“Oh. Well, no,” I replied, hoping that Bruce and I would someday have a conversation that didn’t involve me excluding him from things. After his first-day blunder of sitting with us, he’d since found different people to eat lunch with. I saw him in class, but we never really got to talk that much. “It’s more like a way to spread the word about the Club to other towns.”
“That’s really cool. Do you need any help?” he offered.
We did need a lot of help. “You know, that would be great. Ryan’s going to be there, so I’m sure he’d love to have some company that isn’t a parent or a girl hopped up on anti-male sentiment.”
“Well, on second thought …” He started to back away before breaking into laughter. “Only joking. Sounds great.”
Bruce’s eyes lit up at the sight of something behind me. I was about to subtly brush my chin against my shoulder to see what had gotten his attention, but then I heard that familiar voice.
“Ready to go, Pen?” Tracy had her car keys in her hand.
“Yeah, just talking to Bruce here about the Valentine’s Day party.”
Bruce smiled warmly at Tracy. “How was your day, Tracy?”
“Standard: morning, afternoon, pretty sure evening will happen or we’re all doomed.” She took out her phone and began texting.
“You know,” I said, “Tracy’s in charge of the decorations. And you’re tall, so …” I turned toward Tracy, who looked up from her phone. “Tracy, I’m going to put you in charge of Bruce.”
“Huh?” She was beyond clueless.
“He’s offered to help with the party, and I figured you’d need a tall guy for decorations.”
“Okay.” She nodded at him. “Fine. What to the evs.”
“Awesome!” He hesitated slightly. “Do you think I could get your number, then?”
“Sure.” Tracy exchanged numbers with Bruce.
I couldn’t help being amused by the two of them, one completely smitten while the other was absolutely oblivious.
Then I heard that annoying, nasally voice I had hoped never to hear again. “Bruce, don’t let these things brainwash you.”
Missy Winston. Freshman. Ryan’s Homecoming Date. And Public Enemy Number One of the Club. Well, maybe that honor went to Todd. It was hard to tell some days.
“G’day, Missy!” Bruce greeted. “You going to the Valentine’s Day party?”
Missy’s nose twitched as if she smelled something horrific (my guess was the perfume she bathed in). Then she placed her meticulously manicured hand on her hip. “No, and you really shouldn’t hang out with these people, either. You don’t want your reputation ruined.”
Tracy glared at her. “Yes, because hanging with a self-absorbed freshmonster is much better.”
“What to the evs,” Missy replied.
“Oh, you did not just say that to me!” Tracy stepped closer to Missy, who flinched. I knew Tracy wouldn’t hit her — but I’d never known anybody with the nerve to try to steal one of Tracy’s sayings and use it against her.
Missy recovered quickly from her moment of cowering. Flipping her overly highlighted and newly chemically straightened hair, she said, “Bruce, you should really spend your evenings with people who know how to have a good time. Not a bunch of pathetic people who can’t get a date.”
Tracy took another step forward. “Remind me again, how did your stalking of Ryan turn out? Oh, yeah, right, he’s with Pen. Because she’s awesome and doesn’t stink of desperation and cheap perfume.”
Missy began walking away as quickly as her five-inch platform boots would allow. Then she called, “Are you coming, Bruce?”
“He’s coming with me,” Tracy replied, clearly to Bruce’s delight. He didn’t give Missy a second glance as he obediently followed Tracy. She didn’t say where they were going, but he most likely would’ve followed her anywhere.
Missy watched them leave before turning her attention to me. She studied me suspiciously, probably wondering why Ryan would want someone like me when he could’ve had her.
“Well,” I addressed Missy as I started to walk away from her, “pleasure to see you as always, Missy.” I figured with people like Missy, it was best to kill them with kindness. Mostly because I hoped that it would legitimately kill them.
She continued to glare at me in disgust. “Yeah, you, too. Have fun being pathetic with your pathetic friends. I’ll be spending Valentine’s Day with my date, Todd.”
