12 Before 13

by Lisa Greenwald

  She’s Israeli and she teaches Earth Science, and I think we’re going to be the perfect team. Plus if there’s downtime she can help me improve my Israeli dancing skills—four weeks at camp was only enough time to really learn the basics.

  I get to the astronomy classroom, and six kids are there already. Then Ms. Yarden comes running in. Her glasses are on the top of her head and her frizzy brown curls are flying all around.

  “Hello, hello, my lovely students,” she says, putting down her piles of folders and taking a deep breath.

  “Hi,” I say quietly.

  I don’t know most of the other kids in here, but they all seem to be on the shy side—just sitting at the desks, not really talking to one another.

  “Arianna,” Ms. Yarden says from the desk at the front of the room. She calls me over with a curved finger.

  I walk over to her, and she says, “Would you like to introduce the club? Explain what we’ll be doing? That sort of thing.”

  I nod. “Sure. I’m just getting the hang of this myself, though,” I admit. “So do you have any experience with this? I figure you do, and that’s why you’re the faculty adviser, but . . .”

  “I do. Don’t worry.” She smiles. “It will be great.”

  I walk over to the group, and we all move our chairs in a circle.

  “Let’s go around and say our names, our grades, and our favorite ice cream flavor,” I tell everyone. Two more kids come in at that point, and I motion for them to take a seat.

  It’s not like I really planned this or anything, it’s just kind of coming to me. At this very moment, I really feel like a leader. One hundred percent. And it doesn’t seem like a struggle or a wobbly start—I feel pretty natural about it.

  “I’ll start. I’m Arianna, but a lot of people call me Ari. Either is fine. And, um, I’m in seventh grade, and my favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate milk and cookies. It’s very specific and hard to find, but it’s basically cookies and cream but with chocolate ice cream.”

  “Hi, I’m Anya, I’m in seventh grade. I’m new this year, by the way. And my favorite ice cream flavor is rocky road.”

  Anya has a super high-pitched voice and her hair is in pigtails. She’s wearing overalls with a faded gray T-shirt underneath.

  There’s something about her that seems easygoing and calming.

  The rest of the kids go—a few sixth graders, a few eighth graders, and three seventh graders I don’t know.

  “Okay, so we’re going to start slow,” I tell everyone, kind of feeling like I’m channeling Pres from Camp Silver right now. “We’re going to do these three-minute meditation exercises that I found online to start, and then every meeting we will increase it by a minute. And it’s okay if your mind wanders. You just have to let it wander and then let it come back.”

  Ms. Yarden nods. “Yes, wonderful. And then if there are people who want to lead any exercises that will be great, too. But we will get there. We have all year.”

  When she says that, I let out a deep breath.

  It feels like Kaylan and I are rushing and cramming to get everything in by my bat mitzvah—our list deadline.

  But this club isn’t like that—we really do have the entire school year.

  And that feels great and reassuring.

  “The first exercise we’re going to try is called Concentration Meditation. It’s basically just focusing all your energy on one thing.” I pause. “And today we’ll focus on breathing.”

  Everyone looks at me.

  “Ready?” I smile.

  They nod.

  And I know we’re at the start of something magical.

  FORTY

  I WAIT FOR KAYLAN OUTSIDE the gym because we planned to take the late bus home together.

  We’re only a few days away from the deadline. And maybe more important—a few days away from our birthdays and my bat mitzvah.

  It’s already ten minutes after the clubs have ended, and she’s not here.

  I start to get a wrangly feeling in my stomach, like she got a ride home with someone else and forgot me.

  Not this again.

  I’ll have to call my mom for a ride, but who knows if she’s even home. And what if I call and my dad is there, and he has to pick me up? I hate to be alone with him since he’s so depressed and worn-out looking.

  There’s like nothing to say to him anymore. I don’t know how that happened.

  Ever since the job-loss thing, it’s like there’s this glaze of sadness covering my whole family. Like when you buy a picture frame, and there’s that slim sheet of plastic you have to peel off before you can use it.

  We’re all covered in a slim piece of sadness plastic.

