I nodded, my heart beating fast. A stack of presents? For me. This was amazing.
Everyone arrived at once, and it was instantly noisy and wonderful. Mom greeted the kids at the door, and met most of the moms and a few dads.
The radio was playing, and the stack of presents was growing. In the living room, everyone was claiming a spot, and rolling out their sleeping bags. Soon there wasn't a speck of carpet in sight, just a sea of multicolored rectangles, like a patchwork quilt. They saved a place for me right in the middle, with Elizabeth right beside me.
The party was absolutely wonderful. I opened my presents. I had gotten a cool shirt, some gift certificates, some mystery books, a game, and some makeup. I had never gotten so many presents in my life.
We ate popcorn until it was gone, devoured the pizzas and gallons of soda. We watched three movies, one right after another. I showed everyone my room, and they were very impressed that I had helped to paint it. I felt very proud.
"You are really cool," declared Claire.
It was very late at night when the TV was turned off. Everyone settled into their sleeping bags, and Mary told a ghost story. It wasn't very scary, but we screamed anyway. I think the screaming was more scary than the story.
After a while, the room was really quiet, just filled with breathing sounds. But I was wide awake.
"Isabel?" I heard Elizabeth's soft voice by my ear. "Are you still awake?"
"Yep. Are you having a good time at my party?"
"The best. I'm glad we're friends."
"You're my best friend, Elizabeth." I said it with pride. I had never had a best friend before.
"You're my best friend, too." Her voice sounded a little shaky, and I knew she really meant it. "Maybe you can come over to my house next weekend."
"Great. That would be fun!"
I was so absolutely happy, I couldn't believe it. I still didn't want to go to sleep, because then it would be morning and the party would be over. But my eyes were feeling really droopy, so I closed them for a minute.
The next thing I knew it was morning and the room was full of sunlight.
Chapter 14
We had a giant breakfast when we all woke up. Mom had made stacks and stacks of pancakes, with fresh orange juice and hot chocolate. We topped it off with donuts. Before I knew it, horns were honking, and parents were arriving. Sleeping bags were rerolled, and the trash was cleaned up.
"Thanks, Isabel!" called one girl after another, as each ride arrived. "See you Monday!"
And then it was quiet. Mom and I stood looking at each other, amidst the bags of trash and recycled cans in the kitchen.
"Well, Isabel," she began. "Was it OK? Did you have a good party?"
"Thanks Mom," I said. "It was great." I felt happy inside, but all of a sudden, there were tears running down my cheeks. My mom came over and hugged me, and didn't mention the tears, which was good. I get very embarrassed when anyone sees me cry.
"It was very exciting, Isabel. Your first big party. But not your last. The girls were great, and you'll have them here again. You have friends now."
I nodded, not sure of my voice. The phone rang. It was for me.
"Isabel, this is Elizabeth. We're going to the mall to get sneakers tomorrow. Do you want to come? You can use some of your gift certificates! My mom will drive us."
Mom agreed, and I said yes. I couldn't believe it.
"You ought to get a nap, Isabel," suggested Mom. She was on her way to the supermarket. "I have a feeling you didn't sleep too much last night."
I watched her go, and then I started upstairs. My eyes were scratchy with tiredness, and I felt a little stiff from sleeping on the floor, but most of all, I just felt happy.
Without even thinking about it, I passed the door to my room, and opened the attic door instead. I hadn't been up in the attic since the day I had found the magic bottle. I still carried it around in my pocket, but I hadn't felt like I need it for days. I trooped up the dark attic steps, listening as they creaked. I just felt like being near Gram, and the closest I was going to get would be to be near her stuff.
At the top of the steps, I wrapped myself in one of her crocheted quilts, and curled up in her rocking chair.
"You should have seen me, Gram. The girls were all here, and they all had fun. I got presents, and heard stories, and made friends. I have friends, Gram. Isabel Robbins has friends. I sure wish you could have see it.”
