Happy Birthday, Sophie Hartley

by Stephanie Greene

  “Oh, dear.” Mrs. Hartley’s voice sank like a stone.

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Mrs. Stearns said cheerfully, slapping the car door as she straightened up. “I’m sure that as soon as we can find a way for Sophie to focus her energies, she’ll do great things.”

  There was dead silence in the back seat while Mrs. Hartley pulled away from the curb and into the line of cars leaving the school.

  “I’m not even going to ask,” she said grimly.

  “Good,” said Sophie. She ignored the flurry of expressive eye rolling on either side of her and tried to think of something to fill the silence in the car.

  Her mother filled it for her. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, picking up something from the front seat. “I stopped at home on the way here. This came for you.”

  On the other hand, silence could be good. It certainly would have been preferable to the distinct thunk Sophie heard as her heart hit the bottom of her stomach.

  Her mother was holding out an envelope for Sophie to take. “How do you know a Dr. Pimm at the Riverside Zoo?” her mother said.

  “A zoo?” Alice cried. “Oh, Sophie! I bet it’s about Patsy!”

  “What are you waiting for?” Jenna said, nudging Sophie’s side with a sharp elbow. “Open it.”

  “Patsy?” Mrs. Hartley said as Sophie reluctantly took the envelope from her. “Who’s Patsy?”

  NANCY R. PIMM, PH.D., the return label said. Sophie was sorry she’d ever learned how to write. Or that paper had been invented. Or stamps. Or gorillas.

  She didn’t even want to think about what her mother was going to say.

  “Hurry up!” Jenna said, jabbing her again.

  “Yes, Sophie,” Mrs. Hartley said. “Open it.”

  Short of opening the car window and hurling the letter out, there was nothing Sophie could do to avoid opening it. “Okay, okay…” she said. Slowly, she ran her finger under the flap and took out the letter.

  “‘Dear Sophie,’” she read in a flat voice. This was terrible. She felt like a prisoner being forced to read her own guilty verdict. Her mother was the judge. Jenna was the cruel jailer, sitting beside her, ready and eager to carry out the punishment.

  “‘I appreciate your fascination with and love of gorillas,’” Sophie read. “‘But I don’t think you’re going to like the news I have for you.’”

  She looked at the back of her mother’s head.

  “Go on,” said Alice.

  “‘Gorillas are at high risk for extinction,’” Sophie read, “‘and they are being protected by the countries in which they live. You can no longer buy a gorilla due to the strict laws.’”

  What was this? Sophie sat up straighter.

  “‘Even local zoos have to abide by laws that limit how many gorillas they can have in a collection,’” she read, her voice rising. “‘My advice is to adopt a gorilla in a zoo!’”

  “Oh, Sophie.” Alice’s voice was tragic. “Poor you.”

  “Yes. You’ll never get Patsy now, will you?“Jenna said pointedly as she looked at Mrs. Hartley.

  Normally Sophie would have glared at Jenna to make her stop. Now she was too busy scanning the rest of the letter. “I can adopt one,” she reported excitedly. “I can send money to help pay for its food, and when I go to the zoo, I can visit it!”

  She was saved! She couldn’t have a gorilla even if her mother said she could!

  Her mother.

  Sophie looked up to find her mother watching her in the rearview mirror.

  “But that means Patsy can’t live with you and sleep in your room, the way you planned,” Alice was saying.

  “It’s too bad, don’t you think, Mrs. Hartley?” said Jenna. “Sophie can’t get a gorilla for her birthday after all.”

  Here it was. The moment Sophie had been dreading. She held her breath, waiting to hear what her mother was going to say.

  It felt as if the car itself were holding its breath. Alice squeezed Sophie’s hand in sympathy.

  Mrs. Hartley slowly turned into the parking lot in front of the store and parked. She put on the brake and turned off the car. Only then did she turn around. “It certainly is, Jenna,” she said. She beamed her false smile at Sophie next. “Too bad, Sophie. I guess this means Dad will have to stop building Patsy’s cage.”

