11 Before 12

by Lisa Greenwald

  But then all through dinner, the only thing I’m thinking about is Ari and that awkward comment about Tyler. She thinks I fixate on things. I guess she’s right. But I thought she sort of accepted that about me. Maybe even embraced it. I’m her best friend. “What’s wrong with her?” Ryan asks my mom, waving his spoon in my direction.

  “Ryan,” my mom whispers. “Leave her be. Leave her be.”

  “Sheesh. I’m just asking. She hasn’t said a single word this whole meal. Not even asking for another dumpling.”

  “Pass the dumplings, please,” I say.

  But instead of doing that, Ryan pops the last one in his mouth. “Should’ve spoken up sooner,” he says, and laughs.

  I don’t respond. He’s looking for a fight.

  And I won’t give it to him.

  TWENTY-ONE

  IT TAKES ABOUT A WEEK to coordinate it, but Ari and I finally go to the yoga class at the studio where Marie goes. Marie was supposed to go with us, but she got stomach flu at the last minute. I know this is the meanest thing in the world to say, but I’m happy about it. I’m happy that Marie is hovering over her toilet, puking her guts out while we are on our way to yoga. I’m horrible. I know I am.

  But the thing is, Ari and I need some time together, just the two of us. We can get things back to the way they used to be. I know we can. We need to be just us, 100 percent in it and focused on our friendship, with no distractions.

  “This doesn’t seem like a beginner’s class,” I whisper to Ari when we’re in downward dog.

  “It’s actually mixed levels,” she whispers back. “Sorry.”

  I thought that yoga was one of those things where you only have to do what you’re comfortable with and what you’re, like, physically able to do. But my wrists hurt, and having my butt high in the air like this is making me dizzy for some reason, like it’s making my equilibrium (is that even a thing?) all unbalanced.

  It’s ten minutes into the class and I already feel worse about myself than I was feeling before.

  I wasn’t sure that was possible, but this is definitely something I thought I’d hate, that I am actually hating.

  “Just try,” Ari says, when she sees me hanging out in child’s pose for way too long.

  “I am,” I defend. I try to do that pose where one leg is high in the air and you’re supposed to lean all of your weight on one arm. I slip and fall flat on my face, literally ripping a piece of the yoga mat off with my fingernail.

  I burst out laughing, unable to control it. And that’s when Ari starts laughing, too. Soon, we’re both flat on our stomachs, laughing hysterically.

  “Okay, so I think you’re still as uncoordinated as you were when we had to learn those African dance moves in gym last year,” Ari says, trying hard to get the words out through her laughter.

  I laugh. “Yeah, my coordination has not improved. Sorry,” I say, when the teacher comes over to us.

  “Girls,” she says. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. But please do try and focus.”

  “Focusing,” Ari says.

  For the rest of the class, I really try and do everything and follow the teacher’s instructions. At least I think I mastered happy baby, so that’s something.

  And I’m grateful that we put this on our list. Maybe we won’t become amazing at yoga or anything, but at least Ari and I laughed together. For that moment, it felt like things were the way they used to be.

  Back to BFF. During yoga, at least.

  After class, Ari’s mom drives us back to her house.

  “I don’t think we’re masters at yoga yet,” I announce when we’re comfy on the beanbag chairs in Ari’s room. “But it’s a start. Can we check it off our list and move on to the next thing?”

  “I guess.”

  “Victory ritual!” I say. I stand up and grab her hand, so she does, too.

  Jump in the air. High-five. Hug.

  Sometimes we shorten it and call it the JHH. It helps us remember it.

  Ari sits back down and stays quiet for a minute. “I know we just did the JHH, but now I’m thinking—we only did yoga once. Does that count? Should we have checked it off already?”

  “I think so. We never said we had to be yogis.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Okay, that’s true, but the point was that we did one thing we didn’t like, and maybe we didn’t give it enough of a chance.”

  “I guess we could always go to one other class,” I say, resigned.

  Ari leans back in her chair. “Marie really likes her class.”

  “You’re obsessed with Marie’s yoga class!” I laugh, mostly kidding, but a tiny bit serious.

  “I’m obsessed? Yeah, right!” She rolls her eyes again. Did she always roll her eyes this much and I’m just noticing it now? “What should we move on to, then?”

  “I’m kind of hoping for the first kiss thing,” I announce. “They talk about it at lunch a lot. Ya know?”

  “Well, I’m, like, in the exact middle of the table lately, so I usually end up in conversations with Marie and the girls on her end,” Ari reminds me. “And they don’t talk about it every day. So I don’t really know. Why are you guys so obsessed with it anyway? Because of June and Cami?”

  Her question stings even though she probably didn’t mean it to come out the way it did. Also, wasn’t Ari the one discussing first kisses with Marie just the other day?

  The thing is, Ari’s pretty much part of Marie’s group now. Sydney, Kira, Lizzie, and the one they just call M.W.—I don’t even know what it stands for. And June and Cami and the quiet girl, Saara, are really the only new friends I’ve made.

  She doesn’t need to insult them.

