Abby thought about it for the thousandth time. She wished she had the courage to talk to him—really talk and have an actual conversation—but she knew she’d somehow mess it up and humiliate herself. “Nope. Nope. And nope times infinity.”
“Abby!!!”
“Catriella!”
“Sorry, Mom.” Cat whispered, “Our apartment here is so small, she hears everything. So, what do you think will happen if you talk to him? Your head will explode?”
I’ll trip!
“You can do it. And you know what else you could do today?”
Abby rolled her eyes. “What? Run the Boston Marathon? Swim the English Channel? Climb Mount Everest?”
“Nah, those things are child’s play compared to this.”
“I’m listening.”
“When you go to Scoops Ahoy tonight with your moms, you could order a flavor of ice cream besides vanilla. Maybe mint chip. Chocolate marshmallow. Strawberry shortcake. Go wild!”
“Are you bananas? Vanilla’s the best flavor. End of story.”
“You’re hopeless, Abs. You know that, right?”
Abby smiled. She knew.
“Know what else you are?”
“What?”
“Twelve! Woo-hoo!”
“Woo-hoo!” Abby pumped her fist. “Finally caught up to you!”
“You did. Now go have the most amazing day ever.”
“Hey, Cat?”
“Yeah?”
“I… miss you.”
Cat’s lower lip quivered. “Yeah, me too.”
Ms. Wasserman’s eyeball filled the screen again.
Abby pressed herself backward.
“Sorry, Abigail. Catriella needs to hang up now and have dinner.”
“Mom!”
“Please give your moms my love, sweetheart. And have a happy birthday.”
“I will. Thank—”
The call disconnected.
Ms. Wasserman must have hung up.
The screen went black, but the image of Cat’s red-rimmed eyes and quivering lower lip lingered in Abby’s mind.
* * *
At Scoops Ahoy, after her birthday dinner with her moms, Abby ordered vanilla ice cream, but she also ordered a scoop of mint chip.
“Look at you trying something new,” Mama Dee said, pushing her short dark hair behind her right ear and slurping soda from her root beer float. “Attagirl!”
“A whole new you.” Mom Rachel nudged Abby’s shoulder. “Abby 2.0.”
Abby sat taller. Maybe she could be a different kind of person, one who tried new things, felt comfortable in large groups, and made friends easily. Perhaps with Cat gone, Abby could reinvent herself and become new and improved Abby 2.0.
Thinking of the possibilities, Abby put a spoonful of mint chip in her mouth.
The flavor was too strong. The chocolate pieces felt like pebbles on her tongue.
She didn’t like it.
* * *
Back home with the three of them on the couch and a pile of gifts on the living room floor, Mama Dee placed a plastic tiara with fake jewels and the words BIRTHDAY GIRL on top of Abby’s head. “There we go.”
“It’s bedazzled like Miss Lucy’s collar,” Mom Rachel said. “Now you and Miss Lucy can both be fancy-pants. We didn’t bother giving you the tiara while we were out.”
“Knew you wouldn’t wear it.” Mama Dee folded her hands in her lap. “No way would you do that.”
Abby wore the tiara only because it was just the three of them and Miss Lucy in the living room, and the moms promised no photos would be taken.
“Speaking of Princess Lucy…” Mom Rachel handed Abby a gift. “This one’s from her.”
Miss Lucy jumped onto the couch and curled up next to Mom Rachel.
“Thanks, Miss Lucy,” Abby said. “Wonder if Fudge swam out and got me a birthday present too.”
Mom Rachel gave Abby a playful shove.
Abby smiled and opened a package of pencils with dog erasers.
“For school,” Mama Dee said.
“Don’t remind me.”
“But it’s seventh grade,” Mom Rachel said. “I loved seventh grade.”
Abby sighed. “Did you start seventh grade without your best friend?”
“No,” Mom Rachel admitted. “I had a bunch of girlfriends back then.”
“My point exactly. I only have Cat, and she’s not here anymore.”
Mama Dee patted Abby’s knee. “You’ll join some clubs this year, kiddo. You’ll make new friends. You’ve got this, Abigail. Be tough.”
