11 Birthdays

  11 Birthdays

  BY WENDY MASS

  TO ZOE AND SAGE, WITH LOVE

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  11 YEARS AGO — WILLOW FALLS

  BIRTHING CENTER

  The oddest thing about Angelina D’Angelo was that no one could remember a time when she didn’t live in Willow Falls. The oldest man in town, Bucky Whitehead, swears Angelina was an old lady when HE was a boy. But when questioned, Angelina just smiled. The person asking would get so distracted by watching the duck-shaped birthmark wiggle on her cheek, they would forget their question altogether.

  Angelina, small and swift, was moving even faster than usual because today was the day she had been waiting for. She had been waiting a LONG time. Her volunteer badge securely fastened to her hip pocket, she whooshed down the hall of the Willow Falls Birthing Center and stopped short in front of the nursery window. Pressing her hands against the cool glass, she searched the faces of the newborn babies until she found the two she was looking for.

  First, the boy. Pink cheeks, a mop of black hair, clenched fists. And then, in the next bassinet, the girl. A thin coating of blond fuzz on her head, a sweet smile on her lips. Angelina knew it was just gas, but that smile told her a lot. It told her all she needed to know. She stepped back and waited. A few minutes later, the two mothers appeared from different directions, wheeled up to the window by their happily exhausted husbands. The younger of the two women had her dark curly hair pulled into a loose ponytail. The other, a blonde with a fashionable bob, had already changed out of her hospital gown into a running suit. The men nodded a polite hello to each other.

  No one noticed Angelina. She had perfected the art of blending into the background.

  “Which one’s yours?” the dark-haired woman asked.

  “That one,” the blonde said, pointing to the little girl who was rubbing her closed eyes. “She’s our second. We have a two-year-old at home.”

  The other woman smiled. “She’s precious.” Then she pointed to the boy who was now happily sucking his fist. “That one’s ours. He’s our first. But we want lots more kids, right, honey?” She reached up for her husband’s hand and squeezed it.

  “Let’s see how this one goes,” he said, laughing kindly.

  A soft, strong voice from behind them asked, “What have you decided to name them?”

  The four craned their necks around, surprised to see Angelina. They had thought they were alone in the hallway.

  The boy’s mother replied, “Leo. After my husband’s great-grandfather, Leonard Fitzpatrick.”

  The girl’s mother said, “That’s funny, we’re naming Amanda after my husband’s great-grandmother, Amanda Ellerby.”

  The men were suddenly struck with an uneasy feeling, like they were remembering something out of a storybook someone read to them when they were children. But the old woman was talking again, so they shook off the feeling.

  “Being born on the same day is very special. I believe Amanda and Leo will be the best of friends.” She said this very confidently. “You will be sure to celebrate this day together every year, no? The day of their birth?”

  “Um, sure,” the mothers promised, smiling graciously at each other. Neither really meant it.

  “A very wise decision,” Angelina said with a quick nod. “Blessings to all of you.”

  A moment later she whooshed back down the hall and out of sight.

  “That was strange,” said Amanda’s father.

  “Angelina’s an odd one,” said Leo’s father. “But I’m sure you know that. She’s lived in Willow Falls forever.”

  Amanda’s parents shook their heads. “We just moved to town a few months ago,” her mom said.

  “My family used to live here,” Amanda’s dad added, “but my parents moved away before I was born. We really don’t know anyone.”

  So Leo’s parents told them the important things, like where to find the best pizza, who offered the best prices on diapers. And when they parted, neither expected to see the other again.

  They were wrong.

  Chapter Two

  TEN YEARS AGO — MR. MCALLISTER’S

  MAGIC CASTLE BIRTHDAY PARTY PALACE

  Amanda crawled over to the inflatable white castle that took up half the room and poked it with her finger. She giggled and poked it again. She liked it here. The air smelled like cake. She looked around for her parents. Her father was lifting her older sister, Kylie, onto a big, stuffed pony. Her mother was talking to the man behind the counter, who wore a funny floppy hat.

  “What do you mean we have to share the birthday room?” Amanda’s mother said. “Please check again. I booked my daughter’s party months ago.”

  The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Mistakes happen. The room is plenty big enough to share. You probably won’t even notice the other party.”

  Amanda’s mother sighed and drummed her manicured nails on the counter. “Fine. Who’s the other party?”

  The man pointed toward the door, which was swinging open with a jingle of bells. “Here they come now.”

  A dark-haired woman in a long skirt strolled through the door. The little boy perched on her hip clutched a purple bear. Amanda tilted her head to see both the boy and the bear better. The boy squirmed, and his mother set him down on the floor while she went up to the counter.

  Amanda’s mother’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “You?”

  “You?” the boy’s mother echoed, recognition glimmering in her eyes.

  Then they laughed.

  “Is that Leo?” Amanda’s mother asked, pointing at the little boy who was now crawling toward the castle.

  The other woman nodded and then searched the room until she found Amanda. “And that lovely little girl must be Amanda.”

