13 and Counting

by Lisa Greenwald

  Gemma bursts out laughing, spitting cucumber all over the table. “OMG, that is kind of a lame nickname, Ar,” she says, still laughing.

  I glare at her. “First of all, stop. Second of all, I’m worrying and obsessing because we don’t have any answers. Do you get that?” I look at my dad and then my mom and they just stare at me openmouthed. “Why aren’t you demanding more answers?”

  In a warning kind of way, my mom says, “Ari, please.”

  “You could be doing more.” I look down at my plate and scarf a few bites of mashed potatoes. “You can’t just let her rot away in the hospital!”

  “Ari!” my mom yells this time. “Get ahold of yourself.”

  I shake my head. “I’m full. May I please be excused?”

  They nod reluctantly and I push in my chair and carry my plate to the sink. When I get upstairs to my room, I pace around, trying to think of something else to keep my mind occupied.

  I start searching online for anything I can find on strokes. Having information calms me. It’s when I don’t know what’s going on or how things will turn out that I end up feeling anxious and uneasy.

  To stay Chill Girl Ari, I need to also stay Informed Ari.

  I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize this.

  So I keep reading online about strokes and recovery times and different therapies and strategies and then something entirely different comes up: a 5K for stroke awareness. And it’s in a town only twenty minutes from us!

  My heart speeds up as I read over all the information. I don’t even know how long a 5K really is so I have to search for that, too, and find out. Okay, it’s only a little over three miles. We could totally do this. But it’s not like it’ll be super easy. We’ll need to train, at least a little bit.

  We can totally do this!

  Kaylan and me!

  Another organic thing for the list. I add it to my rough draft.

  New Ari & Kaylan Friendship List

  Learn to ride a unicycle

  Start a movement

  Figure out how we feel about God

  Spend more time with Bubbie and Zeyda

  Perfect the art of persuasion, especially with Kaylan’s mom

  Train for and run a race

  I hit the “favorites” button on my phone, where I have only one number listed: Kaylan.

  It’s true that I have more favorites now: Alice, Golfy, Hana, Zoe—okay, all Camp Silver people.

  But I haven’t added them as favorites in my phone.

  “Hey, how’s Bub?” Kaylan asks right away, not even saying hello.

  That’s how you know you have a true, one-of-a-kind best friend. They cut right to the important stuff, what they know is on your mind. They don’t even waste time with hello.

  “Eh, I don’t know. It’s like we’re not even given answers.”

  “I don’t get it. Why?” She coughs. “Like they don’t have the information or your parents are keeping it from you, or what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I don’t even realize it until Kaylan says, “Soooo what else is going on?” which basically means she’s asking me why I called, like if there was any specific reason.

  “Oh, right.” I laugh for a second. “I called because . . . drumroll, please, another list item.”

  “OMG, Ari,” Kaylan says. “You are on fire. What is it?”

  “We’re going to run a race! It’s a stroke awareness race. They think Bub had a stroke, by the way. So yeah, it’s a meaningful cause. And a 5K is really only a little over three miles, so totally doable. But I think we’d still have to train.” I pause. “What do you think?”

  “Um. Wow. You just talked really, really fast, by the way,” Kaylan starts.

  “Sorry,” I reply, not actually feeling sorry.

  “When is it?” she asks. “I don’t want to run outside when it’s freezing, or ever, really . . . but if it’s for a good cause, maybe?”

  “Hold.” I put down the phone and go back to the website. “June.”

  My mouth drops when I look at the date and then up at the school calendar tacked on my bulletin board above my desk. “OMG. Actually, you’re never going to believe this. It’s on the last day of school. Hello! The day we need to finish the list. This could be the final thing. This is a sign! I just sent you the link.”

  “This is an absolutely crazy sign,” Kaylan replies. “Like it’s all coming together, the reason we are doing a winter list, the deadline, the items, all of it.” She pauses. “It makes so much sense.”

