ours to lose.
When the waitress comes, Leo orders pancakes with chocolate chips and strawberries, an omelet with sausage and peppers, French toast with powdered sugar and pecans, hot chocolate with whipped cream, orange juice, home fries, regular fries with gravy, and a bowl of chocolate pudding. “I’ll just share his,” I tell her, shaking my head in wonderment.
“School off today or something?” she asks, reaching for our menus.
Leo and I glance at each other. We hadn’t talked about what to do if someone asked us this. Leo must have thought about it, though, because he quickly says, “We won a contest so we get to come in late.”
I cringe and sink a little in my seat. A contest? That’s the best he could come up with?
“Good for you,” she says genuinely. “Only thing I ever won was a turkey at a Thanksgiving parade. Pulled my back out lifting it and was in bed for a week.” She heads toward the kitchen, shaking her head.
“A contest?” I whisper.
“Sure, why not?”
“What kind of contest did we win, exactly?”
Leo pauses to take a sip of his water. “Don’t you remember? We guessed the amount of jelly beans in the fishbowl.”
“That was in second grade!”
“Hey, I never told her when we won the contest!”
I have to admit that’s true. After a glance to make sure our scooters are still there, I ask Leo, “So, what are we going to do today?”
“The question is, what aren’t we going to do?”
A tingle of anticipation and nerves run through me. “Really?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. We live in the most boring town in the world. I’ve just always wanted to say that.”
The waitress brings the juice and hot chocolate, along with two extra glasses. Being with Leo now makes me realize I never should have let a whole year go by. That’s 1/11th of my life that we missed spending together. My math teacher would be proud of my fractioning ability.
The waitress sets down the plates, and they cover most of the table. She turns to go when Leo stops her. “Ma’am?” he says. My heart sinks. Why can’t he leave well enough alone?
“Yeah?”
“I know this sounds strange, but what day is it today?”
“It’s Friday,” she says tiredly. “The end of a long week.”
“So if today’s Friday,” he says, “what was yesterday?”
Now she’s starting to look irritated. “What do you mean what was yesterday? Yesterday was Thursday.”
“You’re sure?” Leo asks. “You don’t need to think about it?”
In response she slaps the bill down on the table and says, “Maybe you should hurry off to school. You need some learning in you if you don’t know the days of the week at your age!”
I glare at him. “Why, Leo, why?”
His mouth already full of pancake, he says, “You said we need to ask people if every day is Friday for them, too. I figured why not start with her?”
“Because she can report us for cutting school.”
He points his fork at the omelet. “You’re gonna want to try this. It’s delicious.”
I sigh, and reach over for a piece. “At least with your mouth full you’re less likely to get us in trouble.”
We plow through breakfast like we’ve never eaten before. We’ve certainly never eaten like THIS before. About halfway through, my stomach lurches. I push the plates toward Leo.
As he opens his mouth to shovel in more pancakes, I gasp. He drops his fork with a clang against the side of his plate. “What is it?”
“I just remembered — when I stayed home last time Stephanie called! I should have called her this morning before school to let her know I wasn’t coming. Now my dad’s gonna get the phone and come up to my room!”
“What time did she call?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure. Soon, though. Probably between second and third period?”
“Okay, let’s not panic,” he says, picking up the check the waitress had left on the table. He peels some bills off our stack and tucks them under the check. Usually we’d be scrounging for quarters to pay for French fries. He sticks one more forkful in his mouth, then grabs both our helmets and slides out of the booth. I’m not sure if my
“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” he says once we’re back at the scooters. “Where’s Stephanie during second period?”
I pause to think. “Gym class, I think.”
He looks at his watch. I recognize it as the one he got for our ninth birthday. It’s waterproof and apparently can tell time on the moon. “We have about twenty minutes before the end of second period. If we can get to the school on time, we can find her out on the field. C’mon, let’s go.”
