by Rachel Vail
“What do you wish?”
“I wish they would stop saying DANNY. Or that my name could be Tom.”
Where to even start with him? “Danny, you can’t go to the closet during a test—maybe she thought you were cheating.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know that. I know you wouldn’t. But how would Ms. Broderick know whether you were looking at answers in your coat or something?”
“I wasn’t cheating,” Danny said. “I was looking for my key. I told you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I heard—did you also throw a book?”
“That was a different time.”
“Right. You threw a book at Ms. Broderick?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I just threw it. Not at her.”
“But it hit her?”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you yell I don’t want you at Margot Hu?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? Danny!”
“I didn’t want her.”
“How do you think that made her feel, you yelling that?”
“I don’t know.” He looked perplexed at the question, like it was the weirdest thing I could ask. “She didn’t say anything about her feelings. She walked away.”
“Okay,” I said. “Anyway, the testing was okay?”
I waited while he thought. After a long minute, he said, “The questions she asked were interesting, and she let me tell my full thoughts without interrupting me, which Mom and Dad don’t do. Which they should do, for me. Because I might have some differences in how my brain works. Therefore, my eyes are more sensitive to light. My kind of brain might be the kind that makes me great at noticing and remembering details, but not as smooth at friendship as some people are.”
I waited, making sure he was done.
He was staring at me, his expression blank.
“So, you feel okay about it?”
He shrugged. “It feels good to know maybe there is something real that is different about me. Something interesting. That I’m not just stupid or lazy.”
“Did somebody call you those things?” I asked, my hand tightening into a fist.
“However,” Danny insisted. “Mom said not to think of it as having a disability. If I have that kind of brain. She said to think of it as maybe having some gifts, and also some challenges to overcome, like everybody has.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“Everybody has gifts and challenges.”
“Okay.”
“I have sensitive ears, too. I scored the highest of anyone ever on my hearing test.”
“I know it.”
“Have you heard of body language?”
“Sure,” I said. “Why?”
“The psychologist was asking me about body language. I thought she meant the game show. You know that show? On YouTube?”
“No,” I said.
“I said, Okay, I’ll watch it again, and she asked, What? She didn’t know what I meant. I’ve watched all seven seasons.”
“Danny, I think maybe she meant—”
“I wanted to talk about the show, but she said I could tell her about it a different time, maybe next week. This week she wanted to say that body language is also a way that people communicate but not with words. You have to look right at people and see what they are communicating with their face and body. Did you know that?”
“I guess,” I said. “I mean, sure.”
“So then you’re probably not on the spectrum,” he said. “I might be.”
“Okay.”
“That’s what it’s called, the kind of brain I might have, but we don’t know yet. Things other people just seem to know, I have to learn. But everybody has to pay attention to body language. It’s not easy for anybody, but it may be harder for some people, like me. Maybe. If I have that. I have to make sure I’m looking at people to see what they’re saying, with body language. You can find out their secret feelings, with that technique.”
“Okay.”
He stared at me. “I can’t tell what you’re feeling. I just see you sitting on my bed.”
“I feel . . .” I said. “I feel like, I guess, like, I hope you feel okay about the testing.”
“Oh.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
He didn’t answer.
“Danny?”
“Maybe you’re on the spectrum too, because you don’t know how I’m feeling.”
“Danny, I don’t . . .”
“I feel fine,” he said. “I also feel a little hungry and a little sleepy and a little like playing some more of this game.”
“Okay,” I said, and left. I could hear his game beeping and blipping as I halfway shut his door, and then mine, behind me.
29
RIDING MY BIKE to school the next morning was less terrifying. I was actually thinking about other things as I coasted down the hill on Victory, not just don’t fall don’t die don’t fall don’t die. The things I was thinking were, in order:
1. This is actually kind of fun
2. And much faster than waiting in the back seat of the car for Danny to get shoved out of the house by Mom
3. Is that Milo and Robby at the stop sign?
4. Don’t fall don’t die don’t fall don’t die right in front of them
“Hey,” Robby said.
My heart was pounding so hard from the effort at not falling not dying that any response was impossible.
“How’d you do on the science test?” Milo asked.
“Um, okay,” I said. “You?”
“He got a ninety-nine and he’s pissed,” Robby said.
“I don’t think you should get a point off for spelling on a science test,” Milo argued.
“Well, I don’t think you should get fifteen points off for making up facts,” Robby said, shrugging. “I’m not arguing.”
“Just mocking,” I said.
“Yeah,” Robby agreed. “You going to Isabel’s tomorrow?”
“To . . . oh, to Isabel’s?”
“For the party?” Robby asked. “Tomorrow night? I thought I heard you and Ava were going.”
“Oh,” I said. “That. Sure. I mean, no. I’m, I have other plans.”
“You should come,” Milo said. “If you want to, I mean.”