I won’t do either of those things, Abby thought. I’m not tough. And I definitely don’t have this. But maybe… Maybe Abby 2.0 will have this. A new school year. A new me. The possibility made Abby shiver with excitement.
Mom Rachel thrust a heavy package onto Abby’s lap. “This one’s from Paul. He got it for you before he left for camp.”
Paul never forgot her birthday, even though he was always at camp during it. Abby opened the card first. Inside, it said, A six-pack for Six-Pack.
It was a six-pack of root beer.
Mom Rachel shook her head. “That boy’s funny even when he’s not here.”
Abby carried the root beer into the kitchen and made room for it on a shelf in the fridge so it would be cold when she was ready for a treat.
When she got back, Mom Rachel handed Abby a huge package. “This is from us, sweetheart.”
Mama Dee leaned back and cracked her neck. “I’m getting old.”
Mom Rachel poked her. “If you’re old, then what am I? I’m four months older than you.”
“You’re youthful, Rach. And I’m a cranky old woman.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Mom Rachel said. “That’s what you are. We’re both still young.”
“But I’m younger,” Abby pointed out. “Sooooo much younger!”
Mama Dee shoved Abby playfully. “Don’t rub it in, Miss Smarty-Pants. Open your present so I can see what your mom got you.”
Abby smiled and unwrapped the gift. Inside the box were three tops and two pair of jeans, new underwear and socks, and a book—How to Be Your Best, Boldest Self.
Abby bit her bottom lip.
“For school,” Mom Rachel said.
“Thank you.”
“Best year yet.” She waved pretend pom-poms at Abby.
“Yup.” Seventh grade without Cat. “Best year yet.”
“Now, that’s our girl.” Mama Dee gave Abby a tight squeeze.
Abby felt like a fraud inside that squeeze. But she promised herself she’d try.
“Oh, there’s one more.” Mom Rachel handed Abby another package. “This came for you the other day. We thought we’d save it for your birthday.”
When Abby saw that the return address was from Israel, her heart fluttered. “It’s from Cat.”
Mom Rachel nodded. “That girl wouldn’t forget your big day.”
“Never,” Mama Dee added. “I’ll never know how we got lucky enough to have Miriam and Cat living next door to us. Best neighbors ever.”
Mama Dee’s words made Abby miss Cat even more, but at least she had a birthday gift from Cat. Abby carefully opened the package and unwrapped the present inside.
It was a beautiful wooden mezuzah with a brightly painted scene of Jerusalem on it. Abby ran her finger over the smooth surface, then peeked at the scroll hidden inside the back under a tiny piece of fabric. “It’s perfect.”
“It really is,” Mom Rachel said. “What a lovely gift.”
Abby squeezed the mezuzah, knowing Cat held it in her hands in Israel.
“Do you want to hang it now?” Mom Rachel asked.
“I can grab a hammer and a couple nails from the garage,” Mama Dee offered. “I think I have nails the right size to hang it.”
Abby knew exactly what she was supposed to do with the mezuzah. Hang it on a doorframe, say the blessing, and live by the tenets written on the tiny scroll inside. If she did those things, the mezuzah would protect her and her
family and keep everyone safe and remind them of their commitment to create a Jewish household. Cat had asked Abby why her family never hung a mezuzah on the doorframe of their house, since they celebrated the Jewish holidays. There were five different mezuzahs hanging in Cat’s house. Abby never had a good answer for her. They just didn’t have one. Now, thanks to Cat, they did. “Um, not right now.”
“Okay.” Mom Rachel leaned back and kicked off her shoes. “I’m exhausted.”
Mama Dee put her hands behind her head. “Me too. Maybe I’m not so old, just pooped.”
“That’s probably it.” Mom Rachel yawned.
Abby hugged her moms, nearly knocking off her BIRTHDAY GIRL tiara. “Thanks for a great day.”
“We love you, Abigail Rebecca Braverman,” Mama Dee said. “Newly minted twelve-year-old girl of ours.”
“With all our hearts.” Mom Rachel grabbed Mama Dee’s hand. “Aren’t we lucky, babe?”
“So lucky. Old. Tired. And incredibly lucky.”
