11 Birthdays Read online

  “Did your grandmother ever say anything about her?” I ask Mrs. Grayson. “About my great-great-grandmother?”

  “A little. She called her ‘a feisty ol’ broad.’ She’d have to be, to keep up with her husband.”

  “How come? What was he like?”

  Mrs. Grayson turns onto our block and starts slowing down. “I don’t know much about Rex. He sure turned this town on end with the whole feud.” She shakes her head. “Every small town’s gotta have something to gossip about, I guess.”

  Now THIS was interesting enough to make me stop thinking about my situation for a minute. “What feud? My dad never mentioned it to me.”

  She pulls into my driveway and shakes her head. “I don’t know anything about it. He probably doesn’t, either, since his parents whisked him away from here so young. Now, you’re gonna be okay? You feeling better?”

  I nod. “Thanks for taking me, I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem,” she says. “I welcome any opportunity to drive good old ‘Late-life Crisis.’”

  I watch her swing out of my driveway and head down the block. I bet she’s lonely in that house all by herself, gardening all day. I don’t think she has any children. At least I never see anyone around.

  Dad’s still asleep on the couch when I come in. I don’t worry about making noise, because it takes a lot to wake him. I make myself a turkey sandwich and settle down in his easy chair to watch daytime TV. I used to think the bizarre things that happened on soap operas could never happen in real life. But I’m living proof otherwise.

  Kylie comes home from school hours later and finds me slouched in the chair, eyes glazed, finishing up a huge bag of potato chips. “You don’t look very sick to me,” she says.

  “I feel a lot better.”

  She drops her backpack onto the coffee table and casually says, “Leo stopped me in the hall today.”

  I sit up. “He did? Why?”

  “He wanted to know why you weren’t in history class. He said you missed a pop quiz.”

  I click off the television. “Did he say anything else?”

  “What, do I have all day to chat with your ex-friends in the hall? I have my own life, you know.” She turns on her heel and stomps upstairs. I’m guessing her plan to ask Dustin to the dance during gym class didn’t go too well.

  The phone rings and I run into the kitchen to get it. “I made it!” Stephanie’s voice on the other end shouts. “I made the team! So did Ruby!”

  “That’s great!” I tell her with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

  “Hey, you’re definitely not having your party, right?” she asks.

  “Right. But you can still come over. We could watch movies.” Maybe I’ll get to have the birthday party I wanted after all. “We could make Rice Krispies Treats and I can play the drums and you can —”

  She cuts me off. “Um, would you mind if I went to Leo’s party instead? A lot of the kids on the team will be there, and it wouldn’t look good if I didn’t go.”

  “Right,” I say. “Team spirit and all.”

  “Exactly!”

  “No, I don’t mind.” It’s not like I really have a choice.

  “Thanks, you’re the best. Have a great birthday. We’ll celebrate on Monday, I promise.”

  She hangs up, and I replace the phone in the cradle. I’d settle for there BEING a Monday. I want to go down and bang on the drums until my arms hurt, but Dad is still sleeping. He might be able to sleep through the trials and tribulations of soap operas, Oprah, and Judge Judy, but I think the drums would be asking a bit much. I’m trying to decide what to do with myself when Mom comes home. Her usually perfect hair has slipped out of its knot, and her papers are spilling out of her briefcase. She’s holding two pizzas out in front of her. I help her bring them to the counter.

  “How’d it go?” I ask, already knowing her answer.

  “It wasn’t my finest day,” she replies, pulling some plates down from the cabinets. “But let’s not talk about work. What did the doctor say?”

  “He said I should take it easy this weekend.” I don’t think Mom really needs to know everything he said.

  She eyes me suspiciously, but only says, “Good thing I brought home pizza for your birthday dinner. We can eat pizza and watch whatever movie you’d like.”

  “That sounds great,” I say, relieved.

  “Unless of course you’d rather I call everyone back and tell them you’re well enough for the party?”

  “No! I mean, I’m fine with the pizza.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nod. “Very sure.”

  Mom goes into the den to wake up Dad and sends me up to get Kylie. I knock tentatively on her door. “Time for dinner. Mom brought home pizza.”

  “I’m not hungry,” she calls out. “Eat without me.”

  I wait a few seconds for her to change her mind. “C’mon, Kylie. It’s my birthday.” I hear scuffling in her room, then her door opens.

  “Fine,” she says, brushing past me.

  I decide not to tell her she’s wearing her Little Mermaid wig. She’ll find out soon enough.

  Pizza and a movie (Escape to Witch Mountain, my all-time Disney favorite) turns out to be a much better birthday than the costume party. No one rings the doorbell to drop off presents and run away, and without wearing the tight red shoes for twenty-four hours, my ankles are healing back up. The only thing that ruins it is that I keep wondering how Leo’s party is going. I’m probably the one person in our grade not there.

  After the movie Mom gets out the cake she had ordered for the party, and everyone sings “Happy Birthday.” Once again, I wish for tomorrow to be Saturday. It’s not a big wish, not extravagant. Nothing that wouldn’t happen, anyway, in the natural order of things.

  As soon as I blow out the candle Mom’s cell phone rings. I cringe at the noise, knowing that the call holds bad news. She answers it and quickly takes it into the other room. Dad follows, looking worried.

  “Aren’t you going to open your presents?” Kylie asks. She’s still wearing the wig. Dad had laughed when she came downstairs in it, so she pretended she intended to wear it.

  I look down at the two gifts waiting for me on the kitchen table. No big pile of gifts this time. For the first time, I actually get to OPEN my eleventh birthday gifts. I linger over the wrapping, trying to stall until our parents come back. But they’ve now stepped outside, their voices low. I think it’s going to be a while.

  I open Kylie’s first. It’s a diary, identical to hers, but without the warning on the cover. I can’t meet her eyes for a few seconds, sure that she’ll be able to tell that I snooped and read hers.

  “I started mine when I was eleven,” she explains. “So I thought, you know, maybe you’d want one.”

  “Thanks.” I lean in awkwardly to give her a hug, and my hand gets caught in her wig and it comes off. We laugh. It feels good to laugh with her.

  Kylie walks over to the back window and peers out. I can tell she’s wondering what’s going on with our parents. But it’s not like I can tell her. Then she hurries over to the counter, reaches into Mom’s purse, and pulls out her own cell phone. Mom had taken it away during the movie because Kylie kept texting her friends. She slips her phone into her pocket. “Later,” she says, and hurries out of the kitchen.

  I glance out the window. They’re still out there. Dad has his arm around Mom’s shoulders. I take the diary and the other gift back up to my room. Even though it’s barely eight o’clock, I’m exhausted. I bring my parents’ gift to bed with me and open it there. Inside a green silk pouch I find eleven gift cards to my favorite stores, each for ten dollars. What a great gift! I place the pouch on my night table, right next to my alarm clock, which I make sure is OFF. I feel more confident tonight than I did last night that Saturday really WILL come. Maybe this was the birthday I was supposed to have, at home with my family.

  I start to put SpongeBob in the closet again, but think better of it. I cr