  I need to talk to him and get all of this out in the open. Not only because I still need to tell a boy how I really feel, but because I want to get rid of this giant slimy alien tension that seems to always be creeping around.

  I keep looking behind me to find Kaylan, and after another ten minutes of that, I can’t take it anymore. I try to do a quick meditation exercise, focusing on my breathing to calm myself down.

  It kind of works.

  I decide to walk around the school and look for her. Maybe she’s stuck talking to a teacher or something.

  I hoist my backpack over my shoulders and start searching. For a second, I feel like some wilderness explorer with a heavy pack, hiking through tall grass in search of some nearly extinct wildlife. But truthfully, I’m just walking on linoleum, carrying a mildly heavy pack, looking for my best friend.

  I turn down the C corridor and peek into the computer lab, and there she is—staring at a screen, typing furiously.

  “Kaylan? What’s happening? You know it’s time to go, right?” I look at my watch. “Actually, I think we already missed the late bus.”

  “Oh, really?” She jumps up and then leans over to sign out of whatever she was doing on the computer. “Sorry, Ari.” She makes a silly smile at her rhyme.

  “I don’t get it—what were you doing? Still researching comedy clubs?”

  She hesitates a second. “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “There aren’t that many near us.” I look at her sideways, waiting for her to tell me the truth, but she doesn’t. I get that wrangly feeling again, like something is up.

  “Why are you being shady again?” I ask her.

  “I’m not. I promise.” She leaves the computer lab and comes over to me. “We can call my mom to pick us up. She told me she was taking the afternoon off. Mental health day or something.”

  “Oh, like a massage? Mani-pedi?” I ask, suddenly feeling jealous of Kaylan’s mom. Maybe I need a mental health day.

  “I think so. She’s seeing Robert Irwin Krieger this weekend.” Kaylan wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “They’re kind of in love, I think. How easy was that? Like, too easy, right?”

  “I guess,” I say. “We’re just good matchmakers. Maybe that can be our career one day.”

  “OMG.” Kaylan stops in the middle of the hallway and eye-bulges at me. “Yes! BFF matchmakers! How amazing?”

  “Amazing,” I say, still a little uncertain about what Kaylan was doing on the computer for so long.

  Kaylan calls her mom, and she says she’ll pick us up in fifteen minutes; she’s just waiting for her nails to dry. We sit outside on the curb in front of the gym.

  “How was Mindfulness Club? Were you extra mindful?” She giggles.

  “It went well,” I tell her. “Definitely not a million people. But the few that showed were pretty into it.”

  “That’s all you need,” Kaylan replies.

  “I got to lead an exercise! On the first day.”

  “For real? That’s awesome, Ar.”

  “Sorry to brag,” I say, kicking around a pebble on the pavement in front of me. “It was just so cool. I had to tell you.”

  “Arianna Simone Nodberg.” Kaylan looks deep into my eyes, and we try as hard as we can not to laugh. “I’m your BFF. BFFs are for bragging.”

&n
bsp; “That has a fab ring to it.” I crack up and repeat, “BFFs are for bragging.”

  FORTY-ONE

  “HOW COME YOU GOT TO be the purple crayon?” Gemma asks me when we’re eating breakfast. She decided to dress up as a bowl of popcorn. Of course. “Was it because of that book Harold and the Purple Crayon?”

  I laugh. “Um, I don’t know. I just said I’d be purple? And no one else wanted it.”

  “What color is Kaylan?”

  “Green. She loves green. I think it has to do with the Irish thing,” I explain.

  “Do Jews have a color?” she asks me. Seriously, how is she so chatty this early in the morning? I don’t get it.

  “Um, blue or white, I guess. For Israel.” I pour some Cheerios into my bowl. “You have a lot of questions, Gem.”

  “So?” She glares at me.

  I finish chewing. “Just saying.”

  When Kaylan and I walk into school in our costumes on Halloween, the whole world feels like it’s lit up. I don’t think anyone is ever too old for Halloween—the excitement, the candy, the chance to dress up and be someone or something else. It’s pure magic and a nice break from the stress of all my other days.