  Amanda’s mother nodded. They looked back at each other and laughed again. “I guess we’re celebrating their birthday together after all!” Leo’s mother said, grinning widely.

  “Sure looks like it,” said Amanda’s.

  As Leo crawled toward Amanda, he dragged his bear on the ground. Amanda watched, curious. Her mother would never let her bring her teddy out in public. Too many germs. Not that Amanda knew what germs were, only that they were bad to put in your mouth.

  When Leo reached the castle they stared at each other. Amanda was used to being around other babies at the park and during storytime at the library. But she usually stayed far away from them. Leo felt different somehow. She reached out and tugged on one of the boy’s curls. He laughed and handed her his bear. As a younger sister, Amanda wasn’t used to people simply handing over their toys. She took it, but cautiously. They sat there, watching each other, until their mothers came over and started fussing over them. It wasn’t until later, after cake had been eaten and songs sang, that the two of them were able to escape. They crawled toward each other, and then with some unspoken understanding, both pushed off t
he floor with their hands and stood. Four parents and many bemused party guests watched as the two babies took their very first steps, crashed into each other, and fell to the floor laughing.

  Outside, a small old woman approached the glass window. Behind the counter, Mr. McAllister of the Magic Castle Birthday Party Palace turned and winked at her. She gave a quick, satisfied nod and whooshed away. Yes, everything was going exactly according to plan.

  Chapter Three

  THE EVENING BEFORE AMANDA AND

  LEO’S 11TH BIRTHDAY

  “But what if I land on my head?” I ask. “And then, you know, all the other body parts?” An image fills my head of broken bones and scraped knees for my party tomorrow. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

  “You won’t fall this time,” promises Stephanie. “You need to get this move down before tryouts tomorrow. C’mon, I’m your best friend. I wouldn’t let you fall.”

  “If you were really my best friend,” I say with a pout, “you wouldn’t make me try out at all.” I’m stalling and she knows it. What I really want to say is, If you’re my best friend you’d tell me to try out for the marching band instead. But we both know that would never happen. Besides the fact that marching band is considered uncool, I’ve never played my drums anywhere other than my own basement.

  “C’mon, Amanda. I keep telling you. If we want to hang out with Mena and Heather and Jess, we need to be on the team. And to be on the team you need to be able to do a back handspring. Without falling.”

  I stare across my backyard, willing my mom to come out and tell us it’s getting late and Stephanie has to go home. But she’s not back from work yet. I can’t count on Dad, either. He’s inside cleaning up from our usual mom-working-late dinner — macaroni and cheese with salami melted on top. Even if he was out here, he’d see my frantic look and just smile and wave. Dad’s a good guy. He just doesn’t pick up on a lot of things. Kylie is my only hope, which means I’m doomed. She and a preppy boy named Dustin from her science class are on the back porch trying to turn lead into gold or some other sciency thing for their final project of the year. Kylie’s twirling her long blond hair around her finger, which is her way of flirting, but Dustin doesn’t seem to notice. He’s the breed of boy whose clothes actually match, and whose hair looks like it was professionally cut in a salon. He doesn’t look like he’s climbed a tree or built a fort in his entire life. In an alternate universe where my older sister actually paid any sort of attention to me, she might see that I’m scared and come to my rescue. Alas, this is not an alternate universe and she’s more interested in him than me.

  I stall some more. “What if I don’t want to be friends with Mena and Heather and Jess?”

  Stephanie shakes her head, unwilling to even answer. I sigh. Okay, she’s got me. Of course I want to be friends with them. They’re the most popular girls in the fifth grade. And if we make the team, our status in sixth grade will be secure.

  Out of ideas, I point to my midsection. “I think my center of gravity is too low. It might be physically impossible for me to do a back handspring.”

  Stephanie tilts her head at me. “Your what is what?”

  I open my mouth to explain, but she waves it away. “Don’t make me count to three. At three I go over and tell Kylie you stole her favorite red sweater last winter and left it on the school bus.”

  “Okay, okay!” With a final glance behind me to make sure the mat is in place, I take a deep breath, raise my arms next to my head, then swing them down really fast. Bending my knees, I spring backward before I can change my mind. In a panic, I try to remember what Stephanie taught me. Lean back, tighten abs, keep arms locked, look for a place to land my hands. But time seems to accelerate faster than its normal speed and before I know it, I’m crumpled in a heap, the freshly mown grass tickling the back of my neck. Somehow I’m a good two feet away from the mat. Dazed, I stare up at the dusky sky. “How’d I do?”

  Stephanie sits down next to me, tucking her legs underneath her. “Well, you didn’t break anything, so there’s that.”

  “Okay, girls,” my mother calls from the back door, waving us inside. “Time to call it a night. Amanda, you need to come set up for the party.”

  Sure, now she saves me. Couldn’t she have come home five minutes earlier? Stephanie helps me up, and I dust the dirt and grass off my clothes. I have one more day to get this back handspring down. It doesn’t look promising, but I really don’t want to disappoint Stephanie. This last year would have been so much harder if it hadn’t been for her. We walk around the side of the house to the driveway, where she left her bike propped against the fence.