Before I have a chance to ask questions about this plan, Leo’s halfway down the block. I hop on and take off after him. The scooter doesn’t go very fast, and it’s a little tricky staying on the sidewalks, but it’s pretty fun. I can’t believe we’re actually going to school and cutting school at the same time. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. What if someone looks out the window and recognizes us? Leo must be thinking the same thing, because he makes a wide circle around the school, pulling up as close to the back field as possible. A group of kids in yellow-and-green gym outfits are jogging toward the back door, kicking a ball back and forth. I spot Stephanie walking next to Tracy. They’re close enough that their words float back to me. They’re arguing whether a hot dog counts as meat or some yet-to-be-discovered substance. Tracy wouldn’t eat a hot dog if her life depended on it. Not that I can imagine a situation where someone’s life would hinge on a hot dog, except maybe one of those reality shows where you have to eat weird things or else you’re voted off. Why am I thinking of hot dogs at a time like this?
I turn off my scooter and run to Leo’s side. “They’re starting to go in! What should we do?”
Leo whips off his helmet and hands it to me. “I’ll take care of it,” he says. “Just stay low.”
He races off toward the back door of the gym and I duck behind a bush. My heart racing, I peek out as far as I dare. I’m just in time to see Leo pull Stephanie aside, leaving Tracy to go in alone.
I can’t hear him, and I can’t imagine what he’s telling her. As far as Stephanie knows, Leo and I haven’t spoken in a year!
After what seems like forever, he runs back and joins me behind the bush. “All taken care of,” he says, tossing his helmet back on. “Ready to go?”
“Um, aren’t you going to tell me what you said to her?”
“All I said was that I called you this morning to wish you a happy birthday and that your mom told me you were home sick. Then I said that your mom said to tell your friends not to call until after school in case you’re sleeping.”
I consider his story. “You know, you’re pretty good at making up stories. You should be a writer.”
He smiles mysteriously. “Maybe I already am.”
“Meaning?”
“C’mon, it’s time for the next stop. You’ll see when we get there.”
So once again I follow Leo blindly through town, the warm breeze whipping through my hair. The only people out and about are moms with young kids, and the occasional couple holding hands. Leo pulls up in front of the last place I’d expect — the Senior Citizen Community Center.
Chapter Fifteen
“What are we doing here?”
Without answering me, Leo hops off his scooter, turns it off, and pushes it right through the open doors of the Community Center. Openmouthed, I don’t move until he sticks his head back out and says, “C’mon! It’s about to start!”
“What’s about to start?” But he’s already ducked back in. Inside I find the last thing I expected to see — a group of twenty or so white-haired people clapping for Leo, who is stepping up onto a small wooden stage. The steps creak under him and he has to reach up to pull out the microphone from the tall metal stand. My mouth goes dry. What is he doing?
Hands visibly shaking, he pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and unfolds it. He leans into the mike and says, “I wrote this last year, after I said some not very nice things that hurt a friend of mine.”
“Louder!” an old man in the back row yells, twisting a hearing aid in his ear.
Leo quickly moves the mike closer to his face. It bonks him on the mouth and squeaks loudly through the speaker on the wall. “Sorry!” Leo says as the audience cringes.
I sink down into a rickety folding chair, finally noticing the large poster on the wall behind him announcing OPEN MIKE POETRY READING EVERY FRIDAY MORNING. In a voice that gets steadily stronger, Leo recites a few lines about friendship and birthdays and I think it rhymes but I’m too stunned to follow it.
When he’s finished the audience claps politely. I realize I’ve been holding my breath since he started. Leo awkwardly sticks the mike back on the stand, making the audience grimace again as it squeals. He hurries off the stage, grasping his paper tight in his hand. I jump up and we meet in the back of the room as the next poet slowly makes her way up the stairs.
As soon as we get outside I say, “Wow, I can’t believe you did that!”
He reddens. “Like in a good way or a bad way?”
“A really good way. You were so brave. That poem was about me, right?”
“What? No, of course not. It was about some other friend who I said something mean about on our birthday.”