  “Yay!” It feels so good when Kaylan and I agree, like all is right in the world.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Kaylan says, all tentative. “And don’t be mad, okay?”

  “I hate when people do that,” I tell her. “It’s like setting someone up to be mad.”

  “Okay, but still.”

  My happy, successful feeling disappears. “Whatever.” I sigh. “Fine. What is it?”

  “Can you just be honest about how you feel about our friends? Like, if you don’t like them, it’s okay. But I want to know.”

  “Kay,” I groan. “Haven’t we discussed this a bunch already?”

  She laughs. “I don’t know. Have we?”

  “I think so. It seems familiar.” I sigh. “Anyway, it’s all good. I like them. I just don’t need to be twenty-four/seven BFFs with them. They’re good in-school friends, and that’s still a big thing. Ya know?”

  “Got it.” She laughs again. I’m not sure why, though. None of this is that funny.

  “All right, I gotta go, Kay.” I clear my throat. “But I’m feeling good about the race and the list and stuff. Are you?”

  “Yuppers, yuppers,” she says. “Let’s do our sleepover Friday to discuss and see how many things we have. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I say. “Nighty-night.”

  “Nighty-night.”

  I sit there for a moment and my enthusiasm about the race starts to fade a little. It’s like it only helps for a second because when I think about the reason we’re doing it, my insides turn gray.

  I start to feel trapped inside my room, inside my house, trapped with worry and frustration. I run downstairs and grab my coat and go out to the front porch. I sit back on the Adirondack chair with my hood up, and breathe in and breathe out, breathe in and breathe out.

  I focus on the crispness of the air and pray that things will be back to normal sometime soon.

  A few minutes later, I’m in that state where I’m kind of asleep but also having real thoughts, not dreaming, and then I hear someone say “Hey” in a soft half-serious, half-jokey kind of tone.

  I open my eyes and look over at the person in the rocking chair next to me.

  Jason.

  “Oh, um, hey.” I laugh, totally caught off guard. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  He considers it for a moment. “I dunno. Not long.”

  I look at him sideways. “Oh-kay.”

  “So what’s up? Heard you guys are doing a new list . . .” He raises his eyebrows. “Well, more like I overheard Kaylan talking to Cami about it.”

  “Yeah, we are.” I look down at my boots, curling my toes inside them. Maybe it’s too cold to be out here.

  “Hello! Earth to Nodberg!” Jason laughs. “You sound like you’re on another planet.”

  I sigh. “No, just a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, genuinely sounding concerned and wanting to know what’s going on. “Like what?”

  I start talking. “Well, my bubbie fell, and she’s in the hospital, and I’m all twisted up now. Like I can’t really focus on anything else.”

  “Oh.” He nods. “Yeah. That sucks.”

  I wonder why I just told him all of that, but I also wonder why his response feels oddly comforting. He didn’t even say anything. But he acknowledged the suckiness level of this kind of thing, and that sort of feels like a lot.

  “It does suck,” I say. �
��They just moved here, and we had all these plans, and all I want is for her to get better so we can move forward and also go back to normal.”

  “I get that,” he says. He moves over the tiniest bit, and for a second our elbows are sharing the arm of my rocking chair.

  It’s the weirdest thing ever, but when he moves his elbow away, I’m sort of disappointed.

  We sit there talking for a few more minutes until Jason declares, “Okay, it’s freezing out here. I’m going home.”

  I look over at him and realize all he’s wearing is a fleece jacket.

  “Yeah, you need to bundle up more, Klee.” I laugh, not even sure where that just came from. I’ve never called him Klee before. I barely call him Jason.

  “Yeah, noted.” He gets up from the rocking chair and starts to walk down the steps, toward our front path and across the street. “Nodberg, if you ever want to, uh, talk, you know I’m here. Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  I watch him walk away, back into his house. I see him through the long window next to his front door, hanging his fleece up on the coat tree. And then I catch a glimpse of him, running up the stairs.

