11 Before 12

by Lisa Greenwald

  My arms move back and forth like I’m an Olympic swimmer competing for the gold medal. My legs slice the water and it feels crisp and cool. My head turns to the side for a breath and I hear muffled sounds of children cheering and yelling. The water splashes behind me as I kick my feet. I turn my head again and hear the loudspeaker calling out the people who have food ready at the snack bar.

  “Congrats,” Ari says, all out of breath as soon as we touch the pool ledge. “I think that was your fastest yet.”

  “I think so, too,” I say, smiling, as I catch my breath. “I feel like I could eat two full orders of mozzarella sticks after that swim.”

  “Go for it,” Ari says, leaning back against the edge of the pool. “I wonder if those kids over there by the diving board are going to be in any of our classes. They look like they’re our age, right?”

  “Um, I don’t think so. They look older.”

  “You think?” she asks. “Just because they’re wearing itty-bitty bikinis?”

  I glance over there, and crack up, and then look back at Ari. “Yeah, my mom would never let me wear that. Do you see how small the boobage areas are?”

  Ari laughs so hard she has to dunk underwater for a second to calm down. “I actually have a bikini like that. My cousin gave it to me for a birthday gift, random. But I never wear it.”

  I stare at the Bikini Boob Girls and try to figure out their deal—boys and girls together like it’s totally normal, and they’re all best friends and hang out all the time.

  Ari’s still cracking up. “Boobage area! Is boobage a real word?”

  I shrug. “No clue. It should be, right? Let’s just say it a lot, and it’ll become a thing.”

  “Boobage,” I whisper to her.

  “Boobage,” she whispers back.

  “We can’t say it without laughing!”

  “I know,” she shrieks.

  We flick water at each other, and then flip over to practice our one-armed hand stands.

  So what if this stuff is babyish? We’re still having fun. And at least the boobage areas of our bathing suits actually cover our, um, boobage.

  If it were up to me, we’d skip middle school and live at the pool forever.

  TWO

  WE’RE WALKING OVER TO THE snack bar to get lunch when we hear someone say, “Ari! Hey! Over here.”

  We look all around, not knowing where the voice is coming from, and finally we find the person. She’s so tall, with the longest legs I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t even have her hair pulled back; it’s just blowing in the breeze, but not at all in her face. And she doesn’t even look sweaty! We walk over to the section of lounge chairs in the sun, near the deep end.

  “Oh my God, hi,” Ari says, leaning in to give the tall girl a hug.

  “Ari, you look soooo tan,” the girl says. “B. T. Dubs, Tamar said she was coming later.”

  B. T. Dubs? Ew.

  “Oh cool.” Ari smiles. “I haven’t talked to her since the end of Hebrew, when she went away to camp. How was your summer?”

  Ari’s voice always gets super-high-pitched when she’s excited about something, and now it’s just, like, normal. I’m getting the sense that Tamari really is over. Good.

  “It was amazing,” the girl replies. “I was on this teen tour with Phoebe, you know her, right? We had the best time.”

  I’m just standing there, feeling really stupid because I don’t know this girl, and Ari hasn’t introduced me. I shift my weight from my left foot to my right foot and then back again. Should I go to the snack bar and meet Ari there? I don’t want to interrupt, but I also don’t want to keep standing here, like I’m hovering on the side of their conversation.

  “That’s awesome,” Ari says. “Oh, do you know Kaylan?” She turns to me. “Did you guys ever meet? I can’t remember. Jules moved here last year; we’re in Hebrew together.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” I say to the girl. Jules, I guess. “I’m Kaylan, but duh, Ari just said that.”

  “I’m Jules. Also, duh.” She laughs. “You guys go to school together?”

  Ari nods. “Yeah, are you gonna be at West Brookside? I forgot where you said you were going. Doesn’t the end of Hebrew feel like so long ago?”

  Jules plays with the beads on her bathing suit top. “It totally does. I’m not going to West Brookside, I’m going to East, but some of my other friends are going there.” She looks back over at them. “I’ll introduce you.”