We both laugh. “But I thought you don’t read your poetry in front of people?”
“I don’t,” he says. “I mean, I haven’t before. But that’s what today’s all about, right?”
“If you say so.”
“I’m glad you feel that way because the next stop is all about you!”
“About me?”
Instead of answering, he hands me the folded poem. “You keep this,” he says. “As a souvenir of our day.”
I’m tempted to read it now since I missed half of it before, but I don’t want him to know that. I push the poem deep into my pocket and ask, “How’d you find out about the reading anyway?”
He hops on his scooter and winks. “I have my ways. Now c’mon, let’s go eat.”
I follow for about ten minutes until we get to the park. Leo pulls up to a vender selling hot dogs and sodas. He’s already paid for all of them before I can even pull my helmet off. “Happy birthday,” Leo says, clinking his Coke can against mine.
“Happy birthday,” I reply, clinking back. A few men and women in business clothes turn to look, and one or two give us second glances, but no one bothers us. Good thing my mom doesn’t work in town. She’d freak out if she saw us here.
As I take a bite of my hot dog, I think of Tracy and how against eating meat she is and how she never tells anyone else not to, and how Emma had brought in that cupcake for me and I won’t even be there to eat it. They’ve been really good friends to me this year, and I’ve been so caught up in my own stuff that I’ve sort of ignored them. Suddenly I’m not very hungry anymore. I pass the hot dog over to Leo, who happily gobbles it up in four bites. He hasn’t stopped smiling since his poetry reading. I guess that’s what it feels like to do something you’re scared of.
After tossing his crumbs to the ducks in the pond, we set off again, this time toward a part of town with a lot of shops. It’s getting more crowded on the sidewalks now, so we walk our scooters instead of riding them. We pass shop after shop, including the toy store with its display window full of the cutest stuffed pandas I’ve ever seen. I press my face against the glass. Leo doubles back and clears his throat impatiently.
“Okay, okay,” I say, hurrying past the window, “maybe girls do have a thing for stuffed animals after all.”
We stop a few stores later, and I look up at the sign. It’s the music store where my parents bought me my first drum set when I was eight. To my surprise Leo pushes open the door and bells jangle above his head. I follow him inside. A sign posted on the wall says DRUMMER NEEDED FOR NEW BAND. AUDITION TODAY AT NOON.
Leo grins and points at the sign. I’m not sure what this has to do with us. “I don’t get it.”
Leo pushes me farther into
“Leo,” I whisper loudly as we’re on our knees. “Seriously, what are we doing here?”
He sits up. “You’re going to audition to be a drummer in a rock band.”
I get to my feet and he follows. I stick my finger in my ear, pretending to clean wax out of it. “I’m sorry, I’m going to do what now?”
He turns me toward a narrow staircase. “They have a soundproof room downstairs. We are going down there together, and you’re gonna bang those drums with all you got.”
I dig my heels into the carpet. “Oh no, I’m not. You know I’ve never played in front of anyone.”
“I never read my poetry in front of anyone before today, either,” he argues, “and I survived.”
“But this is different.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s me!”
Leo rolls his eyes.
A skinny guy with long blond hair pushes the door open. “Dude, they were tough,” he says to no one in particular. “They said to send the next guy down.”
“You goin’?” asks a deep voice behind us. “’Cause you’re blocking the stairs.”
“We’re going.” Leo grabs my arm and practically tosses me down the stairs. At the bottom I find myself facing two guys in their twenties sitting cross-legged on the floor. They’re both wearing faded jeans, sandals, and black T-shirts with the words BORN TO ROCK on them. It takes a few seconds for my brain to register that they’re identical twins.
They look up at us with identical expressions of expectation and surprise. The one closest to us asks, “You kids lost? The ice-cream shop is next door.”
The other chuckles. “Good one, Larry.”
“Thanks, Laurence.”
Leo clears his throat. “Um, you’re both named Larry?”
They shake their heads. The one who spoke first points to his brother. “He’s Laurence. Totally different name.”