13 Gifts

by Wendy Mass

  “Thank You,” I say, clutching it in my hands. “It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

  He laughs. “Man, I hope that’s not true.”

  “I thought I heard noises out here,” Uncle Roger says. “You’re not planning on climbing into the pool hole this late, are you?”

  David shakes his head and stands up. “I’ve had my last practice session. Thanks for lending me the tape recorder.”

  “No problem,” Uncle Roger says. “You can keep it.”

  “Um, I really need that back,” I say. “I have to return it to the woman who … oh, never mind, just keep it.”

  David shrugs. “Okay. You never know when a giant tape recorder might come in handy.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Uncle Roger says, beaming.

  “Well, good night,” David says to me.

  I glance at Uncle Roger, who doesn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. “Good night. Thank you again.”

  “Happy early birthday,” he says, pausing for a minute at the edge of the patio. He glances at Uncle Roger, too. The man is clearly not going anywhere. David gives me a final wave and walks out the gate.

  Uncle Roger puts his arm around my shoulder as we head back into the house. “Am I going to have to make that boy sign something, too?”

  “Very funny,” I reply. But I know it wouldn’t matter anyway. By the time we’re in ninth grade, he’ll have forgotten all about the girl who lived across the street for a summer.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It seems like everyone in town has suddenly found a reason to stop by the community center. By the time I arrive Thursday morning, I have to push my way through the crowd to get to the back room, which is not easy with a big box in my arms. Big Joe is standing in front of the door, his arms crossed. He motions with his thumb to a sign on the door. PRIVATE — CAST AND CREW ONLY.

  “It’s me, Tara,” I say. I gesture to the big box in my arms. “Playbills? Heavy?”

  When he doesn’t budge, I add, “I’m the producer?”

  Rory opens the door and grabs for my arm. “It’s okay, Joe, it’s her.”

  He grunts and moves aside. “You kids all look the same to me.”

  “What’s going on?” I ask when I finally get inside. I plop the box on the floor. Putting the playbills together gave me six different paper cuts, but I think they came out really well.

  “That’s what’s going on,” Rory says, pointing to the corner of the room. Jake is sitting at one of the round tables with about ten journalists with tape recorders and notebooks surrounding him. A guy in a suit and tie hovers protectively, making sure that no one gets too close. I’m pretty sure that’s his manager. He looks familiar from pictures I’ve seen of Jake at movie premieres and stuff.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Rory says quietly. Her usually bright eyes have dimmed.

  “The play? You can totally do this. It’s just one night. It’s a half hour, really. And then tomorrow we have the bar mitzvah and the movie to look forward to, right?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean the play. I meant Jake. How can I have a relationship with someone when the whole world watches his every move? How would that even work?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit.

  “Any minute I keep thinking he’s going to wake up and wonder why on earth he likes me.”

  “There’s a million reasons to like you,” I tell her.

  Jake looks up at that moment. His face changes when he sees Rory watching. It softens from the stiff smile he’d been giving the reporters, to a genuine one. I see her smile in return, despite her worries. I never thought I’d say it, but I don’t envy her right now. Jake seems great, but in a spotlight that big, there’s nowhere to hide.

  Everyone’s on edge by the end of the day, and Ray treats us all to pizza. While we’re eating, he says, “All right, anyone need to whinge about anything? If so, now’s the time.”

  “Whinge means ‘complain,’ ” Jake translates. “I did a movie-of-the-week in Australia when I was younger.”

  “Hey, me, too!” David calls out. Everyone laughs, including Jake.

  “My last movie-of-the-week was in Greenland!” Annabelle says. “Pretty cold up there, but my trailer was heated really well!”

  Sari raises her hand.

  “Let me guess,” Ray says. “Movie-of-the-week in the rain forests of Brazil?”

  “Nope,” Sari says. “I have a complaint. How come all the women have to wear their hair either in a bun or under a scarf or a bonnet? Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Well, that’s how they did things back then,” Ray says. “Can’t rewrite history.”

  “Still,” Sari says, “everyone would look much prettier if I could actually do something with their hair. Maybe some color … or a barrette or two?”