  The only slightly wiggly thing on my mind is that my bat mitzvah is in four days. Our deadline is in four days. I think I’ve lost track of how much we still have to accomplish, but I don’t want to bring it up now.

  We find the rest of the girls at our lockers.

  “Picture time!” Cami squeals. She hands the phone to Mrs. Divar, the hallway monitor. “Thanks so much.”

  “After this picture, the phone goes away, Cameron.” Mrs. Divar looks at us through the bottom of her glasses. “Doesn’t matter that it’s Halloween. Rules are rules.”

  Such a shame that she can’t get into the holiday spirit.

  We all stand together, arms over one another’s shoulders, and a content, satisfied feeling washes over me. Yeah, these girls aren’t perfect. Yeah, they’re not my soul mate Camp Silver friends. But they’re not the worst, either. I mean, they put a lot of thought and effort into the Halloween costumes. They picked something that could include everyone.

  I think they can grow on me. They already kinda have.

  “Attention, students, first period is canceled today. Please make your way to the auditorium for the social action assembly. Thank you.”

  I turn to look at Kaylan. “It’s a B day. No math!”

  “Hallelujah!” she sings.

  “I’m talking to Isabela at Jay’s party tonight. Okay? Don’t argue with me.” I put my backpack in my locker since we don’t need it for the assembly. “Like you suggested.”

  Kaylan nods. “Sounds good, but can we discuss this later? I don’t want to ruin my happy Halloween, no-math-today good mood!”

  “Of course.” I link my arm through hers, and we walk to assembly together. “Let’s write the note to Mr. G after lunch, okay?”

  The rest of the day flies by because everyone (except for Mrs. Divar, apparently) is in a happy mood. Even my super-strict honors block teachers let us watch movies and hang out. In library class, we don’t have to do any database or catalog exercises—we get to sit and listen to a group of teachers do a spooky reading of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven.”

  All in all, it’s a great day, and at five o’clock on the dot, the Crayons get to Jay Yeung’s party.

  “Guys, we are going to be the cutest people at this party,” June says as we walk in.

  “No doubt about it,” I reply.

  “He has this every year?” Kira asks as we walk up the long path to his front door. “We didn’t go last Halloween.”

  “No, this is his first year doing it,” Cami explains. “They moved to Brookside last year, but they built this house from the ground up and it’s so huge and the backyard is pretty much a golf course, so his parents said he could have a Halloween party and invite the whole grade.”

  “Wow,” Amirah says, adjusting her orange crayon outfit.

  “How do you know all of this, Cam?” M.W. asks. “Like, for real? You’re like a Brookside encyclopedia.”

  “Um, yeah I am.” She holds out her hand for everyone to high-five her. She’s too much, as always, but tonight it’s not bothering me the way it usually does.

  We go inside, and Jay’s mom (at least I think she’s Jay’s mom) is dressed in a witch costume. We all take a red drink off of the platter she’s holding.

  “Um, there are eyeballs in here!” Kaylan yelps. “OMG.”

  We go through the kitchen to the backyard, and it’s set up like a crazy-spooky haunted house. Skeletons everywhere. Dangling heads. Spiderwebs. Some sound system that makes the creepiest sounds—like people screaming and doors creaking and ominous cat sounds.

  “This is intense,” I whisper to Kaylan.

  Jason and his friends are over by the snack table, so we walk over there to say hi. There’s a spread of the usual stuff, like pizza and pigs in a blanket and mini egg rolls. But then there are also creepy Halloween snacks. Rolled bread in the shape of severed fingers with almonds as the nail and jelly on the edges. A cheese dip made to look like a giant eyeball with a green olive in the middle. A Jell-O mold in the shape of a brain. And then a big bowl of spaghetti that really and truly looks like worms to me.

  Part of me wonders if they hired some kind of party planner and caterer for this. Would anyone really do that for a kids’ Halloween party? And then I wonder—should I have Jay plan my new bat mitzvah?

  “Everyone having fun?” Jay comes over to us, taking out his fangs and interrupting my train of thought. “Sorry, didn’t want to spit on y’all.”

