Eleven

by Lauren Myracle

  “I’m not done yet,” Louise said.

  “You’ve gone twice already. You’ve got to share.”

  Louise hesitated, then hopped down as if she’d never cared in the first place. “You better not break it,” she said to Dinah.

  Dinah climbed onto the seat and squeezed her knees together. She pressed the button and off she went.

  “Okay,” I said when she was done. I slapped my hands on my thighs and stood up. “Everyone’s had a turn. Let’s go to the kitchen and—”

  “Hey!” Louise protested. “Karen and I haven’t gone double!”

  Chantelle pushed her way forward. “I bet if someone helped me I could do a handstand on the—”

  “My turn to go next—”

  “—not fair, because you already—”

  “But don’t you guys want to eat?” I asked. “We’re going to have pizza, and everyone gets to put on their own toppings.”

  No one paid attention.

  “Amanda?” I pleaded. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Amanda stopped arguing, and I could tell she’d finally remembered our plans. She stepped toward me. “I love pizza,” she said.

  “Me, too,” said Chantelle.

  Louise put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, but—”

  “Come on,” I said before she could finish. “Last one to the kitchen is a rotten egg.”

  Originally Mom wanted to stay in the kitchen to supervise, but I told her no, I could take care of dinner myself.

  “Here’s how it works,” I told everyone. “We’ve got two crusts. Me and Amanda and Chantelle will make this one, and Louise and Karen and Dinah, you can make the other. The toppings are on the counter, and the sauce is in the blue bowl by the sink.”

  I pulled Amanda and Chantelle toward the counter. My chest felt lighter now that we were back on track. “What should we do?” I asked. “Green pepper and onion? Or, I know! We could make a smiley face, with pepperoni for eyes and a green pepper for the mouth!”

  “Not too much green pepper,” Chantelle said. “I don’t mind a little, but not, like, all over the whole thing.”

  “That’s why I said for the mouth. There’s only one mouth.”

  A worry line formed on Amanda’s forehead, and I stopped talking and followed her gaze. At the end of the counter Louise and Karen were sprinkling cheese onto their pizza while Dinah stood to the side, biting her thumbnail.

  “Dinah, why aren’t you helping?” I asked.

  Dinah pulled her thumb out of her mouth and wiped it on her dress. “Um ...”

  “She doesn’t like pepperoni,” Louise said. She grabbed a handful of pepperoni slices and scattered them over the cheese.

  “So split the pizza in thirds,” I said.

  Louise mushed the pepperonis into the sauce. “Too late.”

  Dinah gave a wobbly smile. “I can eat pepperoni. I don’t mind.”

  My heart started beating too fast. “You guys,” I said to Louise and Karen. “You can’t hog that whole pizza to yourselves.”

  “Who says we’re hogging?”

  The silence stretched out. I was afraid I was going to cry, or that it would look like I was going to cry, which would be just as bad. Why did Louise have to act so snotty? And why couldn’t Dinah handle it on her own?

  “Fine,” I said. “Come on, Dinah, I’ll switch with you.”

  “Wait,” Amanda said. She touched my arm. “I’ll go.”

  Amanda joined Karen and Louise, and Dinah stepped up behind me and Chantelle. “I don’t mind pepperoni,” she said in a voice that was barely there. “We can put it on if you want.”

  I didn’t answer. I plucked off the pepperoni eyeballs and dropped them into the sink.

  “But—” Chantelle said.

  “We’ll use mushrooms instead,” I said. I didn’t meet her gaze.

  After pizza we had cake, because Mom forgot we were supposed to open presents first, and once she brought the cake out, it was too late to take it back. When everyone was done eating, we moved into the den and settled down on the sofa and the floor.

  “That’s quite a stash you’ve got there,” Dad said, nodding at the gifts piled up on the coffee table. “Sure they’re all for you?”

  “D-a-ad,” I said. I pressed my palms on my legs and tried to get that birthday feeling back. I reached for the box from Amanda, but she shook her head.

  “Mine last,” she said.

  I picked up the package beside it and read the card: “‘Happy Birthday, Winnie. Love, Louise.’ And, oh, there’s a puppy dog holding a balloon.” I held out the card for the others to see, and everyone made oohing sounds like they wished that puppy were right here with us.