  “Bonnet and buns, baby.”

  Sari grumbles.

  “Anyone else?”

  No one replies. “All right, then. Big day tomorrow. Go home, get some rest. Be here at two P.M. for hair and makeup. Crew, we’ll be setting up the chairs and prepping the stage.”

  Everyone says their good-byes and I get the same kind of pang I did last night with David, that I’ll really miss everyone. It actually physically hurts my stomach. On the sidelines it never hurt. Or if it did, it was a different kind, an easier kind.

  Emily talks nonstop from the time we get home until the time we turn out the lights. I know she’s excited and nervous, but I really just want to be alone. Eventually I put my head under the covers and make a tent, like she does with her math books. It’s peaceful under here, and cozy. I can still hear her, but it’s very muffled. She finally drifts off and I bring my head back out. I think I was about to run out of oxygen anyway.

  I awake in the morning to find Emily and Aunt Bethany standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. “Happy birthday!” they cry out.

  “We thought you were going to sleep your birthday away,” Aunt Bethany says.

  I grunt and curl up on my side. I’m officially thirteen now. Apparently I have twenty-four hours to become a complete person. I wonder how likely that will be to happen if I stay in bed all day.

  Aunt Bethany tugs on the covers in an attempt to turn me over. “You’re not supposed to dread birthdays until you’re my age.”

  “Don’t you want your presents?” Emily asks.

  I open one eye. Emily holds up two gift bags in each hand and swings them back and forth. I open the other eye. She drops one pink bag next to me. “Open mine first,” Emily says. I sit up, dig through the tissue paper, and pull out a framed picture of me, Emily, and Jake sitting on the living room couch the night he came over. I hadn’t even seen anyone snap a picture.

  “To replace the poster,” she explains, grinning. “I have a copy, too.”

  My eyes get watery and I have to blink a few times. “I love it.”

  Aunt Bethany hands me two more bags. “These are from Roger and Ray.” The first holds an issue of Inventors Digest with a card announcing I’ll soon be receiving my first of twelve monthly issues. The other is a copy of The Dictionary of Aussie Slang, 3rd Edition. Easy enough to figure out which gift came from which guy.

  “And last but not least,” Aunt Bethany says, handing me the smallest of the bags. “I took the liberty of putting David’s CD on it, I hope you don’t mind.”

  I turn the bag upside down on the bed, and out plops a brand-new iPod. “I can’t believe it,” I say, picking it up. “This is amazing! Thank you guys.” I reach out and give them both hugs, which feels really great.

  The two of them leave me to get dressed and the first thing I do is turn on the iPod. Soon enough I’ll be turning it over to Mom as a replacement for losing hers. But it’s all mine for at least another month! I recognize the name of the song that David sang at Apple Grove and put that one on. Then I lie back down and close my eyes. It’s just as beautiful as it was then. So much so, that I can swear I feel the earth spinning again below me
.

  Emily and I arrive early at the community center. A bunch of teenage girls are already hanging around outside. I hear them talking about what they’re going to say to Jake when he arrives. At this point, if there’s anyone in town that doesn’t know about the play this afternoon, they’ve been living under a rock.

  Almost everyone is already there when we get to the back room, including Jake! After spending the last few days around him, he almost seems like any regular kid. Almost.

  “How did you sneak by those girls?” I ask.

  “I have skills,” he says with a wink.

  Rory rolls her eyes. “I snuck him in through the fire exit.”

  “Yes,” Jake says, “but I had the skills to follow you.” He sweeps her up and swings her around like he does to Emily in the play. She laughs and holds on tight. I’m not sure they’re going to hold out on that not-dating thing till ninth grade.

  Ray reminds everyone what their jobs are, and shoos us out the door. While the boys are moving the card tables and couches out of the way to set up the chairs, I pull a small table over to the entrance and tape my poster to the front of it. Aunt Bethany gave me a cash box and a calculator, so I’m all set for my job as ticket seller. I pull out the playbills from the cabinets where I’d stored them the day before and pile them up. Even though everything is going according to plan, I’m very glad Opening Night is also Closing Night.

