Leap Day

by Wendy Mass

  “Anne, wait up,” Rob calls out, but Anne keeps hurrying through the parking lot. She stops at the side of the Shark and waits for him to get there. Then she says, “We have to talk.”

  They get in the car and sit in silence, staring out the windshield. Rob is starting to panic. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

  “Did you see how they just took Sherri away?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “She’s about to have a baby!”

  “Anne, we’ve known that since last summer.”

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she says, an edge of hysteria in her voice. “Do what?” Rob’s heart starts beating faster. He swears he can feel it in his temple.

  “This,” she gestures around the car. “This, us, sex, the whole thing.” “Fine, done, no more sex. We only did it once anyway.”

  “It’s not just that,” she says. “I’m not ready for a serious relationship. I thought I was, but when I saw Sherri today, something just snapped. I’m sorry, Rob, I’m really sorry.”

  “We can slow down,” he says, reaching for her hand. “That’s not what I care about.”

  For a second her expression softens, and he feels a rise of hope. But then it passes and she slips her hand out of his grasp. “I’m sorry, Rob. You’re a great guy, really.” She reaches for the door handle.

  He feels like a deflated balloon as he watches her get out of the car, possibly for the last time ever. “If I’m so great, why are you doing this?”

  She leans in the window. “I hope we can be friends.”

  Rob watches her walk away. Her and her strawberry lip balm and her kindness and her laughter. He feels a pain in the center of his chest and presses against it. Now he knows why they call it heartache. His heart actually physically aches. The lunch bell rings, and he slowly opens the door into an empty parking lot.

  Megan leaves Josie and darts into the last stall of the bathroom. She taps her foot as she waits until some girl finishes washing her hands and leaves. Then she dives into her backpack and pulls out half of a salami sandwich and a Hostess cupcake wrapped in tin foil. She would have rather had one of Josie’s mom’s homemade muffins, but this will have to do. She wolfs the sandwich in six bites. Josie is so dedicated to being an actress, and Megan doesn’t want her to think she’s any less dedicated. Actresses are supposed to watch their weight. Everyone knows that. For about one second she debates saving the cupcake for later. Four bites later it’s gone. Mmm mmm. A little slice of heaven.

  1:25 P.M.– 2:15 P.M.

  Chapter 6A: Josie

  I watch as Ms. Connors tacks another quote onto the big bulletin board. Every Monday there’s a new one. Today’s is: “In life there are no make-up exams. Choose wisely.” I glance hard at Megan. Last week’s quote was “Don’t trust anyone over thirty.” That one was kind of a joke, though, because Ms. Connors turned thirty last week.

  Ms. Connors takes her seat and slowly scans around the circle, meeting everyone’s eyes. That’s her way of taking attendance. She says the eyes are the windows of the soul, and she can tell if we’re truly here or if we’re zoned out somewhere. At first it was weird having this teacher look at you so deeply, but now I don’t mind. Ms. Connors is so cool that you almost feel like she really cares about you. And since she kind of looks like Gwyneth Paltrow, I bet more than one boy has a crush on her. I always thought she’d make a much better match with Mr. Simon than that uptight Ms. Robinson. I mean, if he had to choose someone other than me.

  Ms. Connors passes around a pile of brochures and announces, “The guidance office asked all sixth period teachers to distribute this to our classes. They’ll be starting a series of voluntary discussion groups. Take a minute now to look this over, and if you’re interested in any of them, drop the form off at the guidance office before your next class.”

  The front of the brochure has a picture of a group of kids sitting around in a circle, like we are now. I don’t recognize any of them, though. They all have big 80s hair. In fact, they’re wearing sweaters, something we’d never wear down here. The brochure explains that the groups will be held once a week during regular class periods and are completely confidential. So I’d get out of class for this? I scan the list of groups, almost hoping I’ll find something. Family Issues, Drugs and Alcohol, Grief and Loss, Eating Disorders (again, I glance at Megan, who actually looks happy, not like she just threw up, which I take as a good sign, unless she’s happy with herself for throwing up, in which case it’s a bad sign), Abusive Situations, Depression, Relationships, Stress, Sexual Identity, Moving, Pregnancy, Divorce, Academic Problems, Peer Issues, Self-Esteem, Anger Management, and Attention Deficit Disorder. I can’t believe how many problems I could have right now!