  “This party is sick,” Jason says.

  “Yeah, such an awesome party, Jay.”

  He gives us all two thumbs-ups, and we take plates of food and go to sit near the very large half-decapitated coffin man by the swimming pool.

  I’m in the middle of some of my eyeball cheese dip when I see Isabela Gomez-Wright coming in with a few of her friends.

  “Be right back, guys.” I get up from the table and walk over to her. A few minutes later, Kaylan comes to join us.

  Good. We need to do this together.

  “Isabela, can we talk to you about something?” I ask her, after I gush about her amazing Where’s Waldo costume.

  “What? Why? Is my costume messed up or something?”

  “Oh no. Nothing like that. It’s okay,” I reassure her.

  We go to sit on the hammock, and I say, “Listen, I don’t want to make this long because we’re at a party obviously, and we’re here to have fun, but . . .”

  Kaylan jumps in, “Mr. Gavinder never calls on you. Or any GIRLS.” She yells the last part. “And we want to change that. And, um, help you shine.”

  Isabela laughs. “Wait, what? This is weird, guys.”

  “No, for real,” I say. “We’re going to write him an anonymous note. But we wanted you to know about it. We want you to be noticed for your efforts. And your brilliance. You’re amazing at math, Isabela.”

  She shifts to the edge of the hammock. “Thank you. I mean, it has been bothering me. Math is, like, my thing. And he never notices me. At all.”

  “Exactly!” I yell, grateful that this party is so noisy that no one can hear me. “That’s not right! Are you okay with us writing the anonymous note? Do you want to write it?”

  Isabela laughs for a second. “Um, you can write it, I guess.”

  “Okay. It’s seriously messed up,” Kaylan says, shaking her head. “We want to help.”

  “Thank you, guys. This is really nice.”

  One of her friends calls over to her. “Isabela, come check this out!”

  “I gotta run.” She smiles.

  Kaylan and I discuss the note for a few seconds, and I write down a few things on my phone.

  “I’ll write it when I get home tonight. I mean, type it, so he can’t recognize my handwriting or anything, okay?” I ask Kaylan.

  “Sounds great. My heart is pound
ing right now. Is yours? I feel like we’re really going to make some actual, like, real change.”

  “I know! Me too!” I laugh. “About the heart pounding and the change.”

  We go back to the Crayons, and we keep snacking and hanging out. My insides feel foamy like the soap Mom buys for the downstairs bathroom. Helping people is definitely one of my passions.

  There was literally no way to narrow it down to just one.

  I found a few passions. And I’m pursuing all of them.

  I make a mental note to check that off the list and JHH when I get home.

  After trick-or-treating, I get home, text a quick selfie of my Crayon costume to the camp girls, and then I get into pajamas and crawl into bed.

  Alice: ari u look so good!

  Ari: thank u! How was every1’s Halloween? Fab times here. 4 real

  Alice: so fab here 2. My friends & I dressed as fairy-tale peeps. I was little red riding hood

  Hana: amaze. Every1 came to my house and we handed out candy for the little kids. Fun!

  Zoe: did bldg trick-or-treating, town houses, stores, etc. Halloween in NYC is BONKERS

  Ari: love u guys so so so so much

  When I can’t fall asleep, I group text the Crayons about what a fab Halloween I had and then I write out Kaylan’s birthday card.

  Kaylan never complains about her birthday being the day after Halloween. It’s a funny day to have for a birthday because there’s, like, no buildup to it. Everyone is pumped for Halloween and then bam—birthday time.

  I think the fact that mine is the day after hers makes it better—like we’re in this weird birthday zone together.

  It makes it easier and also more celebratory.

  FORTY-TWO

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!” I scream into the phone. “So sorry I won’t be on the bus, but I’m getting a ride to school because I need to talk to Ms. Yarden about Mindfulness Club.”

  “Uh-huh. Whatever.” She laughs. “See you soon, Ari.”

  She totally knows I’m lying, but she doesn’t fight me on it.

  Our birthdays are a guaranteed ride-the-bus-alone day, which is sad because, duh, it’s our birthday. But it’s essential.