  I tore the paper from the box. “Body glitter!”

  “You are so lucky,” Amanda said.

  “Pass it around,” said Louise. I handed it to her, and she uncapped the tube.

  Chantelle leaned forward. “Now open mine.”

  I peeled the paper from her present. “Earrings! They’re beautiful!”

  “They’re clip-ons,” Chantelle said, “but you can still wear them once you get your ears pierced.”

  I took the earrings off the card and put them on. They made my ears feel heavy when I moved my head.

  “They make you look mature,” Louise said. “Like thirteen at least.”

  “Clip-ons stretch out your ears,” Karen warned.

  “Not these,” Chantelle said.

  “They look very nice,” Mom said. She won’t let me pierce my ears until I’m twelve, but these she couldn’t complain about because they were a gift.

  “Here, open this one,” Amanda said, pushing Karen’s present at me. From inside the box I pulled out a set of Bonne Bell Lip-Smackers in all different flavors. The set included five normal Lip-Smackers, plus one huge one with a cord through the top so I could wear it around my neck. Its flavor was “Dr Pepper,” and it smelled exactly like Dr Pepper.

  From Dinah I got a scrunchy with gold stars on it. “I made it myself,” she said, scrunching the hem of her dress. “I can do it over if you don’t like the color.”

  “No, gold’s okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Finally, Amanda handed me her present.

  “It feels empty,” I said.

  “Open it,” Amanda said.

  “Open it!” the others cried.

  I ripped off the wrapping paper and lifted the lid from the box. Inside lay a card. “‘Happy Birthday, Winnie,’” I read aloud. “‘Will you take care of me?’” I peered into the box again. There was nothing there. “I don’t get it. Take care of what?”

  From the doorway came a squeaky meow. Mom was holding a tiny gray-and-white kitten, its whole body smaller than one of my dad’s sneakers. The kitten meowed again, and everyone said, “Ohh!”

  I jumped up and ran to Mom. “To keep? Really?”

  Mom nodded. “Amanda’s mother brought her by when she dropped off Amanda.”

  I turned to Amanda. “Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I took the kitten from Mom’s arms.

  “She’s a girl,” Amanda said. “Isn’t she adorable?”

  “Hi,” I said to the kitten. “This is where you live now, okay?” She climbed up my chest and pushed at my neck with her head.

  “Happy birthday, squirt,” Dad said. He came forward and tousled my hair. “We’ll leave you girls alone to enjoy your presents. Holler if you need anything.”

  He and Mom left the room, and I sat down on the floor with my kitten.

  “What are you going to name her?” asked Chantelle.

  “How about Socks?” Karen said.

  “Or Mittens,” said Louise, “because of her teensy white feet. And because it rhymes with kitten.”

  Chantelle wrinkled her nose. “Mittens the kitten?”

  I thought for a moment, then said, “Sweetie-Pie.”

  “Like Sweet-Pea, Amanda’s cat!” said Chantelle.

  “Yep. They’re sisters.”

  “Adopted sist
ers,” Amanda said. She grinned.

  We watched as Sweetie-Pie licked her back leg. Her tongue made spiky spots on her fur.

  “Well?” Louise asked. “Is that all?”

  “All what?” I said.

  “All the presents.”

  “Yeah, I guess, but—”

  “So what are we waiting for?” She stood up and tightened her ponytail. “Let’s go play on the electric chair!”

  “Yeah!” said Karen.

  “Me first!” cried Chantelle as she dashed for the door.

  “Nuh-uh!” Louise said. “It was my idea!”

  Their feet pounded the floor as they ran down the hall, everyone but me. I heard the whine of the chair’s motor, followed by a burst of laughter. Someone must have tried a new trick. Or maybe whoever it was fell off. I hoped it was Louise.

  I held Sweetie-Pie close and rubbed my cheek against hers. “You don’t want to ride on that stupid chair, do you?” I whispered. “Huh?”

  Sweetie-Pie squirmed free. She padded across the room, sniffing in the direction of the back hall.

  “She’s so cute,” Dinah said, appearing at the door. She knelt and scooped Sweetie-Pie into her arms.

  “Why aren’t you riding the chair?” I asked. It came out sounding mean, and my face grew hot.