  “Did everyone complete the homework assignment?” Ms. Connors asks.

  Most people nod, a few look down at their desks. That’s one thing about sitting in the circle; no one can hide.

  “Any volunteers?”

  As usual, my hand shoots up. Ms. Connors looks around the circle hoping someone else will volunteer. Greg Adler starts to raise his arm and then lets it sink back down. I think he feels a little self-conscious being the only Jewish person in the class. When we started the chapter on Judaism, Ms. Connors asked him to talk about his upcoming bar mitzvah. He had to explain that he had mono at thirteen, which is why he’s just having his bar mitzvah now. One kid asked, “Isn’t mono the kissing disease?” Greg’s face turned bright red and stayed that way for eleven minutes. I counted.

  “How about you, Sara?”

  Good luck with that one. Sara Beron has barely said anything in class for the last few months. She’s always been quiet, but lately even more so. Sara shifts in her seat and slightly shakes her head.

  My hand is still up.

  “Okay, Josie. What Yiddish expression did you find?”

  I hold my notebook close to my face to make sure I’m reading it correctly. “Mit dyna kiskas feldor zholen mestin. May they measure fields with your intestines.”

  The class laughs. Even Sara cracks a small smile. The quote was the first one I’d come across in my Internet search. I hadn’t really thought about how gross it was until just now. It’s also not very nice.

  Just then a loud ringing comes through the loudspeaker, and we all jump a little in our seats. It’s the fire alarm.

  “Okay, everyone,” Ms. Connors says, standing up. “Leave your stuff here. Let’s go, and quietly.”

  I love fire drills. They’re an unexpected bonus. Like finding a crumpled dollar bill in your jeans pocket or one last McDonald’s french fry in the bottom of the bag. We file into the hallway and join the rest of the throng. We’re supposed to be totally silent, and the bell is just so darn loud that it’s not hard to comply. Each class is supposed to stick together, but once we’re outside everyone gravitates toward their friends. Megan goes off to find Zoey and I wander around in search of Katy. I can’t help it if I keep my eyes open for Grant too. He must have gone home sick or something; I just don’t see him anywhere. Megan and Zoey have found each other and laid claim to one of the benches in the shade. God help Zoey if she came home with even a slight tinge of pink on her skin. When I approach they immediately jerk their heads apart.

  “Oh, it’s you,” Zoey says.

  “Nice greeting,” I reply, positioning myself between them. “We were plotting an ice cream run and didn’t want anyone to hear,” Zoey explains in a loud whisper.

  “We can’t leave school during a fire drill!”

  “We won’t have to,” Megan says. “We could get it from the freezer in the cafeteria since everyone is outside right now. It’s not like I even want to eat it, I just want to see if we can do it.”

  “But the fire drill’s almost over,” I point out. “We’ll get caught.” “I don’t think so,” Zoey says. “Listen.”

  In the background we can hear the fire engines approaching from a few blocks away. That means the fire department was called to check everything out and
it isn’t a scheduled drill. Someone must have pulled the alarm. Unless there’s a real fire, but somehow I doubt that. It could be a while and it is really hot out here and I really could use an ice cream sandwich. “Let’s do it.”

  We stand up and I do a quick scan for Katy. I find her standing near Ms. Connors and some of the kids from my class. She must be looking for me. I tell the others to wait and go pull Katy away. She glances back at Ms. Connors.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “She won’t notice I’m not with the class.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you think your teacher cares where you are?”

  “Good point. Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We join Zoey and Megan and casually make our way to the edge of the crowd. A few seconds later we’ve made it around the corner of the building and into the empty courtyard where we’d finished lunch less than an hour ago.

  “Shouldn’t someone stand guard?” Megan asks.

  Zoey shakes her head. “It’s not like we’d hear you from here if you yelled anyway.”

  Megan looks relieved. I don’t think she wanted to wait on her own. I know I wouldn’t.