  I say, “Introduce us after lunch, okay? I’m staaarrrrviiiiinnnggg.” I try to imitate this line I heard in a movie once, but neither of them get the joke.

  “Oh, uh, sure!” Jules bounces on her toes. “See you guys later.”

  She goes back to her group, and Ari and I keep walking to the snack bar, not saying anything. We overhear Jules say, “Oh, that’s Ari, she’s cool, she’s, like, the only reason Hebrew School is tolerable.”

  Ari and I look at each other then and raise our eyebrows. “That’s, like, a major compliment?” I tell her, trying to imitate Jules’s sing-songy voice.

  “I know, right?” Ari squeals.

  It’s a weird thing to know that your whole life is about to change really soon but have no idea how that change will affect you. I mean, I’ve been going to school with pretty much the same kids since kindergarten, and in just a few weeks I’ll be in this giant school with a bazillion kids I don’t know. Okay, maybe not a bazillion, but lots of new people. It’ll feel like a bazillion. Maybe even a bazillion plus one.

  “Hello, Brookside Pool!” We hear Joey scream through the loudspeaker. “I said, ‘Hello, Brookside Pool!’”

  A few enthusiastic pool goers yell back, “Hello, Joey!”

  “That’s not good enough!” he screams.

  So then we all yell, “Hello, Joey!”

  Ari and I laugh at ourselves and everyone else for how seriously we take the Brookside Pool rituals.

  “Who is ready for Freeeeeeezzzzze Daaaannnncce?” he asks.

  Oh no. Not Freeze Dance. Not now. Not when we’re in such a visible spot between the lifeguards and the snack bar. We were just going to casually get our lunch, and eat on our lounge chairs, and process that whole Jules interaction.

  “Ari!” I talk through clenched teeth. “Our mozzarella sticks are getting rubbery. Come on, run!”

  “We never miss Joey’s Freeze Dance,” she says, putting an arm around me. “Come on! We’re amazing at it. We were reigning champs two years in a row!”

  Joey turns up the music. Because I’m happy, clap along if you feel—Ari and I are dancing, totally getting into it, doing the twist down to the pool pavement and back up. Slapping hands and shimmying all over the place.

  The music stops and we freeze instantly.

  We are Freeze Dance rock stars, and we know it. A bunch of people get called out, but we’re still in. We’ll make it to the final round; I know we will.

  Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth.

  We grab hands and dance around in a circle for the next round. It feels like everything is okay. A blanket of calm spreads over me. And all that matters right then is Ari and me and the pool and Joey’s Freeze Dance competitions.

  “‘Because I’m happy,’” I sing along with the music.

  “Oh my God,” I hear someone say as they pass us. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re, like, way too old to be that into Freeze Dance,” another person says.

  My cheeks flash red. My stomach sinks. I freeze, and not because the music shut off. I look around. They were talking about us.

  I glance in their direction. The bikini boobage girls? They’re whispering behind their hands.

  They were definitely talking about us.

  “Come on! What are you doing?” Ari yells. “We’re still in this! We can win!”

  I wonder if she heard what they said.

  I keep dancing with Ari, but my heart’s not in it. Those bikini boobage girls are watching us, leaning against the wall to the ba
throoms, heads close together, whispering and laughing.

  “Okay, Kaylan Terrel, sorry to say this, but you are out,” Joey says over the microphone. “Good effort. Good effort.”

  I walk over to a lounge chair and pretend I didn’t hear what those girls said, that I didn’t just lose Freeze Dance.

  “Sorry, Kay,” Ari says, all out of breath. “Those eight-year-olds are fierce. We’ll get ’em next time. Come on, let’s go get lunch.”

  “Did you hear what the boobage girls said?” I whisper. “They were totally making fun of us!”

  “They were?” Ari crinkles her nose, looking around to find them. “I didn’t hear that.”

  “They were making fun of us for freeze dancing,” I explain. “We’re too old to be that into Freeze Dance, something like that.”

  She looks over to where they’re sitting and smooths out the sides of her cover-up. “Well, that’s rude. We’re so good at freeze dancing. There’s no age limit for it, obviously.”

