11 Birthdays

by Wendy Mass

  “Our parents had a good sense of humor,” Laurence adds.

  Leo nods. “They must have.”

  Larry looks directly at me when he asks Leo, “Doesn’t your friend here talk?” I shrink back a bit.

  Leo pretends not to have heard him and asks, “Are you the guys looking for a drummer?”

  In response, Larry gestures across the room to a drum set. “Hey, you kids gonna interview us for your school paper or something? ’Cause if that’s the case, we’ve got a lotta people to see today.”

  Leo shakes his head. “You can stop looking because I have your new drummer right here.”

  The Larrys look around. “Where?”

  “Right here,” Leo says, pointing to me. I try to duck behind him, but he steps out of the way. I give a halfhearted wave.

  The Larrys look amused. “So, you’re our new drummer? How long you been playing?”

  For some reason I still can’t talk.

  “Since our second birthday,” Leo boasts.

  “You remember our second birthday?” I ask, finally finding my voice.

  “I remember all our birthdays,” he replies.

  “She speaks!” Larry says, clapping his hands together.

  “Hey, so you guys are twins, too?” Laurence says. “Cool!”

  “No, we just have the same birthday,” Leo explains.

  “So you’re twins!” Larry declares. “We gotta let a fellow twin audition.”

  I open my mouth to explain that we’re really not twins, but Leo elbows me in the ribs. “Yup, we’re twins all right. Sis here is older by two minutes.”

  “And I bet she holds it over you every chance she gets,” Larry says, nodding knowingly.

  “She sure does,” Leo agrees, giving Larry a high five.

  “Oh, brother,” I mutter.

  “Come on then, let’s hear it,” Laurence says, handing me a pair of drumsticks. It feels strange holding someone else’s drumsticks. Mine are worn in so my fingers automatically know where to go for perfect balance. I try handing them back, but Leo pushes me toward the drum set. “Remember,” he whispers, “no consequences.”

  I sit down on the stool, feeling foolish. My foot doesn’t even reach the pedal for the bass drum. Larry comes over and lowers the stool while I glare at Leo.

  I position the drumsticks in my hands, and I admit, it feels good to hold them.

  “The traditional grip,” Larry says, nodding appreciatively. “Nice. Don’t see that much anymore.”

  I KNEW I shouldn’t have learned how to play from Dad’s old books! I look over the drums. They’re much nicer than mine. More cymbals and a row of little drums that my set doesn’t have. I move my wrists around, watching the sticks move in circles in the air. Laurence glances at his watch. It’s like gymnastics tryouts all over again. But this time instead of my arms, it’s the sticks that are waving. I haven’t been able to play these last few days and a part of me really wants to let out all my energy, all my frustration, and just bang those drums. But the rest of me just twists the sticks in the air, stalling.

  Leo is urging me on with his eyes. Any second, one of the Larrys is going to tell us we’re wasting their time. Now or never. You can do this, I tell myself. No consequences. Closing my eyes, I picture myself sitting alone in my basement playing. Almost of their own volition, my sticks move toward the snare drum. Inside my head I hear the familiar one and a two and a three and a four. My hands move from drum to drum, to high hat, to bass. I keep counting in my head. The sticks are heavier than mine, so it takes a few beats until I feel comfortable controlling them. The sounds the different drums make are deeper and fuller somehow, than mine. These are really excellent drums. My eyes are open now and I’m banging away, like Leo said. I catch his eye and he’s grinning, slapping his hand against his leg along to the beat.

  A few minutes later Larry comes over and rests his hand on the high hat, just a second before I’m about to hit it. I put the sticks down on my lap.

  “You’re good, kid,” he says. “But we can’t take you on account that you ARE a kid. Wouldn’t be good for business, you understand.”

  I nod and hop off the stool, half exhilarated, half glad it’s over. My arms are a little shaky as I hand him back the sticks.