  “Honestly, Sophie.”

  As her mother pulled away from Alice’s house, Sophie sagged back against the seat and took a deep breath. Two times in one day, she’d had to hold her breath while waiting to see what kind of trouble she was in. Make that three times. It had given her a new appreciation for breathing.

  “A gorilla,” her mother said, shaking her head. “I’m not even going to ask how Jenna and Alice got the impression Dad and I were going to buy you one for your birthday.”

  “I asked Dad…”

  “I’m sure you did,” said Mrs. Hartley. “While he was watching football, no doubt.”

  Sophie was mentally probing her heart to see if it was broken. Nope. It was in one relieved piece. She felt only a tiny, minuscule bit sad she wasn’t getting a gorilla.

  Her passion was gone. She might try living without it for a while. It felt so relaxing.

  “The things you come up with!” her mother was saying. “How on earth did you think you were going to keep a gorilla in the house? What would it do all day? What were you going to feed it?”

  “I thought it might be fun if it ate with us.”

  “With us?” cried Mrs. Hartley. “At the table?” She jerked the car to such an abrupt stop at the red light that in any other circumstances Sophie would have complained of whiplash.

  “That’s all I need. A gorilla eating at our table. As if Thad and John aren’t bad enough.” Mrs. Hartley threw up her hands. “Sure, bring a gorilla. While you’re at it, why not bring a giraffe, too?”

  When her mother started to laugh, so did Sophie. It was such a funny picture: a giraffe bent double at their kitchen table with its neck in knots as it tried to eat, its knees up around its ears.

  Her mother finally stopped laughing and wiped her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” she said. “A gorilla, at your age.”

  “I don’t see what my age has to do with it,” Sophie said. “I’m passionate about gorillas.”

  “You’re passionate about everything you happen to be passionate about at the moment,” her mother said, starting up as the light changed. “When that passion dies down, you become passionate about something else.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, except as one’s children get older, one hopes that they’ll mature,” Mrs. Hartley said encouragingly.

  “Maturing doesn’t mean you have to change everything,” Sophie said. “I hope you don’t expect me to turn into a totally different person the second I turn ten.”

  “I should be so lucky.”

  “Just because someone gets older doesn’t mean they have to give up all their good ideas,” Sophie went on. The conviction was growing stronger inside her by the minute. “What if I want to be a gorilla scientist someday? I should be doing research about it now.”

  “No one’s suggesting you give up your good ideas,” Mrs. Hartley said. “But introducing a touch of realism from time to time—is that too much to ask?” She glanced at Sophie, who was intently reading her letter again, and sighed. “I guess it is.”

  “Dr. Pimm says I can adopt a wild gorilla that lives in the jungle,” Sophie said. “My money will protect the gorilla from poachers. I could even name it after me.”

  “Now, that I can see.”

  Sophie looked up, the vines of the jungle already thick around her. “You can?”

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Hartley. “I can’t think of a better name for a wild gorilla than Sophie.”

  ***

  Mrs. Hartley took Maura upstairs after dinner to put her to bed. When the rest of the family went into the family room to watch TV, Sophie told them about her letter.

  “Boo-hoo,” N
ora said, rubbing her eyes. “No gorilla.”

  “If Sophie’s getting a gorilla, I want an iguana,” said John.

  “I’m not getting one,” Sophie said. “But I might adopt one.”

  “Trevor’s brother has an iguana. It’s only this big.“John held his hands inches apart.

  “Yes, John, but it’s going to grow to be this big.” Mr. Hartley held his hands as far apart as possible.

  “A kid in middle school had shelves for his iguana all over his house,” Thad said, settling down at one end of the couch and picking up the remote.

  “Dad can build shelves for mine,” John said.

  “Right. And because they’ll be crooked, the iguana can use them like slides,” Nora said. “The whole house can become an iguana playground. Right, John?”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Nora,” Mr. Hartley said. “I think you’re all going to be pleasantly surprised to see how much my woodworking skills have improved.”

  “It would be hard for them to get any worse,” muttered Thad.

