Eleven

by Lauren Myracle

  Louise gazed at me pityingly. “Grant gave me three red roses,” she said. “Want to see?”

  I stomped to my desk.

  When Dinah arrived, I was busy scribbling in letters on my crossword puzzle, which I never finished the night before. At least, I was pretending to be busy. Toby’s desk sat empty in the back of the room, and I didn’t want him to think I cared when he finally showed up.

  “So?” Dinah said, plunking down beside me. “Did Toby call? Did he ask you to go with him?”

  “I took the phone off the hook,” I said. I’d gotten scared that Toby’s brother might use star-six-nine and call me back, so I slipped Mom and Dad’s bedroom phone off the hang-up button and acted as confused as everyone else when Sandra couldn’t get a dial tone.

  “But I thought you wanted him to call,” Dinah said.

  I shrugged.

  David May sauntered to our desks, the Hershey bar Karen had given him sticking out of his shirt pocket. “Hi, girls,” he said.

  “Hi yourself,” I said back. If he started flaunting that Hershey bar around, I was going to kick him.

  He turned to Dinah. “Alex wants to know if you’ll go with him, and you better say yes, because no one else is going to ask you.”

  “Excuse me?!” I said. “Well, tell Alex to go jump in a lake. Right, Dinah?”

  Dinah giggled and pressed her hand to her mouth.

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Right, Dinah?”

  “Well?” David said.

  “Okay,” Dinah said. “I’ll go with him.”

  I gaped at her.

  David tugged something free from his pocket. “Here. He said to give you this.”

  I lunged for the small white envelope, but Dinah beat me to it. She gave me a sheepish smile.

  “But it’s not even ten-thirty!” I said. “And plus, he’s supposed to put it in your box, not just—” A movement behind her caught my attention. Toby, coming in at last. His pinkeye had disappeared from his right eye, but had worsened in his left, making it look bulgy and raw. He paused in the doorway, then spotted me and started across the room.

  “Oh, no,” I said.

  “What?” Dinah asked.

  I jerked up the crossword puzzle and held it two inches in front of my face. I tried to breathe.

  “Winnie,” Dinah said.

  I ignored her.

  “Winnie!”

  I lowered the ditto a fraction of an inch. Toby stood before me, hands jammed under his arms.

  “Did you make your little brother call me last night?” he said.

  My face went hot. “No.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I didn’t make him. He wanted to.”

  Toby kicked at the floor. “It’s just that he kept hanging up, and my brother got kind of mad.”

  I swallowed. I could feel Dinah listening, and that wasn’t so bad, but David was there, too, and I knew it would be all over the school by lunchtime. It would be worse than Gail and the smelly letter.

  “But I didn’t tell him to say that, at the end,” Toby said.

  “Say what?” David said.

  I lifted my head. “You didn’t?”

  “Say what?” David said.

  “Nothing!” Toby and I said together.

  He uncrossed his arms and handed me a wrinkled white envelope, the same size as the one David gave Dinah. It was slightly damp, but I didn’t care.

  “I know we’re supposed to wait, but—”

  I waved my fingers in the air. “That’s all right.”

  He turned to leave.

  “Toby, wait. I, um ... I guess I was just wondering.” My heart thumped. “Do you want to go with me?”

  Beside me, Dinah squealed.

  “Well?” David said. “Answer her, man.”

  Toby rubbed his eye with his fist, then dropped his hand to his side. “I guess so,” he said. He nodded. “All right.”

  That afternoon at the couples’ table, the girls compared cards while the boys zinged each other with Louise’s heart-shaped cookies. Amanda’s card from Robert played “Bicycle Built for Two” when she lifted the front flap, and we took turns opening and shutting it until finally she made us stop. Ross, who asked Gail to go with him five minutes before lunch began, had drawn a robot with the head of a fly on a piece of notebook paper, with HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY coming out of its mouth. Gail told us the card meant even more since it was homemade, but later she just happened to knock over her drink carton, spilling grape juice all over her sandwich and Ross’s drawing.

  “Oh, no!” she cried. “Look what I’ve done!”