“Yeah, I’m doing a thing; I have plans. With Holly. Jones.”
“Oh,” Robby said. “Are you going somewhere? I heard her parents go to concerts in Boston sometimes. Didn’t her mom used to be in a band or something?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Milo said.
“We should go, right?” I asked. “To school?”
“Ugh, again?” Robby asked. “We’re constantly doing that.”
“It’s like a habit at this point,” Milo said.
This time they both did that cool graceful flip of their long legs over the seat while already moving. I was still lining my pedals up just so, straddling my bike and praying not to topple over.
I made it to school, and made it through the day without crying or blurting out anything about the party the Squad was having that I was not, obviously, invited to. I felt as empty and misshapen as my sad elephant bowl, which had cracked in the kiln.
Holly said she knows a way to fix it. Like a cracked bowl matters. Like it’s anything but a metaphor to (for) me at this point. “Great,” I said. “Thanks.”
“I’ll show you next week, or at our sleepover tomorrow night!”
“Super,” I said, and saw Milo look away.
After school Mom asked if I could come help her at her open house on Sunday.
“Sure,” I said. “But, um, hey. Would it be okay if Holly Jones sleeps over tomorrow night?”
I still hadn’t asked, and
here it was, twenty-four hours before Holly was going to show up with her sleeping bag and her stuffed goose named Gander and her art case, ready for all the fun we’d spent the past few days planning. But I knew how Mom would respond. And I was right.
“Of course!” Mom said, hugely positive. “Any of your friends are welcome here, anytime! All of them, in fact!”
“Just Holly,” I said.
“That’s fine,” Mom said, smiling big. “That’s great!”
“I know, Mom. You don’t have to reassure me so much.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. I love Holly!”
Right. It’s just, Mom knows what’s happening with Ava, knows Ava moved up socially and dumped me. Mom feels terrible for me, the way I feel for Danny. That made me feel so much worse.
“Great, thanks,” I said.
“Wow, I haven’t really seen much of Holly in so long. She must be so much more grown-up now.”
“Yeah, well.”
“Is she still so creative? I always thought of her as super creative. Like you! Your pictures from Danny’s party were so—oh, remind me to tell you—I hope you don’t mind if I shared them with—”
“It’s okay,” I said, just wanting out of the conversation.
“I’m sure nothing will come of it, but who knows! And Holly’s mom, so talented. I should give her a call. I always liked her, too. Is Holly still wearing those thick glasses or has she gotten contacts yet?”
“Glasses,” I said. “Like me.”
“Oh, sure, but hers were really thick, right? Yours are so cute. I had thick ones like hers when I was little and I couldn’t wait to get contacts!”
“Some people like glasses,” I said, and opened the fridge. “Do we have anything to eat?”
“I’m going to the store. You want to go with me? We can pick some fun snacks for you and Holly to have, for tomorrow night. And if you want, she could come too, if you want to come help at my open house. You could be my helpers! If that would be fun. But if you stay up late watching movies, you could sleep in, and you could ride your bikes over, whenever you’re ready. You’ve gotten so into riding your bike, it’s like you’re a real teenager all of a sudden!”
I resisted saying, As opposed to a fake teenager? I AM THIRTEEN! I knew she was trying to be nice, she wasn’t the one I was actually mad at, and I shouldn’t be a brat. So I went with her to the grocery store and picked out snacks and food to have with Holly for our awesome sleepover that we were going to have so much fun at! While all the cool kids in the whole grade were at a real-teenager party that I was totally not invited to, so what, who cares.
30
I WAS VIDEO chatting with Holly, making plans for her to come over later, when everything started breaking apart.
I had told her my mom was really looking forward to seeing her, in fact was so excited for the sleepover that she had splurged and bought us three different types of face masks to try, and a sample pack of nail polishes. Mom was so happy I was interested in nail polish. I’m not. But I’d rather have bought than shoplifted nail polish, and I was trying to stretch, to grow up. Of course I didn’t tell that to Holly. I wouldn’t tell her about Ava stealing. Ava may have dumped me, but even in my angriest, most hurt moments, which are, to be fair, most of my moments, I wouldn’t tell people that Ava is an actual thief. If she got arrested, I would go and sit with her in jail or at the police station and she’d see what a good friend I really am, and she’d regret everything and beg me to forgive her. And I’d say, There’s nothing to forgive. And then I would forgive her anyway.
But still, I haven’t told anybody.
Holly was saying her mom had loaded up her bag with extra markers and X-Acto knives.
“X-Acto knives?” I asked.
“Are they allowed at your house?”
“I guess,” I said. “Honestly it’s never come up. What would a person do with X-Acto knives?”
“Cut stuff out,” she said. “You know, like if we want to cut things out of magazines, to make a collage or something? Do you have magazines?”
“Sure,” I said. “And catalogs? My mom gets a lot of catalogs.”