  She hesitates, still staring at them. Finally, she pulls my hand to get me to stand up. “Come on. I don’t want to walk alone to the snack bar, and I’m really hungry now.”

  We walk quietly, trying to avoid eye contact with the boobage girls and their guy friends as we pass them. “Ari, um, I mean, Arianna,” I say under my breath. “We cannot sprint to the entrance when we hear the ice cream truck, okay?”

  She looks at me crooked. “Huh?”

  “If Eddie runs out of the chocolate-dipped pops, we’ll just have to deal.”

  “Um . . . okay.” I’m not sure why it’s taking Ari so long to see where I’m going with this.

  “We can’t make fools of ourselves anymore.” I pause, and wait for that to sink in. “Okay? We need to be normal. Try to be normal.”

  Ari puts her arm around me. “I get what you’re saying, totally. But on the other hand, we gotta be ourselves. Ya know? People who run as fast as we can, get the best ice cream. That shows determination and dedication and athletic prowess and—”

  “Okay.” I laugh. “I get it. I get it.” I wriggle away. I’m too sweaty to be that close to another person, even if she is my best friend.

  THREE

  AFTER MOZZARELLA STICKS AND ice cream, Ari and I lie out on our lounge chairs to soak up some afternoon sun. Even if I hadn’t looked at a calendar, I’d be able to tell that it’s August 1. The weather is screaming August. It’s like a complete change from yesterday, when it felt like it was 300 degrees and 100 percent humidity.

  Today, there’s a breeze. The sun isn’t as strong. It feels like summer isn’t trying anymore, like it’s tired and can’t work so hard at being hot.

  “Do you know when we get our schedules?” Ari asks me.

  “How would I know?” I scoff, not meaning to sound so harsh. My words just come out that way.

  “Maybe Ryan told you or something. . . . I don’t know.” She eye-bulges. “Sheesh. Kaylan, you need to calm down or we’re never going to make it through the next month.”

  I look over at the boobage bikini girls again, and then look away.

  I don’t know how to calm down. That’s the problem.

  When I was waiting at the dentist the other day, I made a list on my phone.

  Things I Am Worried (More Like Freaking Out) About

  1. Changing classrooms for every period

  2. Cafeteria lunch tables where people can sit wherever they want

  3. Remembering my locker combination

  4. Learning how to use a combination lock

  5. Sweat showing through my shorts

  Lists are great because you can check things off and feel like you’re accomplishing stuff. But a worry list is a bad idea—because it makes me worry that I will never stop worrying.

  “I just don’t feel ready for middle school,” I admit. “Maybe I need another year in elementary. Do you think I can stay back?”

  Ari laughs. “Um, you got all As except for a B-plus in gym, and they don’t hold people back for that.” She pauses. “Here’s what we need to do. We need to come up with a plan.” She taps my knee to make sure I’m listening. “Like my name-change thing. Arianna just sounds more middle school than Ari. We need to do more stuff like that.”

  I nod. I like where she’s going with this. It’s hard to stand still, to wait for something big to happen. It’s better to take action; it’s calming to take steps to prepare.

  “Oh my God! Why didn’t I think of this earlier?” I kick my feet against the lounge chair. “A list!”

  “Kaylan, you and your lists . . .” She finishes the last drops of her iced tea.

  “No, for real.” I sit up. “Ari, you know lists always help me! But this is going to be a super-extreme list of only amazingness. The most phenomenal list in the history of lists!”

  Ari leans over the side of her lounge chair a little to get closer to me.

  I continue, “A list of all the awesome stuff we can do to be one hundred percent prepped and ready to rock middle school!”

  “YES! You’re totally right!” Ari claps. “This is going to be the best thing ever. Emergency sleepover tonight. My house.”

  “But Gemma always bugs us. Remember last time, she kept trying to sneak behind the couch and take videos of us?” I remind her. “We won’t be able to focus.”

  “Oh, I already thought about that.” She raises her eyebrows. “Gemma’s sleeping at my grandma’s tonight.”