  Dinah’s card from Alex was a white punch-out with Bart Simpson on the front. Don’t have a cow, it said. Be my valentine!

  “I know it’s kind of obnoxious,” Dinah said, blushing and looping a strand of hair around one finger. “But it’s funny, too. Don’t you think?”

  I’d gotten a Simpson’s card from Toby as well, only mine had a picture of Lisa playing her trombone. I didn’t rub it in to Dinah, but secretly I was pleased. I’d seen the Simpsons’ cards in the drugstore, and in a box of twenty, there were ten Barts, five Homers, and five assorted extras. Of those five, only one showed Lisa with her trombone.

  March

  IT WAS THE BEGINNING OF MARCH, and the days were getting warmer. Mr. Hutchinson decorated our bulletin board with the delicate gauze butterflies we made in art. In science, Ms. Gardner showed time-lapse photography films of tulips and daffodils opening to the sun. And during lunch we were tipsy with spring fever, calling out to friends at other tables, tossing food back and forth, and—in my case—making excited plans about my birthday, which was less than two weeks away.

  Last year, it was Amanda and I who giggled together, discussing pizza versus hamburgers, chocolate cake versus rainbow swirl. This year it was Dinah who sat beside me, nodding eagerly as I told her about Benihana’s, the restaurant I’d invited her to for the night of my birthday itself. Sandra said you got to take your shoes off and eat at these special tables that were really low to the ground. You didn’t use chairs; you just sat on the floor. Then the chef came and did all kinds of cool knife stuff right in front of you.

  “I love fancy dinners,” Dinah said. “I love how grown-up they make you feel. Is it just going to be the two of us?”

  “Plus my mom and dad and Sandra and Ty,” I said. “But yeah, other than my family, it’ll just be us two.”

  I looked at her, and for a moment I fell silent. It was weird realizing how much things had changed in just one year. Not bad, just ... weird. But mainly it was exhilarating, thinking about all the fun we were going to have.

  “I know!” Dinah said. “Maybe before dinner we could play games, to work up our appetites. Maybe Chinese jump rope. Do you think?”

  I swatted her. She was still obsessed with Chinese jump rope, and I know she hoped it would regain favor on the playground. But it never did. “How are we supposed to play Chinese jump rope with just two people, you dope?”

  “Well, for the third player we could use a chair, and loop the jump rope around its legs. That would work!”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Then your birthday would have a theme,” she said, “because first we’d play Chinese jump rope and then we’d eat at that Chinese restaurant, Benihoohoo’s or whatever.”

  I acted all offended. “It’s Benihana’s, Dinah. Please. And it’s Japanese, not Chinese, all right?”

  “But ... I don’t know how to play Japanese jump rope,” Dinah said.

  We both cracked up, because it sounded so silly: Japanese jump rope. Amanda, who was on her way back from getting her milk, paused by our table and said, “Hey, you two. What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Benihoohoo’s,” Dinah whispered, and we got all chortle-y again.

  “Huh?” Amanda said.

  I made myself calm down. “We were just talking about my birthday, that’s all.”

  “Oh, yeah? Are you going to hav
e a pizza party again?”

  My laughter dried up for real as I grasped what I’d just walked into. I searched for an acceptable answer, but my brain was frozen. “Um, well ...”

  “Her mom said no big party,” Dinah said. “This year it’s Sandra’s turn, and next month Sandra’s going to have her whole class spend the night to celebrate turning sixteen. Well, not the boys, obviously. Anyway, Winnie’s mom says that that’s enough stress to last a lifetime.”

  I balled up my napkin. I didn’t know if Dinah was as oblivious to the situation as she was acting, or if she was chattering on and on because of how awkward it was.

  “So you don’t get to have a party at all?” Amanda said. “That’s so unfair!”

  Dinah glanced at me, and I could tell by her expression that she did get it. I could have said nothing—just let Amanda keep thinking what she already thought—and Dinah would have understood. But that would have been like hiding Dinah’s and my friendship, and I’d done that too much already.

  “Mom and Dad are taking me out for a fancy dinner,” I said in a small voice. A knot formed in my stomach. “I only get to invite one friend.”