  We push through the doors and run across the cafeteria. The tables still have scraps of food on them. It’s very weird being in here, just the four of us. Almost like I’m in the middle of a dream where everyone has suddenly disappeared except for my friends and me. We reach the freezer with the ice cream and stop in front of it.

  “We’re stealing ice cream?” Katy asks. “That’s what you brought me here for?”

  “Is theft one of the seven deadly sins?” I ask.

  At the same time they all say, “Huh?”

  “No, but gluttony is,” a female voice replies from behind the counter. My heart jumps into my throat. One of the staff must not have left the building. We whirl around and come face to face with Amelia from my English class and super-shy Sara from world religions. Together they must have ten ice cream sandwiches between them. No one says anything as we stare across at each other. Amelia has this mischievous expression on her face. She’s so good at it she must have practiced it in front of a mirror. Sara looks like a deer frozen in headlights.

  Megan reaches for the freezer door and pulls on it. It’s locked. “Say not a word,” Amelia warns us in a low voice. My friends and I back slowly away from the freezer. I’m too surprised to say anything even if I wanted to. Now I really feel like I’m in some sort of bizarre dream. The two of them stuff the sandwiches in the plastic bag Sara is holding and start heading back through the table area.

  “Hey, Sara!” Megan calls out. Sara stops in her tracks and Amelia glares at both of them. Sara, not surprisingly, doesn’t answer.

  In a sweet voice Megan asks, “Can I have an ice cream?”

  Sara haltingly reaches into her bag but Amelia grabs her by the t-shirt and pulls her away.

  For a second the four of us don’t move. Then Megan calls after them, “May they measure fields with your intestines!” We turn toward each other and burst out laughing. I laugh so hard that I actually have to hold the sides of my stomach. Zoey leans against the freezer and wipes tears away from her eyes.

  Just then the fire alarm bell gives off a short ring, signaling that everyone can go back inside. We head toward the door that leads into the hall, planning to blend in with the rest of the crowd. I ask if anyone else thought Amelia sounded possessed.

  “Maybe Amelia is possessed by the ice cream demon,” Katy suggests, still breathing hard from the laughing.

  “And how did she rope poor Sara into helping her?” I ask. “What’s wrong with that girl?” Katy asks. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

  “Ah, that’s the big mystery,” Megan says. We part ways at the water fountain and Megan and I hurry to catch up with our class. That kid Mike who I was waiting in the front hall with this morning is walking toward us. He winks at me as he gets closer. I wonder if he was the one who pulled the fire alarm. As we pass each other I turn my head and look at him. He turns, too, and shakes his head with a smile. I guess he knew what I was thinking. There’s more to that kid than meets the eye.

  When we get back to our class, Sara is already in her seat. The bag of contraband is nowhere in sight. We have only five minutes left to the period and then it’s time for the auditions. I can’t decide if I wish time would hurry up or slow down. Speed up so I can be on that stage. But slow down so I don’t have to worry about blowing it. The minutes tick on. Once everyone has settled in, Megan raises her hand. I hope she’s not going to ask to go to the bathroom again.

  “Yes, Megan?”

  Megan looks directly at Sara and asks, “Ms. Connors, do some religions believe people can be possessed by demons?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason. Just wondering. Like if someone does something that you wouldn’t think they would do.”

  “Well,” Ms. Connors says wearily. “Demonology is a bit out of the realm of the class curriculum. Suffice it to say, it’s not a big part of modern religion.”

  “But on Buffy the Vampire Slayer —” Megan begins.

  Ms. Connors holds up her hand to stop her. “Do you have a Yiddish saying for us today, Megan?”

  Megan reluctantly opens her notebook. “My grandfather said he remembered an old man on his street in Brooklyn saying this to the neighborhood butcher, who ripped him off: ‘May you fall from the top of the Chrysler Building and may people lean out their windows and hit you on the head with a baseball bat as you go by.’”

  The class laughs. A colorful bunch, those Yiddish folks.

