11 Birthdays Read online

  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