  “I want one! I want one!” John shouted, jumping up and down on the couch.

  “Thank you, one and all,” Mrs. Hartley said as she came into the room. “John, calm down.”

  “I’ll tell you what, John.” Mr. Hartley grabbed John’s arm to hold him still. “You can have an iguana when you’re twenty-one.”

  “I can?”

  “Absolutely. Your own apartment and your own iguana.”

  “Dad said I can have an iguana!” John shouted.

  “Time for bed,” Mrs. Hartley said, holding out her hand.

  “It’ll serve you right if we all turn into criminals after the devious way you’re raising us,” Nora told her father as Mrs. Hartley led John down from the couch and out of the room.

  “Cool move, Dad,” Thad said. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

  “I’m getting an iguana when I’m twenty-one,” John sang on his way upstairs. “I’m getting an iguana when I’m twenty-one…”

  Sophie went to say good night to her mother and found her reading in bed.

  “Thanks for not getting mad at me in front of Alice and Jenna,” she said as she scrambled across the covers for a kiss.

  “I would never betray a member of my own family,” said Mrs. Hartley, kissing Sophie on the cheek. “Jenna was a little too eager.”

  “I’m not sure Jenna and me can be friends anymore,” Sophie said. She leaned against her mother’s shoulder. “She’s getting to be a snob about lacrosse.”

  “I wouldn’t give up on her too quickly. You two have had your differences before. You’re both stubborn.”

  “That’s mostly what we have now—differences,” said Sophie. “Differences, then the same. Differences, the same.”

  “That’s what girls tend to do at your age, I’m afraid.”

  “Do they ever stop?”

  “Most of them.” Mrs. Hartley patted Sophie’s knee. “Something tells me you and Jenna and Alice will be friends for a long time.”

  It was nice talking about things that were on her mind without having to worry about how she was going to sneak in the subject of a gorilla. Sophie said, “You know what Alice got?” “What?”

  “A bra.”

  “Oh, my.” Her mother sat forward and looked into Sophie’s face. “Are you ready for one of those?”

  “No way. Absolutely not.”

  “Fine. Let me know when you are.” Her mother settled back against the pillows again. “My advice is, don’t rush it. You’ll be wearing one for a long time.”

  “I might never wear one,” Sophie said.

  “There’s always that option.”

  When her mother sighed, Sophie realized how tired she looked.

  “Are you still worried about the car?” Sophie said.

  “It’s not a very good time to have to buy one.”

  “You mean because of the important birthdays coming up?” Sophie said helpfully. Other than Thad moaning about a car, she’d noticed that not much was being said about birthdays around the house. Even though she wasn’t expecting a gorilla anymore, she didn’t want anyone to ignore the subject of presents.

  Time was running out.

  “We’ll manage. We always do.” Her mother sounded alarmingly casual. “It’s not for you to worry about,” she said, kissing Sophie on the forehead. “Go brush your teeth.”

  It was fine and good to tell her not to worry, Sophie thought as she went into the bathroom. But if she didn’t, who was going to? She ticked off potential present givers in her head as she brushed her teeth.

  Her mother had made it clear that she wasn’t worried. As for her father, he could never remember how old any of them were, much less when their birthdays fell. Thad would probably buy her something for his car and then borrow it, and Nora, who Sophie had counted on to buy a real present since she’d started baby-sitting, was so annoyed with Sophie right now, she might not buy anything.

  Sophie sighed. All she could be sure of was macaroni glued to something from John and a wet, sloppy kiss from Maura. It wasn’t much of a list.

  Sophie hated it when her parents worried about money. It made her nervous. And because she loved them and wanted to show them how mature she could be, she decided then and there, foamy mouth and all, that she wouldn’t say another word to them about her present.

  Not one word, no matter how close her birthday came and not a single person in the family asked her about it or even acted as if they were hiding something.

  Sophie went to bed feeling proud and selfless, without any idea of how hard it was going to be to keep her resolve. Especially after Thad got the present of his dreams the very next day, and it wasn’t even his birthday.