  “It’s boring,” she said. “Plus, Louise won’t let me. She says I’m too big.”

  “Louise is a turd. Anyway, my dad’s ridden on it and he’s way bigger than you.”

  She sat down beside me. “It’s just a chair.”

  Sweetie-Pie settled into Dinah’s lap. From her chest came a tiny purr.

  “She likes you,” I said grudgingly.

  “I have four cats at home,” Dinah said. “Gypsy, Muffet, Buffy, and Katzy. They like to be scratched behind their ears, like this.” She demonstrated. “Go ahead. Try.”

  I scratched behind Sweetie-Pie’s ears, and her purrs grew louder. From the hall came another burst of giggles, and Dinah and I glanced at each other. She looked anxious, like she thought I might leave.

  “We could try out my new Lip-Smackers,” I suggested, shifting my gaze.

  “You mean it?” Dinah asked. “They’re brand-new.”

  “They’re going to have to get used sometime.” I grabbed the Lip-Smackers from the table and lined them up, the fruit-flavored ones first and then the giant Dr Pepper at the end. I chose a white one called Coconut Crazy and smoothed it over my lips.

  Dinah pointed to a red one called Strawberry Dream. “Can I try this one?”

  “Smell it first to make sure you like it.”

  She held it up to her nose. “I think I like it. Do you?”

  I took a quick sniff. “Yeah. It smells good.”

  She raised it to her lips, crossing her eyes to keep it in sight.

  Today I am eleven, I said to myself. Eleven years old. From down the hall I heard Karen yell that she was being squished, followed by Louise calling her a baby. In Dinah’s lap, Sweetie-Pie continued to purr. I uncapped another Lip-Smacker—Bursting with Blueberries—and breathed in deep.

  April

  THE FIRST SATURDAY IN APRIL, Mom let me give her a makeover using my new body glitter and lip stuff. She’d been putting me off for weeks, but finally I got stern and told her it was now or never. I’d already used up almost the whole tube of gold body glitter, I pointed out. And the silver wasn’t nearly as pretty.

  “Well, when you put it like that,” she said, lowering her magazine and following me upstairs. She got out her real makeup for me to use as well, and I don’t mean to brag, but afterward even Dad said she looked fabulous.

  “I had no idea you owned purple eye shadow,” he said to Mom. “And the fake mole is very dramatic. Really, Ellen, you should have Winnie do your makeup more often.”

  “Beauty mark, Dad,” I said. “Not ‘mole.’ ”

  “Yeah, Dad,” said Sandra. She’d wandered into the room and was leaning against the wall. “Get with the program.”

  Mom rose from her dressing table. She patted her hair, which I’d pinned back with dozens of sparkly butterfly clips. “Pardon me,” she said loftily, “but Sam’s Club awaits. Shall we, Joel?”

  “Is Ty going with you?” Sandra asked.

  “He can if he wants to,” Mom said.

  “I do want to!” Ty called. He ran in from their bathroom, where he’d been playing with Dad’s shaving cream. “Can I pick out a treat?”

  Sandra stepped back to let Mom pass, then plunked onto Mom’s cushioned stool. “Do me,” she said.

  “Really?” I said. Sandra never let me give her makeovers.

  She made as if to get up, and I quickly stepped forward. “Um, okay. Sure.”

  My heart beat faster as I grasped the opportunity in front of me. I studied Sandra’s face, then uncapped the silver body glitter. Gold was prettier for me and Mom, with our brown hair and brown eyes, but silver was perfect for Sandra. I smoothed some over her cheekbones and across her eyelids. I squinted, then selected a shimmery lip gloss from Mom’s makeup tray. I rubbed a dab onto Sandra’s lips. Finally, I swooped some of Mom’s mascara over Sandra’s eyelashes. It was tricky, using that tiny little wand, but I managed not to poke her.

  “There,” I said.

  Sandra frowned at her reflection. “I look like a tramp,” she said.

  “You do not. You look like a mermaid.” I twisted her hair on top of her head, letting a few strands straggle down on purpose. The silver glitter made her eyes look bluer than normal, and with her hair swept up, she no longer looked like plain old Sandra.