I stopped in my tracks. “You’re dating Todd now?” It didn’t really faze me that Todd had moved on so quickly from Nicole. He never let anything like people’s emotions get in the way of his actions.
“Yes.” She smirked, clearly pleased with herself for dating an upperclassman.
“Well, good luck with that,” I said before leaving her behind to find Tracy and Bruce.
She was definitely going to need it.
THE BLOOMS HAD A FEW BIRTHDAY traditions I’d gotten used to in my now seventeen years on the planet. So I shouldn’t have been so startled when I was woken up by my parents pulling away the curtains in my bedroom so I could be greeted by a burst of daylight and the blasting of “Good Day Sunshine.”
“Wake up, birthday girl!” Mom sang in tune to the harmony.
Dad twirled her around as they began dancing in my bedroom.
Happy birthday to me.
I reluctantly kicked the covers off my feet and got out of bed. They enveloped me in a hug and tried to get me to dance with them, but since I was not fully awake, I escaped to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.
It was going to be a long morning.
By the time I got downstairs, my parents were dancing around to the Meet the Beatles! album.
“Today’s the day!” Mom shook her hips while flipping pancakes on the griddle.
I gave her a sheepish smile as I sat down at my usual place at the kitchen table, which had the special plate that was only used on birthdays: a photo of the Beatles eating cake with the caption HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!
I took a sip of orange juice and began opening cards. There were the standard greetings from aunts and uncles — as well as a red card with a return address that stopped my heart cold.
Nate.
I couldn’t believe he thought that I’d still want to exchange birthday cards like we had since we were little. I pulled the card out and was upset to see the front had an illustration of the Beatles dressed up in their Sgt. Pepper’s costumes surrounding a girl with a cake. The card read, You Say It’s Your Birthday?
How dare he drag the Beatles into this.
I didn’t want to open it, to read what he had to say for himself. But Mom was studying me as she stacked pancakes on a plate, and I couldn’t let her know what was going on. So I opened the card and prepared myself for the worst.
Hey Penny!
Happy birthday! Do you like the card? I thought of you when I saw it. Anyways, I hope you have a great day. I’m excited to see you at Lucy’s wedding. Surely you’ll have forgiven me by then.
Love, Nate
Forgive him? Fat chance.
I quickly placed the card back into the envelope as Dad sat down next to me. “So, kiddo, how about we open your presents after breakfast?”
“Sounds good,” I replied.
Dad picked up my cards and started looking at the return addresses. “Oh, hey, how’s Nate?”
I replied by shoving a large piece of pancake in my mouth.
Mom poured herself more coffee. “Now, Penny Lane, just because you have a boyfriend, it doesn’t mean you should ignore your friends.”
Did she realize who she was talking to?
“I know, Mom.” My voice was laced with annoyance. “Have you heard of a little thing called The Lonely Hearts Club?”
She gave me a look that made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to be snippy with her, even on my birthday. “But you hardly talk to Nate anymore. You two were so close.”
“Yeah, well …” I weighed my options. “He wasn’t that
great of a friend to me last summer. He’s actually a big jerk, but I don’t want to discuss it any further.”
“But, Penny Lane —” Mom began, but Dad mercifully held his hand up to stop her.
He passed me the syrup. “So where are you and Ryan going to lunch today?”
“I don’t know.” He wanted to surprise me, which only put more pressure on me to figure out what to do next weekend for Valentine’s Day.
“Is he coming for today’s special ceremony?” Mom asked.
God, no.
“Uh, he has something this morning,” I lied. “So he isn’t coming until twelve thirty.”
“That’s too bad; he’ll miss it by only a few minutes.” She looked genuinely upset.
“Yeah, too bad.”
The time Ryan was picking me up wasn’t a coincidence. There was only so much humiliation one person could take in front of others. The Club was going to have to witness the birthday dance this evening, so Ryan could be left in the dark when it came to the “ceremony.”