  EIGHT

  “Now, this is what I call a car.” Thad slowly circled the car his father had just driven into the driveway and ran his hand along the roof. “Six cylinders, power windows, sunroof … this, I won’t have to drive under cover of darkness.”

  “No fair,” Sophie said. “It’s not even Thad’s birthday.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Mrs. Hartley. “It’s not even Thad’s car.”

  Thad was sure acting as if it were. The whole family was admiring it. Sophie didn’t understand what the big deal was. The car was tan, like every other car in the world. They’d have to stick a daisy on top of the antenna so they could find it in the mall parking lot.

  It wasn’t new, either. There was a scratch on one of the rear doors and a small dent on the front bumper. But because Thad was so pleased, Sophie said in a disgruntled voice, “What’s so great about it?”

  “It’s not a van,” Nora told her. “And it has a CD player instead of a tape player.”

  “Raffi was on tape, and you loved him,” Sophie said.

  “Puh-lease…”

  “Leather seats?” Mrs. Hartley said. “Are you sure we can afford it?”

  “Relax, honey.” Mr. Hartley patted her back reassuringly. “It was a steal.”

  The car had belonged to a retired navy admiral. Mr. Hartley had moved him into town five years ago and was now moving him to Florida. Mr. Hartley said that it looked as good as it did because it had spent most of the time in the admiral’s garage. The admiral was selling it to him “for a song.”

  “Don’t get too excited, Thad,” he added. “It has seventy-five thousand miles on it.”

  “That’s almost as much as the van,” said Sophie.

  “Half, baby, do the math.” Thad slid into the driver’s seat and wiggled the stick shift back and forth while adjusting the rearview mirror. John got in next to him and went “Vroom! Vroom!” and pretended to press the gas pedal.

  Even Nora was impressed. She blew on the silver circle on the front of the hood and polished it with her sleeve.

  Sophie went back inside to eat breakfast. Who made the rules, anyway? she thought as she poured herself some cereal. Why was it all right to love a car because it wasn’t a van, but if you wanted a gorilla, you were a baby? And
what if, now that her parents had used all their money to buy a car, they didn’t have any left for her present?

  They’d better not try to give her the car for her birthday, too, the way they gave the swing set to all the Hartley children for Christmas one year. If they did, and if Sophie was going to keep her promise, she would have to pretend she was happy.

  This having to act mature was going to be much harder than she’d anticipated, Sophie realized glumly. And she hadn’t even been doing it for a whole day.

  She cheered up when she got to school. Alice had already spread the word. Everyone felt sorry for her. Sophie did her best to look sad but brave.

  There were several “I’m sorry about your gorilla” cards on her desk when she got to her room. Even Mrs. Stearns was sympathetic.

  “We’re all disappointed for you, Sophie,” she said. “But I have faith in you. Whatever you come up with next will be equally far-fetched.”

  Brendan sidled up to Sophie when she was standing with Alice at recess. “I was going to inform you that another potential problem is that gorillas sleep starting at six o’clock at night,” he said, his finger in his notebook to hold his place, “but I suppose you’re no longer interested.”

  “No longer,” said Sophie.

  “Fine.” Brendan took out his finger and snapped his notebook shut.

  “What happened?” Destiny said, stopping next to them as they watched Brendan walk away. “Did you two break up?”

  The nerve of her, acting like she was as old as Nora.

  “Yep. I dumped him,” Sophie said airily. “Come on, Alice.”

  “You did?” Destiny called after her.

  “You can have him on the rebound!” Sophie shouted. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but if Nora didn’t want a boy on the rebound, she bet Destiny wouldn’t, either.

  “What did you just say to her?” Alice said excitedly.

  “I don’t have a clue,” said Sophie. If she’d had a ponytail, she would have flicked it.

  The best part came when Sophie and Alice were washing their hands in the girls’ room on their way back to class. Sophie glanced at Alice as they stood side by side in front of the mirror and said in a low voice, “Are you still wearing that … that… thing?”