  Amanda scrunched her forehead, maybe wondering why I was only now telling her. Then she understood. She blushed. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I, um, kind of invited Dinah.”

  She nodded to show she’d figured that out. “That’s great.”

  “But I didn’t ... I mean, I never meant to—”

  “No, really. That’s awesome. I’ll, you know, probably be doing something with Gail that night anyway.”

  She gave me a lopsided smile, which after a moment I returned. A look passed between us that made my heart hurt.

  “What’s going on?” Gail demanded, approaching our table. She eyed me and Dinah suspiciously. “Amanda, aren’t you coming?”

  “I’ll be there in a second,” Amanda said.

  “You have to come now,” Gail said. “Robert says he’s going to eat your brownie if you don’t claim it.”

  “So let him,” Amanda said. “Anyway, it’s all dry and crumbly.” But she followed Gail toward their table.

  “Bye,” Dinah said softly.

  Amanda didn’t hear her, but Gail did, and she blasted Dinah with her glare. Dinah drew back, and I slowly exhaled.

  Usually during recess we run off in groups of two or three and do whatever we want, but sometimes, like today, all the girls clustered near the swing set and came up with ideas together.

  “Let’s work on our cartwheels,” Louise suggested. Louise took gymnastics lessons after school and she was always wanting to show off.

  “Excuse me, but no,” Gail said.

  “Why not?” asked Louise.

  Gail rolled her eyes and gestured to her outfit, which consisted of a short blue skirt and a white shirt.

  My thought was, Well, you shouldn’t have worn such a short skirt. But Louise looked embarrassed and said, “Oh. Right.”

  Gail examined her nails. “Plus, and I don’t mean to be rude, but ...”

  “What?”

  Gail shot a sideways glance at Dinah. She still had it out for her, which I didn’t understand. Sometimes I thought it was actually me she didn’t like, only she couldn’t be too mean to me because of Amanda, so she picked on Dinah as the next best thing.

  At any rate, she turned back to Louise and said, “It’s just that a few of us have talked about it, and it’s really kind of embarrassing the way certain people bounce around, especially when they’re not wearing a bra. Especially with the boys right near by.”

  Dinah blushed, but she wasn’t the only one. As far as I knew, lots of the girls in our grade didn’t wear a bra. I sure didn’t.

  Did Gail? I checked her shoulder. Under her shirt was a strap-size ridge.

  “I know, let’s play Truth or Dare,” she proclaimed. “It’ll give us practice for junior high.” She scanned the circle. “Chantelle. Truth or Dare?”

  “Me? Uh, truth. No, dare! No, truth.” She covered her face with her hands. “Truth.”

  “Who do you think is the hottest boy in the grade?”

  I let out my breath, which I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. With the mood Gail was in, I guess I’d been afraid she would ask something embarrassing, or something not very nice. But asking Chantelle who she thought was hot was like asking a teacher if we really needed to learn math. Everyone knew exactly what she’d say.

  “That’s easy,” Chantelle said. “Tyrone Williams. And now it’s my turn, right?” She tapped her finger against her lip. “Okay, Lacey. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth.”

  “Did you really go on the Scream Machine sixteen times when your uncle took you to Six Flags?”

  Lacey’s mouth dropped open, and everyone laughed. “I did!” she protested. “You can ask my uncle!”

  Lacey asked Maxine if she still wore days-of-the-week underwear, and Maxine, after making a face and saying no, asked Cara if she’d marry Mr. Hutchinson, if she were old enough and if Mr. Hutchinson proposed. And Louise, one of the few people to take a dare, skipped around the basketball court singing the Sesame Street song, just because Cara said she had to.

  I laughed along with the others, and when Sheila dared me to climb to the top of the swing set, I shimmied up the pole in fifteen seconds flat, then slid back down like a firefighter heading for a rescue. Everyone cheered, and I grinned and flexed my arms. My biceps were like small, hard eggs.

  But then the questions got trickier, like have you ever held hands with a boy or have you ever kissed a boy, things like that. My body tensed, although I tried not to let it show.