  I stay on the porch for a few more minutes, staring at his house, sort of hoping he’ll come back outside again, or that he’ll wave from his window.

  He was just here, and he’s just Jason, and I know I’ll see him tomorrow, but there’s a little part of me that misses him.

  7

  KAYLAN

  A FEW DAYS LATER, MY mom and I are in the den together, cozy on the couch, relaxing after dinner. She hasn’t said anything about the Cami trip yet, and neither have I. It’s been this crazy-intense waiting game, making me realize how super, mega important the art of persuasion thing really is. It probably should have been on our first list.

  Cami tells me every day that the moms have been playing phone tag, but we have no idea when they’ll finally connect.

  “I talked to Cami’s mom earlier today,” she says.

  “Oh!” I sit up straight, wondering if she just read my mind or if moms have the ability to do that. I really hope they don’t. “And?”

  “It’s certainly a lovely invitation.” She looks at me, and I wait for her to continue. “And I think it’s a great thing. You haven’t been away from home for that long before.”

  “I know,” I reply, wondering why she’s dragging this out so much, and when she’ll finally get to her answer.

  I can’t take it anymore. “So? Can I go? I was going to bring this up sooner, but then I figured it’d be best if you talked to Cami’s mom first.”

  She hesitates. “We’ll miss you. But I think you can go. Drink a fruity umbrella drink for me.”

  I laugh. “For real? You mean it?”

  “Yes!” She pulls me into a sideways hug.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  I stay in the hug for a moment, not saying anything. I guess I didn’t really need to work on my art of persuasion there. I got off easy on that one—the other things will be more difficult, I think.

  My mom slow-dips her tea bag into hot water. She never seems happy drinking tea, at least not the way she is when she’s drinking coffee.

  “Um, Mom,” I say, mustering up feelings of courage and kind yet forceful persuasion vibes. “Um, so, there’s something I didn’t tell you.”

  “Kaylan,” she warns, her voice rising at the end.

  “Mom, remember a long time ago, when you talked to Ryan and me and you promised to be open to whatever we had to say and not get mad because you really wanted us to be honest with you?”

  She side-eyes me. “Go on.”

  “So I kind of did this thing, and I didn’t tell you. . . .” I wait for her to interrupt me, but she doesn’t. She just sits there. “Um, well. I read about this comedy camp last summer when Ari came home from camp and was obsessed with it and I was so jealous, and I kinda mentioned it to Dad on our trip and he said something like follow your dreams or whatever, not paying attention that much. But anyway, I signed up for their emails and when the notice went out to apply, I applied.” I pause, realizing I’ve been rambling on and on for a long time. My mom is still sitting there, quiet and frozen. “I didn’t think I’d get in, really. I had to submit a short video. Anyway, I really want to do it. I got in, by the way.” I burst out laughing from how insane this is, but my mom just stares at me. “So, yeah. That’s it.”

  “I see.” My mom slow-nods, taking it all in. She’s silent then, for what seems like forever. Finally she says, “Well, congratulations on getting in, but I just don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me about it, or tell me you were applying or anything. You talked to Dad, but not me?” Her voice catches at the end.

  I move closer to her on the couch and rest my head on her shoulder. “Well, I didn’t really talk to Dad. I just happened to mention it to him because he was there when I first read about it online.” I play with my mom’s hair, trying to butter her up a little, but also trying to be close to her. She feels really far away. “Also, I didn’t even know if I’d get in! I didn’t want to make it a big deal. And I’ve never gone away for summer before . . . I was afraid you’d say no.” I pick my head up and look at her, finally. “It was a lot of things.”

  My mom says, “Got it,” in her soft, trying-to-figure-things-out tone. “Well, now that you did get in, you’re going to have to discuss this with your father again, you know.” She sniffles. “I’m proud of you, Kaylan. And also disappointed that you handled it this way. Lots of mixed emotions right now.”

  I perk up. “So that means I can go?”