  “Thanks for coming in, though,” Laurence says. “Here, have this.” He tosses me what looks like a black ball. It turns out to be a rolled-up black T-shirt like the ones they’re wearing. He gives one to Leo, too. We hold them up to our chests. Leo’s might fit him in a year or so, but mine looks like it will be a nightgown for years to come.

  “Thanks,” I tell the twins as they walk us to the stairs. “Thanks for letting me play. It was fun.” And it WAS fun. It really was.

  “No problem. Come back in ten years. And send down the next guy. Or girl. Or whoever.”

  We bound up the stairs two at a time and tell the guy who was waiting there before that he can go down. When we get outside, Leo says, “You were awesome! You were definitely born to rock!”

  “And I have the T-shirt to prove it!”

  “I know I pushed you into that, I mean, I know I actually had to push you, but seriously, you were really good.”

  “It was fun. But no more pushing. I’m getting bruised!”

  “Deal. And to celebrate, let’s go to the mall. You can buy anything you want, as long as it’s under ten dollars and you have a gift card for it!”

  “I don’t know about the mall. We’ll be the only kids there, people are gonna notice.”

  “Nah, they’ll just think our parents are in another store, or that school got out already. Let’s just go for a little while.”

  “You want to go to the arcade, don’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he admits.

  “All right, just for half an hour. I want to make sure I get home long before my dad wakes up.”

  The Willow Falls mall is on the outskirts of town, near where the old apple grove used to be. By the time we get there my scooter’s down to one-quarter power. I hope we’ll have enough left to get us home. I wish we had thought to get a lock for the scooters. Leo finds a big bush in the parking lot where we hide them as best as we can. We bring our helmets in with us. Unfortunately the arcade is at the other end from where we enter.

  “Try to look casual,” Leo whispers.

  So we stroll (casually) down the main hallway, sticking close to the storefronts so we don’t attract too much attention. Leo lazily swings his helmet. The mall is pretty empty and I start to relax. I’ve never been to the mall without one of my parents before. If I wasn’t so hyper from my audition, I’m sure I’d feel more nervous. I guess I’m just a drum-playing, mall-shopping kinda girl now!

  We’re about to step on the escalator when a hand grips my shoulder. It’s too big by far to be Leo’s. I stop in my tracks and turn around. The hand belongs to a mall security guard and he has his other hand on Leo’s shoulder. The man looks older than my grandfather. For such an old guy, he has a surprisingly strong grip. Leo’s face has drained of its color. Just like that, the happiness I felt falls to the floor.

  “You the Ellerby girl and the Fitzpatrick boy?” We nod, eyes wide. In a shaky voice, Leo asks, “How do you know our names?”

  He relaxes his grip. “Let’s take a walk to the security office.”

  I give Leo a worried look.

  “Boy, oh boy,” says the officer. “I thought someone was playing a trick on me when I got a missing-kid call with those names. Ellerby and Fitzpatrick, sure! There was a time when that was all you’d hear in this town. But that ain’t been for decades.”

  Leo and I exchange puzzled glances. Maybe this guy is getting senile. He’s not making any sense.

  He continues, prodding us forward. “But no joke, eh? You two seem pretty real to me.”

  “What do you mean you got a missing-kid call?” Leo asks. “Who knows we’re missing?”

  “Everyone, I expect,” he says.

  The door marked SECURITY looms ahead. I stil
l can’t figure this out. Did I forget something when we made this plan? Did my dad forget to cancel my doctor’s appointment and Mrs. Grayson came over to get me?

  Before I can ask the security guard for more information, we hear screaming. “There they are!” Four very anxious parents run up to us. Mom must have left work. Even more surprising, Kylie is here, too. They all look pretty ragged. Mom’s careful makeup is smeared, and Dad is still wearing his blue pajamas under his jacket. Kylie is pale through her makeup. She glares at me and a blast of anger shoots out of her eyes.

  Our parents grab us, hug us, then push us away. “What were you thinking?” my mother yells.

  “We’ve taught you better than this!” Leo’s mom says. She tries to yell it, but she can’t quite achieve the level of volume my mom can.