The tears were running down my face again, but I didn't really mind, and I didn't think that Gram would have minded either. I closed my eyes, wrapping the quilt around me because the attic felt pretty chilly. I fell fast asleep in Gram's old wooden rocking chair.
Chapter 15
In school on Monday, everybody was still talking about the party, and the fun they'd had. Elizabeth and I sat with a whole table of girls at lunch. We discussed hairstyles, and compared sandwiches, and then complained about the stinky science test we took right before lunch.
I had studied hard, and I probably know more about the solar system than most aliens from space at this point, but Mrs. Perkins had managed to dredge up some questions that had stumped me. Leave it to Mrs. Perkins. We were anxious to get it back.
"Remember when Isabel couldn't name the planets," said Claire, bringing me out of my daydreaming at the lunch table. "Remember when she said "Krypton"? That was SO funny!"
I could feel my face start to turn radish red, my new found excitement about life crumbling around me. I was being teased.
I shut my eyes tight, willing the tears away. Thousands of lonely memories began to dance through my brain. No one likes you. No one likes you, my brain chanted.
I opened my eyes again, almost hoping that I would find myself in another place. But I was still there, right at the lunch table, with Claire grinning wildly in my face. I could feel the blue magic bottle in my pocket. Disappearing sounded good right about now. But three minutes wouldn't be enough time. Three light years, maybe. I left the bottle in my pocket.
"That's what I like about you, Isabel," Claire babbled on. "You are so clever, even when you get stuck. Krypton. I mean, really, I couldn't have thought that up under pressure if you gave me a million years."
There was a chorus of agreement from the table.
Clever? What she likes about me? I thought I was going to pass out from relief. I wasn't being teased, at least not in a mean way. In a friendly way, maybe, but that was OK.
“It's a good thing she didn't ask me to list some major constellations,” I quipped, my face feeling cooler, and hopefully returning more or less to its natural color. "You should have heard some of the doozies I would have made up!"
Every body laughed at that. They laughed WITH me, not AT me. Now you may think that a laugh is just a laugh, but let me tell you, there is a very great difference. Take it from one who knows.
Now, while the girls were all friendly and cheerful to me, I was noticing a subtle difference in the boys. The boys, it seemed, were a little jealous that they had not been included in the party that they were hearing about. Now this makes absolutely no sense at all, of course, since it was a girl's sleepover party, but they seemed to feel left out, anyway. Who can figure out how boys think? Not me, for sure.
They didn't act angry or anything, just a little hurt. Except Milton.
"Who cares about Isabel and her dumb party?" I had heard Milton say. Milton liked to be mean.
The science test was handed back and it wasn't as bad as we thought. Since even Brenda the Brainiac had missed a couple of questions, Mrs. Perkins curved the grades a little, so everyone was satisfied (Except Milton. He got a 40%. That shoots down the theory that he is from another planet. A space traveller would have done better on the test. But I didn't tease him, not one word. Like I said, I know how that feels.)
After school, I got off the bus. The neighborhhood was really quiet. Mrs. Davis and Danny had gone out, Mom wasn't home yet, and no one was working in their yard. I got myself a big glass of lemona
de from the refrigerator, and finished my homework on the porch swing.
I was feeling happy, and thinking about how much my life had changed since finding Gram's magic blue bottle in the attic. I was doing better in school, had even become a math tutor. I had friends, and had a really cool party. I was even learning to play soccer (a little).
Now that I was smart, cool, and popular, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I figured that my problems were just about over.
I figured wrong. Over the rim of my lemonade glass, just after taking a giant sip, I saw a flash of motion in the distance. I looked up, my focus locking on the blur that was becoming clearing, larger, and scarier as it got closer.
Can you guess? It was Milton on his bike.
Be calm, Isabel, I was telling myself, though for some reason my knees were shaking. You are not a chicken now. You are smart and popular and brave. You are not afraid of Milton the Maniac any more.
But I don't like lying, I like the truth. And the truth was - Milton still terrified me.