I figured I could give myself this one little present on my birthday.
My parents and I stared at the clock in the living room. The mood was serene and reflective (for them — I was antsy, wanting to get it over with).
To my horror, the doorbell rang shortly after twelve fifteen.
Mom jumped up. “Oh, Ryan’s here in time! Fabulous!”
Yeah, fabulous.
I went after her. “Maybe he and I should go …”
She opened the door and took Ryan by the arm before he even had a chance to say hello. “You’re here right under the wire! Quickly!” She ushered him into the living room.
I reluctantly followed, thinking, Why can’t I have a boyfriend who’s always late?
Mom glanced at the clock. “Everybody sit! We’re only a couple minutes away.”
Ryan sat down next to me with a questioning look.
“Just go with it,” I said, aware that my cheeks were on fire from embarrassment. And the ceremony hadn’t even begun yet.
Ryan looked amused. “This must be good if you’re so horrified.”
He had no idea.
Mom held up her hand at precisely 12:19. “I’m so glad you could be with us, Ryan, to celebrate today. This date means so much to so many. It was the start of something great. Something that changed me and Dave, this family, and the world. We are better off because of what happened this day.” She began to get choked up.
Ryan smiled sweetly at my mom.
Yes, this would really be sweet if they were talking about my birthday.
She waited for the clock to hit 12:20. Both Mom and Dad were leaning forward as the second hand made its final revolution.
They began counting down, and Ryan followed their lead, caught up in the excitement. I began sinking farther into the seat cushions.
“Five, Four, Three, Two, One — Happy US Beatles-versary!” My parents chanted, right as Ryan mistakenly wished me a happy birthday.
Mom and Dad hugged, then cued up the Beatles’ first number-one single in the US, “I Want to Hold Your Hand.”
“Oh, I thought …” Ryan scratched his head, confused about what he was witnessing.
I began to explain. “The Beatles arrived in the US on this date, at this exact time, back in 1964. My parents do this every year.” I glanced up at Mom and Dad, who were lost in their yearly celebration dance. “Let’s go. Maybe they won’t even notice.”
He conspiratorially nodded as we quietly headed for the front door.
“Penny Lane!” Dad pulled me by the hand to dance with me. To my horror, Mom approached Ryan and started dancing with him.
Why oh why couldn’t I have been born on February 6 or 8? Or to a sane family?
“Dad,” I pleaded to the more rational of my two parents. “Please …”
He chuckled. “Goo goo g’joob!”
Or maybe not.
I pulled away but danced over to Ryan and saved him from Mom’s grasp. “If you tell anybody about this …” I warned him.
He was laughing. “Oh, come on, this is pretty fun! They may be celebrating the Beatles, but I’m celebrating you.”
“The best way to get out of this is to play along,” I said.
We continued to dance but slowly made our way over to the door as “I Saw Her Standing There” began playing. I waited for the right instant to sing out, “And we are go-ing to lunch.” I opened the door, and screamed to Ryan, “NOW!”
Ryan and I bolted out the door to his car. “Hurry!” I gestured at him to start the car, but he was too busy laughing. I kept looking back toward the house. “They might be coming, Ryan! Let’s go!”
He was gasping for air. “You’re too much. That was hysterical.” He took a deep breath and finally got the key in the ignition. “Aw, man, if this is how your birthday is starting out …”
Yes, I was aware it was a dubious start. But having the afternoon alone with Ryan gave me hope that things were looking up.
“No, Ryan, we can’t,” I protested.
He kept guiding me into the restaurant. “Don’t be silly, Penny. It’s your birthday.”
While, yes, it was my birthday, he didn’t have to take me to the nicest Italian restaurant in town. The only time my parents had ever taken us to Sorrento’s was when Lucy graduated high school. I immediately began doing math in my head of how much money I’d saved between babysitting and working in Dad’s dental office. There was no way I was going to top this next weekend for our belated Valentine’s Day lunch … or dinner … or whatever I was going to come up with.