  Mom’s voice is practically shaking with anger. “Imagine how surprised I was, young lady, when your father called me from work to tell me he couldn’t find you.”

  “But I thought Dad was sleeping… .” I say weakly.

  “I was,” Dad says, his voice even hoarser than before, “until Mrs. Fitzpatrick called to see if Leo was at our house. Imagine my shock when your room was empty. Then imagine all the horrible things that went through my mind about what could have happened to you.”

  My mouth has gone dry. I don’t think he really wants an answer. I also don’t think this is a good time to point out that if I had been allowed to own a cell phone, he could have just called me.

  “But Mom,” Leo says, “how did you know I wasn’t in school?”

  His mom is still holding him by the arm, as though he might run off again. “You left the sign and streamers for Amanda’s locker on your desk. You spent so much time on them last night, cutting out the different letters, trimming the streamers. I didn’t want you to be disappointed, so I drove them over to the school. Do I need to tell you the principal doesn’t look highly on students forging their parents’ signatures?”

  Leo looks at his feet and shakes his head.

  “Look,” Dad says, stroking my hair. “We’re glad you’re okay, and that the two of you have obviously made up. It was Kylie who suggested we check the gift pile, and sure enough, we found the empty box of gift cards. We figured sooner or later you’d wind up here. I just never would have expected this from you, Amanda.” He turns to Leo. “From either of you.”

  A small crowd has formed, watching the exchange with interest. “Can we go home now?” I ask in a small voice.

  “Fine, let’s go,” Mom snaps. “You’ll have a lot of time to think about what you’ve done while you’re sitting alone in your room all night. No birthday cake, no presents, and since your party’s already canceled on account of you being ‘sick,’ we’re going to leave it that way.”

  Leo turns to his parents. “I guess my party’s canceled, too, right?”

  His father shakes his head. Leo’s face falls, clearly hoping to not have to sit through Hop-along Willie and the Knee-slapping Five again. “We don’t want to disappoint your guests. The ones who DIDN’T cut school and give their parents heart attacks. Plus, it’s too late to cancel the entertainment. But believe me, the second it’s over you’re grounded for a long, long time.”

  Leo and I don’t have a chance to speak without being overheard until we’re in the parking lot. “Well,” he whispers, only moving one side of his mouth. “I did warn you we might get in trouble.”

  I nod slightly, aware my mother is watching my every move. “Guess I should have let you decorate my locker after all!”

  “You’re right!” he says, forgetting to keep his voice down. “It’s YOUR fault!”

  Dad piles both scooters into the trunk of our station wagon, and Kylie and I climb in the backseat. She still hasn’t said a word to me. Leo’s parents follow us in their car and we both pull up in front of the Schwartzes’ house. They make us wheel the scooters up to the front door and apologize for “borrowing” them. It’s humiliating. The walk from the Schwartzes’ porch to the sidewalk feels a little like walking the plank. This would be a really bad time to have Saturday finally show up.

  “Say good-bye to Leo, Amanda,” Mom says as we reach the sidewalk and our waiting mothers. “It’s going to be a long time till you two spend another birthday together.”

  “I doubt that,” I mumble under my breath. Out loud I say, “Bye, Leo, see you in history class. You know, on Monday.”

  “Right,” he says, stifling a grin. “See you Monday. I’ve heard a rumor there’s gonna be a pop quiz.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Never in my life have I been so happy to see a balloon. I twirl SpongeBob around the room, dancing like I’ve just gotten out of jail. Which in a way I have. Last night was horrible. It was even worse than when Mom thought I had sabotaged her presentation. Even though I apologized like a million times, no one spoke to me. Mom wouldn’t even let me talk to Stephanie when she called to find out if I was feeling better. The only good thing to come out of the day is that for the first time, Mom didn’t get fired. I guess her boss thought that firing her on the day her daughter goes missing would just be rude. Being grounded gave me time to reflect on everything that’s going on, and I can’t wait to get to school to talk to Leo.

  I leave SpongeBob floating happily and run to my parents’ room. I knock on the door impatiently until Mom opens it, rollers still in her hair. “What is it? Is everything okay?”