“Perfect,” she said. “We could make posters. New motto posters! Or just do the face masks and nails, like you were thinking. Does Danny still like dancing? We could do dances with him, if you want.”
I had to laugh. Ava always ignores Danny, and wants to stay in my room with the door closed. “I don’t know,” I said. “He likes those, you know, the shows with singing competitions?”
“Oh, we could make one of those, and rig it so he ends up the big winner! Wouldn’t that be fun? We could make him prizes? You’re so lucky you have a little brother. I just have Jaydon and he’s so serious, always studying or practicing piano.”
Her older brother is serious but also seriously handsome and smart. He played a piano concert last year for the whole seventh and eighth grades, even though he was in eleventh grade. It was really good. “Jaydon is awesome,” I was saying, when my cell phone buzzed. I picked it up. It was Ava, texting:
Hey if I tell you a secret you have to promise not to tell anyone okay?
I texted below where my computer’s camera could see: Of course
Holly went on, talking about her brother and how he was deciding if he wanted to go to a regular college and study math, or a music college and study piano, and what her parents thought about that. Meanwhile, Ava was texting me:
What do you think about Chase Croft?
me: Ummm . . . I don’t know. Why?
She hadn’t texted me in over a week.
Ava: Don’t you think he looked kinda cute yesterday?
me: no
Ava: you totally did, I could tell! in a knuckle-dragger Neanderthal way?
me: Is that a way a person can look cute?
Chase? Really? Gross. He is the opposite of cute. Did Ava think I liked him? What was she getting at? He had asked me if he could see my math homework as we walked into class yesterday, and I hadn’t really wanted to let him but she doesn’t collect it anyway, so why should I be a jerk about it? I let him have a look. He thanked me. Maybe Ava and the Squad thought I liked him or something. Ew.
Holly had moved on to ideas for things we could bake tonight. A much nicer topic. “We could do cookies,” I suggested.
“Have you ever made molten chocolate cakes? They’re so delicious and honestly not that challenging. We could make them for your whole family!”
“That sounds awesome,” I said.
“Do you have ramekins?”
“Do we have what?”
I checked my phone. Ava had texted: You have to admit Chase has a nice chin
Chin? I don’t know. His chin? I never actually thought about anyone’s chin before. What are the qualities of a good chin? What does a chin even do? What would make it good? His chin???
“Ramekins,” Holly was saying. “You know those single-serving high-sided bowl things? I’m pretty sure we have some, so if you don’t, I could bring some.”
“What do you think makes a chin a good chin?” I asked Holly.
“A chin?” Holly stopped to consider it. “I guess, maybe, clear differentiation from the neck?”
“Huh,” I said. “I guess so.”
“I never really thought about it before,” she said.
“Me either,” I said.
Chase Croft is a skinny bonehead in track pants.
I tried to picture him, his chin, his face. His head looks like a skull. You could put a line drawing of his actual face on a bottle of poison and people would know not to drink it.
“Now I’m trying to picture everybody’s chin,” Holly was saying.
“Me too!”
Holly brought her computer into the bathroom with her. “Chins are weird, man.”
I fe
lt mine with my hand. “Mine has an indent.”
“A cleft,” Holly said. “Like mine. I like those, don’t you? About our chins?”
“I guess,” I said. I took my computer into the bathroom to look at my chin in the mirror too.
Ava texted: And his cheekbones? Like, in a rough way? A little, yk, dangerous?
Dangerous like tuberculosis, I typed but then deleted.
me: He definitely has sticky-outy cheekbones.
Ava: Right????
me: Why are you asking me about Chase’s face?
Holly asked if everything was okay. I looked up. “Yeah,” I said. “Actually, can I call you back in a sec? I just have to, um, deal with a thing. . . .”
“Okay!” she said. “See if you have ramekins. Oh, and yeast! Otherwise I could bring some. Flatbread pizzas?”
“Amazing,” I said.
As I hung up, my phone was going nuts in my hand.
Ava: You should come to Isabel’s tonight
We’re having a little party
It’ll be fun
I could use a true friend there as a wingman!
Who can I trust but you????
Come on come
Ask your mom
I texted her back: I have plans.
In one sec, the three dots, and then the flood:
Ava: Come on, Niki
This will be more fun
Pleaseeeeee
I miss you
Come to the partyyyyyyy
31
I CLOSED MY door to call Holly back.
She answered on the first ring. “So? Do you have ramekins?”
“I didn’t, Holly, I . . .”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did something happen?”
“No, I just, I . . .”
“You look like you’re about to cry, Niki. What is it? We don’t have to make molten chocolate cakes if you don’t want to.”
“No, that’s not . . . Holly.”
“What? You can tell me.”
“I was just thinking, do you think, you can say no and it’s fine, but, do you think we could reschedule our sleepover? Do it a different night?”