Mom Rachel leaned her head on her shoulder. “I could fall asleep right here.”
“Me too,” Mama Dee murmured.
Abby smiled at her moms, then took her gifts to her room. She tucked the mezuzah into a box under her bed, where she kept important things like the poetry she’d written and the endless afghan she was crocheting. Abby planned to keep Cat’s special gift all to herself instead of hanging it up.
She hoped God didn’t mind.
* * *
Abby went to the kitchen to have one of the root beers from the six-pack Paul got her. It seemed like the perfect way to end her birthday.
Mama Dee was stuffing the last bits of wrapping paper into a bag.
“I’ll take it out,” Abby volunteered.
“Well, thank you, Abs.” Mama Dee handed her the bag. “Trash can’s already at the curb. I lugged it out earlier.”
Outside, sounds of croaking frogs filled the warm, hazy air. The nearly full moon shone brightly from a cloudless sky.
Abby stuffed the bag into their trash can by the street when she heard a noise from Cat’s house. She whirled around, half expecting Cat to come running toward her and tackle her with a hug.
But of course, there was no Cat. No hug.
It was New Boy, wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and basketball sneakers. He was dragging his family’s trash can to the curb.
Abby squeezed her hands into fists so tight, her nails bit into her palms. Oh, please don’t let me do anything stupid in front of him. She remembered Cat telling her she should say hello to him as a birthday present to herself. Abby 2.0 can do this, she told herself. Pretend you’re Cat and say something friendly. Abby planted her feet firmly so she wouldn’t trip. “Hey, there!”
The boy looked over.
Abby hunched her shoulders as if she could retract into a human shell.
“Oh, hey.” He smiled and waved.
Abby hadn’t anticipated him coming over, but he was walking toward her. Now she’d have to talk with him, and she had no idea how she’d manage that without Cat beside her. Every ounce of temporary bravery drained from her body.
The boy stood so close, his cologne made Abby want to sneeze. Don’t sneeze, she warned herself. And don’t trip.
Sweat dripped down her sides; she wasn’t sure if it was from the heat or from her nervousness.
“So, how old are you?” The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“Huh?” What a strange first question, Abby thought.
The boy pointed to the top of her head.
Abby’s hand shot up to discover she was still wearing the silly tiara. She yanked it off, pulling some hair out with it. She resisted the urge to rub her sore scalp and dumped the tiara into the trash can.
“Not a fan of tiaras, huh?”
“Uh, guess not.” Abby couldn’t believe she’d walked outside wearing that stupid tiara. “I’m twelve. Today. And for the rest of the year. Right?” Stop talking, Abby! And whatever you do, don’t trip again!
“Well, happy birthday…”
Abby waited for him to finish what he was saying but realized he was waiting for her. “Abby,” she said. “Abigail. Well, some people call me Abs.” Do not tell him Paul’s nickname for you. Whatever you do, don’t say that. “My brother calls me Six-Pack.” Disaster! Abort mission! Abby wanted to run into the house, dive underneath her turtle-shell afghan from her bubbe, and never resurface, but she knew if she sprinted across the lawn, she’d face-plant in the grass. Again. Abby 2.0 was a terrible idea. Timid turtles weren’t meant to be cheery chipmunks. They just weren’t.
“Six-Pack? From Abs? That’s funny.” The boy smiled. It lit up his face. “Should I call you Abby?”
“Uh, okay.” Brilliant. He probably thinks I’m a few IQ points shy of a coconut.
“I’m Conrad.”
Conrad. Conrad and Abby. Abby and Conrad. Heat exploded behind Abby’s cheeks. Surely he noticed her face was about to spontaneously combust. How did Cat manage this talking thing so easily? At school, she always seemed as comfortable talking to the boys as to the girls, even the boys she admitted to having crushes on.
“You go to Panther Pride Middle?” Conrad pointed down the street, even though the middle school was over a mile away.
Abby nodded.
Conrad tilted back on his heels. “What grade will you be going into?”
“Seventh,” Abby croaked past her desert-dry throat. She needed that root beer.
“I’m going into eighth.”
He’s older.
“Maybe you could show me around when school starts. I know I’m going to get lost. That school’s huge.”