  I throw my arms around her and hold tight. Laughing, she peels me off of her. “You must be really happy to be turning eleven today!”

  “Oh, I am!” I exclaim. “Like you wouldn’t believe!”

  She steps back a little. “Where’d you get that nightshirt? I don’t recognize it.”

  I look down and am shocked to see the words BORN TO ROCK across my chest. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I won it at school yesterday. For guessing how many jelly beans were in a fishbowl.”

  “I see.”

  “Where’s Dad?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “He just went downstairs to make some tea. He’s not feeling well. I’m sorry but you’ll have to take the bus today.”

  “That’s okay!” I say, already halfway down the stairs. I find Dad as he’s fishing through the cabinet for a mug. Before he can even turn around I give him a huge hug from behind. He twists to see who it is.

  “Well, that’s a nice greeting from the birthday girl,” he says, then coughs for a full minute. I don’t let go until he’s done. Before he can ask why I’m hugging him, I run to the front door and look down the block. I can see Kylie heading back toward the house so I run outside in my bare feet to meet her.

  “Whoa!” she says as I plow into her. “What are you DOING? Get off me!”

  I hang on tight. “Can’t a girl just hug her big sister?”

  She stops fighting me. “Are you dying? Am I dying? Did Grandma die?”

  I laugh. “No one died.”

  “Then get off!” She pushes me again, and this time I let go. She runs back into the house, and I follow, whistling happily. Then, suddenly inspired, I run onto the middle of my lawn and do my best back handspring ever. Which is to say that I still didn’t do it right, but at least I’m not on my butt on the dewy grass.

  I hurry upstairs to get dressed, slipping on the same jeans I wore yesterday, now folded in the drawer, of course. I reach into the pocket to get the poem Leo gave me. It’s not there. I check the other pockets. Why would the band’s T-shirt have made it across the boundary, but not the poem? I hope Leo has another copy.

  I race up the steps of the bus, wishing there was an even faster way to get to school.

  “You must really be anxious to get to school,” the bus driver says with a smile.

  I bob my head up and down. “I am!” I plop in the seat right behind her. Why shout for Stephanie when we can sit right here? The driver hums as she maneuvers the bus down the tree-lined streets. When I took the bus last month it was a guy driver. This lady is so small her feet barely r
each the pedals!

  When we get to school I run to my locker, and light up when I see it’s fully decorated. And this time there’s a folded piece of notebook paper sticking out of it.

  “Who’s it from?” Stephanie asks, leaning over my shoulder. “A secret admirer?”

  I shake my head. “It’s from Leo.” I wait for her reaction, hoping it was the right decision to say that. But I figure he and I really need to talk, and it’s better than hiding from our friends again.

  She doesn’t even blink. “It’s about time you two made up.” Guess I don’t have to worry about her being jealous.

  I reach over and snatch the lollipop from the floor. I place it in her hand.

  “What’s this for?”

  The warning bell rings before I can tell her it’s for being a good friend. She jams the lollipop into her pocket and runs down the hall. I take the note into class with me and open it at my desk while Ms. Gottlieb writes on the board.

  A —

  Yesterday was really great. You know, doing all the stuff we’d never have the nerve to do. I hope last night wasn’t too horrible for you. I felt so bad that I scared my parents like that. You’re so lucky you didn’t have your party. Mom glared at me the whole night and all the people from your party came over and it was so hot and crowded. I think most of the kids only wanted to see the hypnotist and Paul the Ball. I’m pretty sure NO ONE wanted to hear the band! Let’s just pass notes today, instead of cutting. That didn’t work out so good.

  — Leo

  As I read the note a thought strikes me. As soon as the quiz is graded and handed in, I rip out a piece of notebook paper and write back.

  Leo —

  I just thought of something. You haven’t said anything about the hypnotist guy. What was he like? Do you think it’s possible that he could’ve hypnotized you into thinking every day was your birthday? And maybe because it’s my birthday, too, I got sucked in somehow? W/B/S.

  — A