  Big Joe starts putting up the sets, and I go over to watch. I’m amazed at what he’s been able to do in such a short period of time. He even painted a backdrop of a forest. Ray has it organized so that each song takes place on a different part of the stage, and Big Joe is setting up according to a chart that Ray drew. There’s the outside of Tevye’s house, the kitchen and living room, the forest, and a roof for the Fiddler to sit on. Even though Big Joe isn’t the easiest to talk to, I can’t help but ask him how he learned to make all these things.

  “My father taught me everything he knew,” Big Joe says as he crosses the stage to set up another prop. “He did all the plays in town.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I say.

  He nods and lifts the huge wooden key as if it weighed nothing. “This one he made for a secret admirer. He said it was the key to his heart.” He laughs. “Guess my pa had a pretty big heart to make a key that big!”

  Aw, Big Joe really is a softy.

  His voice turns gruff again when he says, “Don’t got no place for these two,” and hands me the duck-headed cane, and the small purple bottle.

  “Really? They’re not on the prop list from the script?”

  He shakes his head and points to the poster board. I scan the list of which props go in which scene. The basket, candlestick holder, and wine bottle go on the kitchen table, the knife on the counter, the gray blanket is for a picnic scene. Tevye carries the Bible, the necklace is on a few different sisters in different songs, Tevye’s wife wears the shawl, and the giant key is in the barn. But nothing about a cane or a purple bottle anywhere.

  “I guess I’ll hold on to them,” I tell him. He shrugs and gets back to work. I stash them behind the ticket table to deal with later.

  I go to the back room to see if anyone needs my help and have to try really hard not to laugh. The cast has changed into their costumes, with their hair and makeup done. All the girls look like how I did when I left Bettie’s house that first day. Even the boys are wearing blush and black eyeliner.

  “It’s a theatre thing,” David says when he sees my expression. He puffs out his chest and says, “I think I look very dashing for a milkman.”

  “Yeah, the eyeliner really makes your eyes pop.”

  “I’m actually afraid to look in a mirror,” he says.

  I stand back to admire him from afar. “I do like the suit and the floppy hat.”

  He tilts the hat a bit. “It was my dad’s. My mom gave it to me last night.”

  “It looks really nice. Very Russian milkman-ish, while still being stylish.”

  “How do I look?” Rory says, joining us.

  “Um, did they have green eye shadow in Russia in 1905?”

  “I talked her out of the glitter,” she says, “so be grateful for that. If I break out in hives, you’ll have to toss me my allergy medication!”

  Emily joins us, all dressed in her top and long skirt, a blue and white bonnet covering the top of her head. Annabelle had to hem the skirt a little, but everything else was in Grandma’s trunk from when she played Tzeitel. They really could be twins. Emily keeps pushing the bonnet back up on her forehead.

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  “Like the whole town is about to watch me sing and dance with Jake Harrison, which can’t possibly be true because how crazy does that sound?”

  “You’ll be great,” I assure her. “And it’ll be over before you know it.”

  “Six minutes and sixteen seconds,” she says. “That’s how long my two big numbers are, combined. The rest of the time I’m just in the background.” She wanders off, pushing her bonnet away from her eyes and whispering “Six and sixteen, six and sixteen.”

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” I ask Rory. “You know her a lot better than I do.”

  “I think she’ll be great,” Rory says. “I may know her longer, but I’ve been trying to get her to dance ever since I saw how good she was. It was the very first night I babysat for her. Remind me to tell you that story one day; she was such a little sneak. Anyway, she’d never do it for me. And you’ve got her starring in a musical! Hey, you should really go sell tickets now before they bust down the door.”

  “Break a leg,” I tell her.

  “I just might,” she says. “Go!”

  Rory was right, people are pressed up against the doors outside, waiting to be let in. And it’s not just girls wanting to see Jake. People of all ages are out there, many with cash in their hands. Before I can even sit behind the ticket table, people begin thrusting money at me. No one complains about the price. Some people don’t even ask for change from a ten-dollar bill because they’re in too much of a hurry to get a seat! I guess six dollars to see a movie star is pretty low. I could have asked for double. Or triple!