  The bell rings and Megan and I are the first to run out of the room. We take off in different directions since we both have to run to our lockers before tryouts. I flip open my locker and pull the plastic brush off the shelf. Squinting in the small mirror on the inside of the door, I run the brush through my hair with one hand and put on lipstick with the other. A minute later I’m hurrying down the hall to the auditorium where the tryouts are going to be held. I’m about ten feet away when someone bumps into my left shoulder. I spin around. It’s Grant Brawner. I’m so surprised that my mouth doesn’t seem to want to work properly. I guess he didn’t go home sick after all.

  “Oh, sorry, Josie,” he says, picking up the books that he dropped. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  I try to form the words, “That’s okay,” but what comes out is more like a squeak.

  “Well, see ya,” he says and walks away.

  Many thoughts crowd my head as I struggle to focus on walking the rest of the way. Here they are, in order:

  1. How stupid am I that I couldn’t say anything?

  2. HE CALLED ME BY NAME! He usually just says hi, if he says anything at all.

  3. Maybe he’ll ask me to the prom!

  4. How stupid am I to think he’d ever ask me to the prom?

  5. If I get the role of Juliet, he’ll have to ask me for my picture again for the playbill!

  6. If I don’t get the role of Juliet, he’ll ask SOME OTHER GIRL for her picture, fall in love with her, and take HER to the prom.

  7. He sort of smelled like he needed a shower.

  1:25 P.M. – 2:15 P.M.

  Chapter 6B: Everyone

  Ms. Connors has only a few minutes before her sophomore world religions class files in. She sorts through her pile of quotations for the right one to post today. Will these words of wisdom inspire her students to be better people? Will the quotes make them look at the world around them a bit differently? Sometimes she lies awake at night, alone in her double bed, afraid she’ll never be able to teach them the things they’ll truly need to know about life. Can she teach them how to repair a broken heart? Or explain that it never really gets repaired, just scarred over? How will she teach them to watch people they love die from old age or worse? How to pick the right job, the right mate? How can she convince them that every day there are little gifts to find in surprising places,
that they just have to keep their eyes open? She loves teaching world religions, because she gets to pick the best lessons each tradition has to offer. As an agnostic, Ms. Connors doesn’t know if there is one god, a trinity of gods, a thousand gods, or none at all. She knows only that it is her job to spark the spirit within each and every student. It frustrates her to no end that she can never tell if it’s working.

  Sara Beron likes being the first one in a room. Even though Ms. Connors is there, she is busy at her desk, so Sara doesn’t have to worry about anyone trying to strike up a conversation. Everyone thinks it’s this big mystery that she doesn’t talk very much. She’s heard the theories. She was attacked in a dark alley, aliens abducted her and swore her to silence, she witnessed a murder, she wants attention. The school psychologist literally got down on her knees and begged for her to talk. Sara felt a little guilty about that, because the woman tore her panty hose and didn’t get any information out of her. It’s not like she’s mute or anything cliché like that. She ordered a pizza over the phone last night with no problem. She couldn’t do that if she were mute.

  At this point, the only person she’ll willingly talk to is her cousin Amelia, even though Amelia isn’t exactly her favorite person in the world. She’s afraid if she talks to anyone for too long she’ll blurt out what she saw. What she saw was this: her mother kissing the bagboy at Publix Supermarket. It was Christmas break and Sara and Amelia had stopped in there to get some ice cream because the Baskin Robbins was temporarily closed for remodeling. Amelia’s parents are really religious and don’t allow her to have things like ice cream. They say that eating for pleasure goes against something in the Bible. That doesn’t stop Amelia, though. Once inside the market they had decided to split up and each find the grossest thing in the store, then dare the other person to eat it. Sara was about to pick up the freezer-wrapped cow’s brains when she spied her mother’s familiar blond ponytail at the end of the frozen dinners. She was about to call out her name when she saw this man — boy, really — swing her mom around. Her mother giggled and pulled him to her. He leaned her up against the frozen doors and they kissed, really passionately. Like in the movies. Sara tried to tear her eyes away but she couldn’t. The shock felt like an ice pick stabbing her brain. If this had really been a movie, her father would come running in to separate them. But he didn’t. A spill in aisle four finally broke the spell, and Sara ran to find her cousin.