I wanted to pretend that he would pass right by, but something told me that was not going to be the case. Milton was moving at quite a ferocious pace, right down the middle of the street. When he got closer to my house, he roared over to the edge of the road. With a mighty grunt, jerked his bike up so that he jumped right over the curb and onto the sidewalk.
Now if I had tried that feat, I can assure you that I would have done a flip and a half over the handlebars, and would have lost my teeth in the process. But Milton is strong. Very strong.
He skidded to a stop right in front of the porch, making my worst nightmares come true.
"Well, if it isn't Isabel the party animal. Are you done showing off now?" He was glaring at me, and my mouth felt very dry, even with a mouthful of lemonade.
"Go away, Milton," I croaked, swallowing hard, and trying to sound cool and calm. He didn't buy it.
"Go away, Milton," he mimicked in a sing song voice. "It's a free country, I can sit right hear all day if I want. After all, who's going to stop me?"
Certainly not me, that's for sure. I knew it, and he knew it. My feet wouldn't move. I felt like they were stuck with super glue. My mouth opened and shut a few times, so I probably looked a lot like a fish. But no words would come out.
I didn't run away (not out of bravery, mind you, it was just because of stuck feet), I didn't answer him back. I just stood there, like the chicken that I was.
After a few minutes, he got tired of staring me down, and he started laughing really wildly. He spun his bike around, planting his back tire in my mom's beloved fall flower bed. Then he pedaled hard, spinning his rear tire. The dirt spewed out the back as Milton and his bike took off.
He was long gone by the time that I could move again. I looked around, feeling almost dazed. The lemonade glass had slipped from my hand somehow, and had fallen to the porch floor. There was broken glass, and sticky, drippy lemonade everywhere, including on my shoe.
The sidewalk was covered with soft black dirt, and one of my mom's mum plants had been uprooted. What a mess.
I picked up the glass, then rinsed the porch of with a bucket of hot water. We'd probably be attacked by ants from the sugar, with my luck.
I took a broom and swept the dirt back into the flower bed, replanting the bush, and hoping that its roots hadn't been wrecked by the maniac's bike.
When I got done, things looked pretty good. Of course, we were missing a glass, and my sneakers were going to need a washing. But Milton had done more damage, impossible to fix. He had damaged me, Isabel, taking away all my good feelings.
He had proved to me that I was still a chicken, still afraid to stand up for what was right. I had no courage. When all was said and done, the happiness I had felt these past weeks wasn't real. I was a loser, friends or no friends.
I went up to my room, and cried into my pillow. I didn't even dare to go up into the attic. Gram would have been disappointed in me, I was sure.
I thought of the invisible potion. I'd like to give Milton a bath in the stuff, make him disappear forever. But even that wouldn't change the fact that Isabel Robbins was a chicken.
I cried myself to sleep, and didn't wake up until Mom called me for dinner.
Chapter 16
It's funny how one thing leads to another. I ate my dinner without talking, and Mom didn't ask too many questions. She kept looking at me in a funny way, though.
"How was school?"
"It was ok, Mom. Actually great." I didn't bother to add that it was "after school" that had me thrown for a loop.
"You don't look like you feel too well."
She said it first, so it was really her idea, but I have to admit it sounded good.
"Yeah, well I really don't. I feel a little sick."
I did feel sick. Sick in my heart. Sick of myself.
"Why don't you just go to bed with a book, Isabel. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow."
Maybe elephants will sprout wings and sing.
"Good idea, Mom. That's what I'll do."
So I was back in bed by 7:30pm, a disgrace of a bedtime for a twelve year old, except if you are sick -- or a disgusting chicken.
My dreams were wild that night, where Milton was chasing me (I was wearing a chicken outfit) with a cleaver. I think I watch too many movies. I woke up even more tired than when I went to bed. Mom came in to check on me before she went to work.
"How do you feel, Isabel? You sure don't look too well."
Of course, since I hadn't looked peppy and great last night, and had spent most of the night avoiding Milton crashing through my dreams, I looked even worse.