  “We don’t know what this costs, the dates, the transportation, anything at all.” My mom raises her eyebrows. “We’ll try to find a way to make it work, but I can’t say for sure.” She gets up from the couch.

  I follow her out of the den, already drafting an email to my dad in my head.

  Let’s just hope he remembers that follow your dreams conversation, and that he’s going to help pay for me to do it.

  8

  ARI

  I WAKE UP TO A text from Golfy:

  Any updates on the Bubster?

  I crack up and write back:

  Me: LOL. Cool nickname. No real updates, though.

  Golfy: I sent you something for Valentine’s Day, btw. I know it’s next month but it takes a long time to ship . . .

  I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day.

  Me: Ooooh. What is it?

  He doesn’t respond again after that because he’s not the best texter. It’s like he starts a conversation and then forgets he’s in the middle of it, and puts his phone down and moves on with his day.

  On the bus ride to school, I get a string of texts from the camp girls.

  Alice: how is bub

  Me: eh, ok. Not really sure

  Hana: we love her! And you! Obvs!

  Zoe: keep us updated Ariiiiiiiiiiiii

  I scroll back up and read over chunks of our texting conversations, and I realize that it’s hard to give updates on the Bubbie situation. It’s like I don’t want to tell anyone any of the bad stuff because if I say it out loud it becomes real. And also, I don’t know a ton of information. All I know is, she can’t really walk. She can’t get out of bed on her own. Her speech is all slurred. Her head is tilted to one side.

  Other than that, she’s the same Bubbie. She still has the same clever sense of humor. She still knows everything that’s going on with all of her friends. She still asks a million questions, and wants to be informed, and is up-to-date with politics and everything happening in the world.

  On the way to our lockers after gym, Kaylan asks me a thousand questions. “So when can she go home?”

  “I don’t know. They’re saying she needs to go to some kind of rehab facility. But why can’t she just do all the exercises and physical therapy with someone at home?” I ask Kaylan like she’ll have an answer when obviously she won’t. She prob
ably doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. It’s not like I had an idea about any of this before we found ourselves in this situation.

  Somehow with Kaylan, it feels easier to talk about all of this, easier to ask questions, not only to her but to the universe. Maybe that whole honorary Nodberg granddaughter thing is really true, and that’s why it feels different.

  “Um,” Kaylan starts to answer. “Maybe she can. I’ll ask Mrs. Etisof. I remember when her sister got sick two summers ago. There was a lot of discussion about rehab and therapy and stuff. My mom was always talking to her about it, but I didn’t really pay attention. I can find out, though.”

  Okay, so maybe Kaylan does know more about this than I thought she did.

  “That would be great.” My skin prickles in a good way, thinking that maybe Kaylan’s neighbor Mrs. Etisof could solve all of our problems.

  Kaylan says, “I forgot to tell you. I am going out with Cami’s family for hibachi tonight. It’s Cami’s mom’s birthday but she invited me, too, for some reason.”

  “Of course she did,” I respond, even though I’m not even really sure what I mean by that. It’s a nice thing that she invited Kaylan. But it makes me so angry for some reason. That whole group just makes me so angry and I don’t even know why. It just feels like one of those things that once you start feeling annoyed with someone, you can’t stop.

  “Ari, what’s that all about?” Kaylan asks me.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I’m sorry. I gotta run. Let’s talk later.”

  “Sometimes I don’t get you,” Kaylan says a little louder as I walk away.

  Sometimes I don’t get myself, I want to reply. But I don’t. I just keep walking.

  When I get home after school, my mom is at the kitchen table surrounded by a thousand little slips of paper with random phone numbers and notes and every time she puts her cell phone down, it rings again.

  She holds up a finger as she answers the phone. “Yes, hi.” She pauses. “Right. I see. Okay.” Pause. “Well, we can discuss it. Okay. I’ll be in touch.”

  “What’s happening?” I ask her after she hangs up the phone.