Abby nodded again. For too long. She felt like a bobblehead doll in the back of a car going over a road with endless speed bumps. Then Abby stopped suddenly because she didn’t want Conrad to think she was agreeing that he would get lost, only that she would show him around. And that the school was huge.
Why is socializing so impossible for me?
Conrad leaned a hand on the trash can lid. “Maybe we could walk to school together.”
Abby’s eyes went as wide as if he’d suggested they get married.
“I mean, if you want to.” Conrad’s hand slipped off the trash can lid, and he stumbled. “Um, I…”
It made Abby feel better that Conrad stumbled, that she wasn’t the only clumsy one. “I’d… uh…” Abby couldn’t get any more words out. It was like the connection between her brain and her mouth broke. It felt like she’d been standing next to Conrad for hours, smelling his intoxicating cologne and being utterly, hopelessly silent. She couldn’t endure it another second and ran back into her house as though an alligator were chasing her.
“Um…,” he called after her, but Abby didn’t turn.
She leaped inside and shut the door behind her. Abby could almost hear Cat calling her a dork and telling her she should have answered Conrad instead of running away.
At least I didn’t trip this time That’s an improvement.
Abby peeked out the window next to the door. Conrad was walking back to Cat’s house… his house. She sank to the floor in the foyer and covered her face with her hands.
“You okay there, cowboy?” Mama Dee asked.
“What?” Abby hadn’t realized anyone was sitting there. She stood and brushed off her shorts. “Yeah. I’m fine. Perfect. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Sheesh. All right, then.” Mama Dee made a loud noise with her magazine and went back to reading. “You’re acting weird, that’s all.”
Abby flapped her arms like a chicken at her mom. “I’m. Not. Acting. Weird.”
“Who said you were?” Mom Rachel asked as she walked into the living room.
“Don’t ask,” Mama Dee warned her.
Abby threw her hands up in frustration, grabbed a root beer from the fridge, and brought it to her room, where she planned to hide out for the rest of her life.
“I should never have talked to him,” Abby told Fudge, who w
as asleep on his rock. “I’m never going to be able to talk to people easily like Cat does.” Abby changed into pajamas, got into bed, and pulled her afghan all the way up to her chin. “I should stop trying. I keep embarrassing myself.”
She replayed her interactions with Conrad over in her mind on an endless loop. Abby thought of the things she could have said, like I’d love to walk to school together. Then she remembered the dumb barely-words she’d actually said. And the times she was quiet as a stone when she should have talked.
Fudge was still on his rock. She was able to see him clearly in the full moon’s light streaming into her room through the partially open blinds.
“Turtles are supposed to be quiet,” she whispered to Fudge. “It’s when turtles try to be playful otters or barking seals that trouble starts. Why can’t the rest of the world appreciate turtles for exactly who they are?”
Abby kissed her fingertips and touched Fudge’s warm shell. “Good night. I appreciate you for exactly who you are.”
She was sure Fudge opened his mouth and smiled.
Friday the 13th—Unlucky, Lucky, and Unlucky
About a week and a half later, on the day Paul was coming home from camp, Abby had the Monopoly board set up with his favorite snacks nearby—Doritos and Twizzlers. She made limeade spritzers garnished with mint leaves from Mom’s kitchen garden box. Abby decided not to go with Mom Rachel to pick up Paul from camp so she’d have time to get everything ready for his homecoming.
When the car pulled into the driveway, Abby flung open the door and kept Miss Lucy back with her foot. Paul is home. Everything will be better.
Mom Rachel got out of the car first, went to the trunk, and hauled Paul’s huge duffel bag to the door.
“Where’s Paul?”
Mom Rachel turned back to the car. “He’s…” She rushed over, knocked on the car window, and opened the door. “He fell asleep,” she called. “I guess being a counselor-in-training wore him out.”
Abby bit her bottom lip as she watched her brother drag himself from the car, shoulders slumped. Paul usually bounded home from camp, excited to talk about all the things he did, even if he was worn out.
“Hey, Six-Pack,” Paul said with the energy of a soggy cornflake.
Abby, Tried and True Page 3