"Maybe you better take the day off and stay in bed. I'll call the doctor for an appointment for tonight if you aren't feeling better. Maybe you're just overtired." She stroked my head while she talked, and it felt really good.
A day off! That sounded even better. That last thing that I wanted was to see Milton in person. A night mare was bad enough.
"Yeah, I'll stay home and rest." And hide, like the chicken I was.
Mom promised to call at lunch time from the hospital to check on me, and said goodbye.
I rolled over in my bed, pulled the covers over my head, and fell sound asleep. Milton, thankfully, stayed out of my dreams, and I slept for hours.
I have to admit that when I woke up, I felt great. I had only been up a few minutes when the phone rang. It was Mom.
"I feel fine, Mom," I said, sorry now that I had worried her. "I guess I was just tired. You don't have to call the doctor."
She sounded relieved. We have better ways to spend the money than to go to the doctor. Mom worries about money a lot. We inherited the house from Gram, which was terrific and all, but there wasn't a lot of money to pay for fixing it up. That's why Mom did the work herself, and why we are always really careful with our spending. I always dreamed that Mom would marry some really nice, rich guy, and I'd have a dad, and a gigantic allowance. So far, that's a joke.
My mom doesn't date. She has never had, to the best of my knowledge (remember I’m like Nancy Drew) a boyfriend. She just works and takes care of me, and reads books and goes to the library. Gram used to say that Mom was a little wary of men. My dad (the unknown Craig) had really broken her heart, and so she preferred to stay by herself.
Gram used to say that "Time cures all things", and that we shouldn't rush Mom. It seemed to me that enough time had gone by to cure anything that was going to be cured. Maybe Mom needed a little push in the right direction. After all, I'm twelve already, and if I'm ever going to have a dad, I think we should be working on it by now.
I pushed my thoughts of Milton out of my mind and concentrated on Mom's social life, instead. It was safer.
Mom was attractive, she had a good job, and many other talents (like painting). She was also funny, and understanding, and cheerful (most of the time). It seemed clear to me that she would make someone a most excellent wife. It also seemed clear that I would make someone a most excellen
t step-daughter.
The trick was, finding the right man.
Maybe we should place an ad in the paper. This thought made me giggle. I took a pad by the side of my bed, and began to write:
"Wanted: Attractive, kind, middle aged man. Must be willing to be a loving husband to a good looking nurse with one delightful twelve year old daughter. Must like kids and want to be a father. Love and a good sense of humor are necessary. Money is desirable but optional."
I pictured placing the ad in the paper, with our address at the end. I pictured bags and bags of mail arriving at our house with interesting letters from men who wanted the job. Then I pictured Mom's face if I breathed a word of this to her. Not a good idea.
I crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash. "Mind your own business," Gram would have said. Well, I would mind my own business the best I could, but I wouldn't turn down the chance to find someone special for Mom and me.
Since I was home on my sick day, and Milton was still in school, I knew I wouldn't run into him. I decided to take out my bike for a spin around the block. I wasn't feeling as bad as before. Tomorrow I would go to school and face his taunting. But today, I was going to take advantage of the bright October sun, and take a ride.
The neighborhood was really quiet. I rode around the block a few times, enjoying the air and the view. On my second lap around, I saw that Mr. Davis had parked his van in his driveway. He had arrived home early. Mrs. Clancy was just getting into her car to leave. She waved and smiled at me, and I waved back.
Since Danny is only in kindergarten, he only has a half day at school. He comes home to Mrs. Clancy for lunch. When Mr. Davis gets out of work early, he likes to spend his time with Danny.
On the next lap around, I saw them in the back yard of his house. He was pitching a wiffle ball to Danny, and Danny was trying to hit. They were laughing and having a good time. Danny was really lucky to have a dad like that. But then, I remembered Danny's sad little face when he talked about his mother having cancer. Danny might have a great dad, but he didn't have his mother.
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