  “I’ll keep working on it tonight,” I say as she straps on her helmet. “I promise.”

  She gives me a look that says she’s unconvinced. “Why don’t you ask Kylie to spot you?”

  I shake my head, frowning. “She’s too busy trying to get her science partner to ask her to the Seventh Grade Fling. I don’t think she’s having any luck, though.”

  “You wouldn’t think someone as pretty as your sister would have any trouble getting a guy.”

  I wouldn’t have thought so, either. People say Kylie and I look a lot alike, but unless I have a major growth spurt, my hair suddenly becomes soft and silky, and my freckles miraculously disappear, I won’t look anything like her when I get to be thirteen.

  “Didn’t that guy Jonathan already ask her? From down the street?”

  “Yeah, but no way would she go with him. He still plays with LEGOs.”

  “Yikes,” Stephanie says, swinging her leg over her seat. “That would bring your sister down, like, five rungs on the coolness ladder. See you tomorrow. Happy early birthday!”

  She pedals off down the driveway. I call after her, “There’s a coolness ladder?”

  She just waves and calls over her shoulder, “Don’t forget to practice!”

  I sigh. I wonder if practicing in my head counts. I can easily picture myself doing a perfect routine. Somehow it comes out differently once gravity gets involved.

  Not wanting to walk by Kylie and Mr. Every Hair in Place, I go through the front door instead. Mom’s overflowing briefcase is leaning against the bottom of the stairs, and I barely avoid tripping over it. Ever since she got promoted to account executive, her briefcase is getting bigger and bigger, and her time at home is getting shorter and shorter. I know she has to work, but I’m pretty tired of mac ‘n’ cheese and salami.

  “There you are, Amanda,” she says, coming around the corner from the kitchen. She’s still wearing her work clothes. Today it’s a gray business suit. She’s holding a tape dispenser in one hand, and a thick roll of red crepe paper in the other. She thrusts the paper at me. “Look what I found for the Red Carpet. Isn’t it perfect?”

  I muster up a smile that I don’t feel. Why did I agree to a Hollywood movie theme?

  “Your father already hung the movie posters and sprinkled the gold stars everywhere, so once we lay down the carpet, all we have to do is put out the paper plates and cups, and blow up the balloons.”

  I follow her down the stairs to the basement where she picks up the stack of RSVPs that have come back.

  “Looks like about fifteen kids are coming,” she says, fanning them out in her hands. “That’s a very respectable number.”

  She means that’s a very respectable number considering I’m not the only person in school having their birthday party tomorrow. One of the cards catches my eye. I pull it from the pile and hold it up to her.

  “Did you mail Leo an invitation?” I ask accusingly.

  She leans over to straighten the Freaky Friday poster that has started to slip down the wall.

  “Mom?”

  “Okay, yes, I invited him. How could I not?” I grit my teeth. “Don’t you remember what he did to me last year?”

  “Of course I do, honey, but maybe, well, maybe you overreacted a bit?”

  I debate either bursting into tears or screaming, neither of which are likely to
make me feel better, and one of which could get me grounded. I count to ten inside my head, then crumple the RSVP and toss it in the trash can. “Let’s just set up for the party, okay?”

  Mom nods. “I hope you’ll still try to enjoy your birthday,” she says, bending down to unroll the red paper. “After all, you only turn eleven once.”

  “Thank God,” I mutter.

  . . . . . . . . . . .

  When the basement looks as “Hollywood” as it’s going to get, I head up to my room. Lying neatly across my bed is the costume Mom picked up for me since she didn’t have time to make one. Apparently Halloween costumes are scarce in June because I’m now staring at a blue-and-white dress, red sparkly shoes, and a wicker picnic basket. I’m Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. I shiver involuntarily. The Wizard of Oz has always given me the creeps. All those flying monkeys. Why couldn’t I be someone like Fiona from the Shrek movies, or better yet, that girl from the Fantastic Four who can turn invisible? If I were invisible, no one would see me duck out of my own party.

  I toss the dress over my desk chair and find myself staring at the bottom drawer. The one that’s been locked for a year. Inside is only one thing — my birthday party photo album. Each year Mom puts one picture in there. I used to love looking at them, but after last year I locked it away. It was just too hard seeing it on my shelf every day. I open the top desk drawer and fish around in the back. I find the small silver key and turn it over in my hand. Before I can think better of it, I unlock the drawer, pull out the album, and plop down on the bed. I run my hands over the yellow cover with the picture of a smiling pastel green frog on it. I don’t know why my mom picked out this frog album, instead of one with oh, anything else on it.

  Here goes nothing.

  1st Birthday: I flip open the cover, and can’t help but smile. There we are, propped up in front of a white inflatable castle. Leo with all his curls (he cuts them off now), and me in my pink party dress, sucking my thumb. It’s hard to believe that if the birthday palace hadn’t been double-booked, Leo and I wouldn’t have celebrated our next ten birthdays together. I used to think we were so lucky, but after what happened last year, I’m not so sure.