  I high-five her. It’s not that I don’t love Gemma. I do. She’s super-adorable. I’ve always wished for a little sister, so I sometimes pretend Gemma is mine. But if Arianna and I are having an emergency sleepover to come up with a game plan, we can’t be distracted.

  “Perfect,” I say. “This is going to be great. We have twenty-nine days to really get prepared. And the thing is, while I’m busy getting ready, I won’t be fretting as much, ya know?”

  “Exactly,” Arianna says. “Having a game plan is always the way to go.” She reaches over to get her book out of her bag. “I only have three chapters left and I’m still not totally sure I get what the book’s about.”

  “At least you’re almost done.” I’m putting sunscreen on my leg in the shape of a heart to see if I can get a heart tan line when I feel someone standing over me.

  I look up. It’s Tyler.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I rush to cover the sunscreen heart with my hand. “Hey.”

  “You know if Ryan’s still home?” he asks me. “He didn’t text me back.”

  I shrug. My heart’s pounding but I smile, trying to play it cool. “No clue.”

  “All right. Later.”

  When he’s gone, Ari raises her eyebrows at me.

  “He’s just Ryan’s friend,” I remind her. “He’s slept over like a billion times. I mean, there are pictures of us running through the sprinkler together. I’m only wearing bathing suit bottoms. No top! How insane is that?”

  “What? When?” Arianna gasps.

  “Like a billion years ago, but still.”

  Arianna nods. “I just remembered something, actually. At the end-of-year Hebrew School party, some of the older girls were talking about him.”

  “They were?” My heart sinks for some reason. In a tiny little corner of my brain, I had this weird thought that Tyler was a secret that only I knew. “What were they saying?”

  “I can’t remember. . . . I guess that he was cute?”

  “How can you not remember, Ari?” I continue with the sunscreen hearts, trying to calm down and focus on something other than Tyler or the boobage bikini girls or middle school. “That’s like a major thing!”

  She shakes her head. “You just asked me if he was cute for the first time today!”

  “Right,” I say, taking deep breaths.

  We spend the rest of the afternoon on our lounge chairs. Ari finally finishes her summer reading book, while I pore over an old issue of Seventeen that I found near the snack bar. It claims to have all the info I need on how to “update
my back-to-school style,” but all their suggestions seem like they’ll cost a billion dollars.

  “Ready to go?” Ari asks after we hear the announcement that the snack bar is taking the last orders of the day. “I want to tell my mom you’re sleeping over, clean my room, and pick up some good snacks.”

  “Sounds fabulous, darling.”

  We gather all our stuff and pack our bags. We link arms as we leave the pool and head to our houses.

  We haven’t even done anything yet to really prepare for middle school, but I already feel better. Like I’m on a path to greatness. I’m on my way to figuring everything out.

  FOUR

  WE STOP AT MY HOUSE first since it’s the closer one to the pool.

  “Be over at six,” Ari tells me.

  “Def.”

  We do our signature jump-in-the-air-while-trying-to-high-five thing that we’ve been working on since the end of fourth grade. We’ve pretty much mastered it, but the leg kick at the end could use a little work.

  I walk inside all ready to change out of my bathing suit, take a shower, and get ready for the sleepover—and that’s when I find Ryan and Tyler on the couch, hands in a giant bowl of popcorn, arguing about a video game.

  I’m still in my bathing suit, barely covered up by this old Lake George souvenir towel, and I feel like I’m naked, like I’m standing in a storefront window with no clothes on. My stomach rattles. Oh God, I should’ve changed out of this wet bathing suit and back into my shorts in the locker room at the pool.

  I wrap the towel tighter around my body and run down the hall, to the stairs.

  Tyler turns around. Despite my best efforts to look away, we make eye contact.

  “Guess you found him,” I say.

  Ryan turns around too now. “Who are you talking to?” he asks like I’ve gone crazy.

  “Tyler.” I glare at my brother and then look at Tyler, hoping he’ll defend me. “He was wondering if you were home. But now he’s here. So I guess he found you.”