  The cash box fills up quickly and I have to rummage through the Lost and Found cabinet to find an old gym bag to stuff the money into. Dollar bills are flying everywhere as I hurry to give people their change. David comes out to help, which is really nice of him considering he has the biggest role in the play and is wearing eyeliner.

  Eventually the room is filled to capacity, with people standing in the back and kids sitting cross-legged in the front of the stage. Angelina has somehow managed to plant herself right in the front row, just as she said she would, even though I definitely didn’t see her come through the ticket line. I join the rest of the crew off to the side of the stage where Ray had been smart enough to reserve seats. Aunt Bethany and Uncle Roger are right behind me. It’s warm in the room now, and a lot of people are fanning themselves with their playbills.

  Ray — who in slacks and a button-down shirt is more dressed up than I’ve ever seen him — has to shout three times before the crowd quiets down. “Welcome, everyone, to the new Willow Falls Community Playhouse production of Fiddler on the Roof!”

  The crowd cheers. I’m just grateful he called the play by the right name. He continues, “Thank you for coming out today and supporting the arts here in Willow Falls. We hope you enjoy the show!”

  All I can think is, in half an hour, this will be over. I’ll be a whole and complete person, or whatever Angelina said I needed to be before the end of my birthday. But then the curtain parts. David stands center stage, in his black suit and floppy hat and milkman’s jug, and all other thoughts fly out of my head.

  He takes a deep breath and says the only line in our version of the play that isn’t part of a song: “Without our traditions, our lives would be as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!” The curtain parts farther, to reveal Bucky Whitehead sitting on the fake roof. As Bucky star
ts playing his violin, David starts belting out “Tradition! Tradition! Tradition!” And the crowd starts clapping and hollering. They quiet down just as quickly, though, when they realize we never considered the whole need-for-microphones thing.

  “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” is up next, with Emily, Rory, and Stephanie as the three oldest daughters. Emily glides across the stage, her voice pure and strong. Rory and Stephanie, well, they’re not really singing, so much as talking the words. And the dancing is more like, well, walking. Grace and Bailey run around after the older sisters trying to be silly and get their attention. The lyrics are pretty funny as the sisters basically beg the matchmaker not to match them with a total loser, and the audience is cracking up. At one point Stephanie completely forgets the choreography and does a cartwheel followed by a back handspring instead. Mrs. Grayson drops her head into her hands, but the audience cheers! By the end, Emily’s bonnet has fallen over her eyes so many times that she winds up ripping it off and tossing it inside the black trunk.

  David then appears in the make-believe barn and launches into “If I Were a Rich Man.” At this point, everyone in the audience over fifty starts singing along with him. Seriously, like, two hundred people are singing and David just goes right along with it.

  At the end, Connor joins him on stage. He’s wearing a fake beard and a pillow stuffed under his shirt. He’s supposed to look rich, so he’s wearing a fancy suit that used to belong to Mrs. Grayson’s late husband. He and David sing “To Life,” which is a really rowdy, upbeat song. They totally ham it up, tripping over each other, throwing up their arms, yelling, “L’chiam! To life!” At the end they fall to the ground, kicking up their legs, and get a standing ovation. They exit the stage, bowing repeatedly. The curtains close. When they reopen, Jake Harrison is standing in front of the forest with Emily by his side. The audience jumps back up and goes crazy, whistling and yelling. Ray has to come out and shush them so the song can begin.

  Jake does an amazing job with “Miracle of Miracles,” swinging Emily around as they weave in and out of fake trees, singing with such love and confidence. It’s easy to see why he’s a star. Bucky’s violin sings right along to Jake’s words. When it comes time for the backward somersault, Jake gets stuck in exactly the same place as in our living room, and Emily gleefully pushes him the rest of the way over. The audience chants for an encore, but there are still four more songs left to go. Leo is really good in his number with Stephanie, and Annabelle is funny as the gossipy matchmaker. Rory and Vinnie — who I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to at all — pretty much give up in the middle and make up their own lyrics. In the last song, Amanda’s shawl gets tangled on a fake tree branch and David has to untangle her before she chokes. Other than that, the play is a rousing success!