  “Whatever,” she said, pulling away and shaking out her hair. But later that night I saw her practicing hairstyles in front of her mirror, which made me feel good, because it meant she liked my ideas. And on Sunday, out of the blue, she let me borrow her colored pencils, the nice ones that came in a special metal case.

  Huh, I thought, pulling a green pencil from the case. This was not the Sandra I was used to. But maybe Sandra’s teenage hormones were calming down at last, or maybe she liked me better now that I was eleven instead of ten. Eleven did sound much older. Maybe from now on Sandra was going to be like the big sister in Veronica the Show-Off, a battered old paperback I’d bought at a library book sale. That sister had rosy cheeks and a cheerful smile, and she was always hugging her little sister and telling her she was precious.

  But by Tuesday afternoon, everything went splat back to normal. Like a dead fly falling off the windowsill, only not in a gross way, but more in a “oh yeah, this is the way it always is” kind of way. As in, maybe Sandra liked me sometimes, but the sad truth was that she was a grump, and I shouldn’t expect her to be otherwise.

  What happened was that we were on our way to the dentist, and Mom did two things that irritated Sandra beyond belief. The first was that someone made a smell, and we all knew it was Sandra, only Sandra got huffy and said it wasn’t and could we please talk about something else? And Mom glanced at her from the driver’s seat and said, “Well, Sandra, if you don’t want to pass gas, perhaps you shouldn’t sit with your legs up like that.”

  Sandra jerked her feet off the dashboard, which made Ty fall into a fit of giggles and which made me giggle, too, although I tried to control myself, because I knew what it was like to do something embarrassing and have everyone know. Once when I was seven, I went with Amanda to day camp, and I sneezed and a big worm of mucus came out. I didn’t have a Kleenex, and I didn’t know where the bathroom was, so I just sat there until another girl pointed and said, “Ew, boogers.” Finally the camp leader fished a piece of tissue from her pocket, which was nice, but it was too late to do much good.

  The second thing Mom did might not have bothered Sandra on its own, but on top of the “passing gas” remark, it was enough to throw Sandra into the tight-lipped, staring-out-the-window stage that meant we’d better leave her alone or else. What happened was that Mom saw a girl on the street that looked like Sandra’s friend Jenny, and so she said, “Look, there’s Jenny
!” Which was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, because it’s always exciting to see someone unexpectedly on the side of the street. Except it wasn’t Jenny, only nobody realized that until after Sandra had already rolled down her window and called, “Jenny, Jenny!” waving her hand and even bouncing a little in her seat.

  “Mom!” Sandra cried when she saw the girl-who-wasn’t-Jenny’s face. She scooched down low and kept her eyes straight ahead until we were several blocks away.

  So by the time we arrived at the dentist’s office, Sandra was glowering as if she’d just stepped in dog poop. She stalked into the waiting area and dropped into a chair at the entire opposite end of the room from Mom.

  “Winnie, come sit by me,” she said, probably because she wanted someone to be mad with.

  I glanced at Mom, then slid into the blue plastic seat next to Sandra’s. My legs stuck to the seat, and I made squelching sounds by lifting and lowering my thighs.

  Sandra glared at me, and I stopped.

  “I hate this place,” she said. “It smells like soap. Lena Jackson goes to a dentist where everyone dresses up like they’re from Star Trek, and if you want, you can watch a movie while they clean your teeth.”

  “Wow,” I said. I would love to go to a dentist like that. Or maybe a Little House on the Prairie dentist, which would be a really good theme since that was before kids ate too much candy and instead they just got orange slices. “What do they give out for toys? Little starships and stuff?”

  Sandra picked up a worn Highlights from an empty seat. She tossed it back. “I do not want Stephanie to clean my teeth. If I get Stephanie, I will scream.”

  “Why don’t you want Stephanie?” I asked. I had Stephanie last time, and she chatted with the receptionist the whole time she worked on me. It was amazing, really, how rarely she actually looked in my mouth.

  “She’s a sadist. She makes my gums bleed. She enjoys making my gums bleed.”

  “Girls,” Mom warned, glancing up from her magazine.

  Sandra rolled her eyes. She lowered her voice and leaned in close. “And she dyes her hair. Her roots make me want to puke.”

  The door separating the waiting room from the office squeaked open. “We’re ready for you,” the receptionist said. She smiled at me and Sandra. “Who’s first?”