11 Birthdays Read online

  I hobble to the cafeteria, bent forward like I’m hiking up a mountain with a pup tent on my back, and collapse into a chair at our usual table. Carrying six classes’ worth of books has made me really hungry. I remember with a groan that my lunch is still sitting in the refrigerator at home. I dig around for loose change but all I find is forty-five cents. Stephanie shows up with Emma and Tracy Becker. Even when Leo and I WERE still friends, we never had lunch together. The boy/girl division in the cafeteria is nonnegotiable. Emma and Tracy are twins and most people can’t tell them apart. It’s pretty easy if you know where to look. Emma has a freckle next to her right ear and Tracy doesn’t. Also, Tracy only eats organic vegan food, and Emma only eats things made of sugar. The four of us sit together at lunch every day.

  I share my lunch-less plight with them, but between the four of us, we can only come up with a dollar twenty. So my lunch consists of half a soggy tuna sandwich from Stephanie, a yodel from Emma, and three carrots from Tracy. It wouldn’t be so bad if the conversation wasn’t all about the party tonight. But not MY party. Leo’s party!

  “I heard he’s having a hypnotist!”

  “No way! I heard he’s having a rock band!”

  “A giant lizard!”

  Okay, that’s it! At the mention of a giant lizard, I push back my chair and stand, grimacing at the loud squeak.

  “Are you okay?” Tracy asks.

  “I just need to, um, go to the bathroom.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Stephanie says, carefully placing her half-sandwich back in the bag.

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just be a minute.” I leave before she can point out that we NEVER go to the bathroom alone. On the way over to the cafeteria monitor’s desk I hear a table of girls talking about Leo’s party. Who’s going with who, who’s wearing what, what they got him as a gift. I can swear their voices cut off when they see me approach. I grit my teeth and hurry past their table.

  I quickly sign for a hall pass and push open the nearest door. It feels good to be alone in the quiet hallway. Since I don’t really have to use the bathroom, I decide to make one big loop around the school. As I pass the sixth grade science lab, a boy who looks kind of like a bee in a bright yellow shirt and black pants, runs out crying and crashes right into me! His glasses go flying off and careen into the lockers. He drops to the floor and starts patting the ground to find them. This kid must REALLY have bad eyesight! I bend down and hand him the glasses. He takes them and keeps sniffling.

  “Um, are you all right?”

  He nods repeatedly, and then starts shaking his head, instead. “I left my science project at home by mistake. Mr. Collins said if anyone didn’t bring it in today, our grade would drop a whole letter!”

  “Can one of your parents bring it to you?”

  He wipes his nose on his forearm and shakes his head again. “They both work in the city.”

  It’s a little weird that a sixth grader is confiding in me. “What’s the assignment?” I ask.

  “We … sniffle … have to … sniffle … draw the periodic table. You know, with all the elements and stuff.”

  I really don’t know. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I thought maybe I could help somehow, but we haven’t gotten to that stuff yet. We’re still on the amoeba.”

  He wipes his nose again on his sleeve. I wish I had a tissue to give him because his sleeves are not a pretty sight. The door to the classroom opens and his teacher, Mr. Collins, pokes his head out. “Have you collected yourself yet?” The boy nods, and without even a glance at me, hurries back into the room. I sure hope I don’t have Mr. Collins for science next year.

  I hurry back to the cafeteria before the bell rings and use my dollar twenty to buy milk. I try to act normal while I scarf down the last of my meal. I decide to just smile, and not think any more about birthdays. This gets harder when my friends bring out a chocolate cupcake with a fake candle on it and all start singing “Happy Birthday.”

  “Make a wish, make a wish!” they chant.

  I point out that the candle is made of plastic, but pretend to blow it out anyway. They clap, and it spreads to the tables around us. People I don’t even know are clapping. I look up and catch Leo’s eye a few tables away. He smiles at me, almost like he knew what my wish was. My stomach clenches. I quickly look away and busy myself trying to cut the cupcake into four pieces. This is not an easy task and I wind up making such a mess that the cupcake becomes an unrecognizable pile of brown crumbs and blobs of icing.

  We eat it anyway.

  Chapter Five

  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 thes