I never thought I would regret having a boyfriend who was so generous, but it really did make it hard to compete with him.
Silly, thoughtful boyfriend.
“I should be wearing a skirt or something,” I said as I placed the white linen napkin over my dark jeans.
“It’s lunch. You’re fine. In fact, you’re gorgeous.” He gently rubbed my back.
“Thanks,” I said. What I wanted to do was say something self-deprecating or joking. But I was determined to be the perfect girlfriend this afternoon — one who didn’t look around like somebody in the Mafia afraid of getting whacked.
“So will your mom be re-creating that little ritual for the Club this evening?” he asked, still amused by my parents. It was easy for him to laugh about it; he didn’t have to live with them.
“Thankfully, no. But there are other traditions they do today. Right now they’re watching the press conference from after the Beatles landed, and then they’ll watch the original performance on The Ed Sullivan Show, even though that was two days later.” I stopped myself, realizing that I was sounding more and more like them. “Anyways, tonight when I have my cake, they’ll be singing along to ‘Birthday’ … with choreography.”
“Please tell me someone will be taping this.”
“Not if that person values her life.” I should’ve stopped there, but he was enjoying the embarrassment of growing up Bloom so much, I decided to throw him an extra bone. “And, well, I actually kinda like it and dance along with them.”
His eyes lit up. “Can I please, please renounce my fellow man for five minutes so I can witness this?”
I picked up the menu, hoping the prices would make me less hungry. Plus, it was easier for me to ignore him that way.
“Penny.” He jostled my chair. “Fine, but what can a guy do to get a private performance?”
“Have a birthday,” I shot back at him.
“But my birthday isn’t until November!”
“Oh, well.” I shrugged. “Nothing I can do about that.”
A crooked smile began to settle on his face. “Or you could make up for the fact that we weren’t even speaking on my last birthday. Call it restitution.”
I looked at him, about to zing him in some way. But the hopeful look he had in his eyes, the fact that the scales were already tipped so far in his favor as the better half, made me relent.
“Maybe.” I offered him some
hope. But before he got too excited, I let him know my conditions. “But that means I’m having an appetizer. And dessert.”
He laughed to himself. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Bloom.”
Sadly, it was probably in his best interest to expect much less.
DIANE WAS THE FIRST TO ARRIVE for the party. She was helping my parents with some sort of “surprise.” I had no idea what it was, but I wasn’t allowed to go into the basement or look in the refrigerator.
I didn’t know what the point was for all the secrecy since I knew everything was going to be Beatles themed. When I was little and going through my Disney princess phase, I once begged and pleaded for an Ariel cake. My parents reacted like I’d asked to be adopted by another family. It really wasn’t fair. Rita and Lucy were allowed to have regular birthdays because they didn’t share their birthday with the Fab Four.
Diane opened the refrigerator and gasped. “Have you seen your cake?”
I gave her a look that made it clear that I hadn’t.
“It’s something else.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“How was your lunch with Ryan?”
“Good.” I never felt fully comfortable talking about Ryan to Diane, even though the feeling wasn’t mutual.
“That’s good. You don’t have to feel awkward about it.” She coiled a long strand of blond hair around her finger. “You know he’s going to tell me anyways, and for your information, he had a wonderful time.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” I said. “I think things are really good. Sometimes I struggle balancing everything, but I’m trying to make it all work.”
“It’s clear that you’re trying. Even Ryan’s aware of that,” she told me, and it stung that they’d apparently discussed this as well. “Don’t overthink things. Simply be with him — that’s all he wants. It’s that easy.”
Our moment was interrupted when Tracy walked into the kitchen, holding up her phone.
“First, happy birthday.” She gave me a quick hug. “Second, even though it’s your birthday, it doesn’t mean I can’t be annoyed at you for sticking me with Bruce. He keeps texting me. How boring is life in Australia if he’s this excited about putting up decorations?”
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