  Gail, however, was loving it. “Yeah, right,” she said when Louise bragged about holding Grant’s hand on our field trip to the planetarium. “Then why didn’t anyone see?”

  “Because it was dark,” Louise said.

  “Not that dark,” Gail replied.

  And when Cara mumbled that she might have kissed a boy, but she wasn’t one hundred percent positive, Gail snorted like that was the dumbest thing she’d ever heard. “Either you kissed him or you didn’t,” Gail said. “Unless ... oh, God. You’re not talking about your dad or your brother or someone, are you? Because that does not count as a kiss, Cara, unless you’re more desperate than I thought.”

  The rest of us giggled nervously. Dinah, too, although she shouldn’t have, because Gail turned at the sound of her voice. The way she gazed at her made my throat close.

  “All right, Dinah,” she said. “Truth or dare?”

  Dinah stopped giggling. “But, um, it’s not your turn. It’s Cara’s.”

  “Cara doesn’t mind,” Gail said. “Do you, Cara?”

  Cara blinked. She inched backward.

  “Now, truth or dare?” Gail asked Dinah. “Or are you too much of a baby?”

  Color rose in Dinah’s cheeks. “I guess truth,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Truth.”

  “All right, all right! I’m not deaf, you know.”

  Dinah hugged her arms around her ribs, and I saw her shiver. I wished we were anywhere but here.

  “So,” Gail said. “Dinah. Not counting your father, and not counting any other relative like a grandfather or an uncle or a nephew, have you ever kissed a boy?”

  Dinah’s hand crept toward her mouth. She chewed her thumbnail.

  “Have you?” Gail demanded.

  Dinah took her thumb away from her mouth. “Alex Plotkin,” she said in a wavery voice. “On Valentine’s Day. He kissed me in the parking lot, after school let out.”

  My stomach dropped. On Valentine’s Day, Dinah had come home with me. Together we left the building, and together we waited by the curb for Mom to arrive.

  “He did not,” Gail said.

  “He did, too!”

  Gail arched her eyebrows. She pivoted toward the basketball court and called, “Alex! Could you come here, please?”

  “Gail ...” Amanda said uneasily.

  �
�What? I just want to ask him if it’s true.”

  Some of the girls exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke out.

  Alex crossed the playground, along with David, Peter, and Toby. Dinah tensed beside me. Her eyes flew to mine.

  “What’s up?” Alex asked.

  “We just have a question for you,” Gail said. “We just want to know if you—”

  “No!” I cried. My heart whammed in my chest, but I made myself step forward. “No one cares who somebody kissed or didn’t kiss, so just shut up, okay?”

  “What are you talking about?” Alex said. “Who kissed who?”

  “No one,” I said. “No one kissed anyone, but that’s not the point.”

  “Then what is the point, Winnie?” Gail asked.

  “The point ...” I said. “The point is ...”

  She smirked.

  “The point is that you are not the boss of things just because you wear a bra!”

  David and Peter hooted, and Alex cackled his horsey laugh.

  “A bra!” he crowed. “You’re not the boss of things because you wear a bra!”

  “A feminine support garment,” said David.

  “An over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder!” said Peter.

  Gail turned bright red. She glared and said, “You’re just jealous because you don’t!”

  “She is not,” Dinah said, moving up beside me. She linked her arm through mine.

  “A brassiere,” Toby said in a phony French accent.

  Lacey and Maxine snickered because he sounded so dumb.

  “It’s not funny,” Gail said. “I said it’s not funny! Anyway, laughing causes wrinkles!”

  “Oh, please,” Lacey said. She broke free from the circle. “I’m going to play on the balance beam. Maxine, want to come?”

  “Sure,” Maxine said.

  Karen hesitated for a moment, then hurried after them. “Hey, wait for me!”

  The guys headed back toward the basketball court, shoving one another and making more bra jokes. Cara and Sheila wandered to the jungle gym, while Chantelle and Louise hovered near Gail, reassuring her with pats and quick words.

  Dinah’s body relaxed against me. First she giggled, and then I joined in, as giddiness filled us up. Amanda looked at the two of us, and for a second I thought she was going to come over. But Gail clutched her sleeve, and she turned away.