  But maybe she’s jealous. June’s probably the prettiest girl in the grade, and she does like to tell people how she had her first kiss this past summer at camp. So I guess that might get annoying to hear over and over again.

  And Cami’s bubbly and chatty and pretty much friends with everyone in the grade already. I see how that can be intimidating.

  “I guess,” I say. “But I’m hoping I can kiss someone, too, pretty soon, anyway. It is on our list. And we don’t have tons of time left. We have, like, a month and a half.”

  Ari doesn’t say anything.

  “Why? You don’t want to?”

  “No, I do.” She leans forward. “I’m just not obsessed with it.”

  I pretend to scratch an itch on the side of my eye, but what I’m really doing is forcing the tears to stay where they are. This works sometimes. I do it when my dad calls. I always cry when I talk to him. Every single time. I should be used to the fact that he moved out, that he lives in Arizona for work now, and that he doesn’t want to be married to my mom anymore.

  But I’m not used to it. I don’t think I’ll ever be used to it.

  “So our birthday party,” Ari says, changing the subject. “I feel like we need to send out invitations soon. Paper or online?”

  “Def online,” I say, stretching out my legs. “We shouldn’t waste paper, and I think people will respond quicker if they get an email.”

  Ari nods. “Yeah, you’re right. And you still think we should have it here?”

  “Definitely,” I say. “Easy peasy, we’ll order pizzas, and get soda and stuff, and we can have it in your backyard if it’s nice, or in the basement—”

  “Okay, but the guest list.” Ari stands up, and turns on her ceiling fan. “That’s gonna be tricky. Ya know?”

  “Yeah,” I reply, after a deep breath. I adjust my legs on the beanbag chair so they don’t fall asleep. “You make a list of who you think we should invite, and I will, too, and then we’ll compare and finalize. But—we still have tons to do before the party. So what should our next list item be?”

  I pick the list up off of Ari’s desk, and we look it over together.

  Eleven Fabulous Things to Make Us Even More

  AMAZING Before We Turn Twelve

  1. Make a guy friend. ✓

  2. Do a Whole Me Ma
keover.

  3. Get on TV for something cool we’ve done (not because we got hit by a bus).

  4. Help humanity.

  5. Highlight our hair. ✓

  6. Do something we think we’ll hate. ✓

  7. Fulfill lifelong dream to kayak at night to the little island across the lake. (First step, find a kayak.)

  8. Kiss a boy.

  9. Get detention.

  10. Have a mature discussion with our moms about their flaws.

  11. Sabotage Ryan. ✓

  “Well, here’s the thing,” Ari starts, leaning forward on her beanbag chair, and I get the sense that something bad is coming. “The help-humanity thing. We haven’t really decided on what that’s going to be.”

  “Yeah, I feel like the temple thing will be too awkward,” I explain. “I don’t want to be around Jules and all those girls. And it needs to be something really important. Like cleaning up an abandoned park, or collecting donations for moms who can’t afford diapers, or starting a new food pantry.”

  My heart starts beating faster and faster. I’m more heated up about this than I expected to be.

  “I want to invite Marie to do the list with us,” Ari says like it’s no big deal.

  “What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “I want to invite Marie to do the list with us,” she repeats.

  “Why?” I stumble to get the word out.

  “To help humanity,” she explains, talking with her hands like she’s making a speech. “She doesn’t have any friends. I know it seems like she’s part of that group that sits at the end of the lunch table. She’s not. She tries so hard. Too hard. They all find her annoying. No one likes her. She just sits there because her mom and Sydney’s mom are first cousins.”

  She pauses for a moment. My throat stings.

  Helping Marie doesn’t feel big and important.

  “This could help her,” she goes on. “We could help her become less annoying to other people.”

  “Um, I don’t think we can really do that.”

  Ari shakes her head. “I just feel like we can help her with social skills, and that could have a ripple effect. I mean, it’s like a major personality makeover for her. Did you know that before me, she had never talked on the phone to anyone? I mean—”

  “Okay. Stop.” I can’t hear any more about Miss Sob Story Marie. “I feel bad about that,” I mumble. “But the list was our thing.”

  “Don’t be so exclusive,” Ari says, looking at the mini figurines on her windowsill instead of looking at me. “You need to think of other people besides yourself sometimes, Kaylan!”

  I get up to go to the bathroom, but I don’t really need to pee. When I’m in there, with the door closed, I put my head against the cool tiled wall and sob. I sob quietly so Ari can’t hear me. And when I stop, I rub my eyes with cold water to remove the redness.

  Maybe helping Marie is helping humanity, but in a very, very loose way. In such a loose way that I’m not even sure it counts. And if helping humanity is hurting your BFF in the process, then is it really even helping humanity at all?

  There’s one thing I know for sure, though: Ari and I are not back to being BFF.

  Not at all.

  Ari and I started this list together. It was our thing. She was my BFF. I know people say you can have more than one best friend, but you can’t. It just doesn’t work. Marie is snatching Ari away from me, and Ari’s just going along with it. I don’t care that she’s annoying and she’s never talked to anyone on the phone. It’s not our job to fix her.

  “Ya know what?” I say, as I leave the bathroom. “Do the list with Marie. Go to yoga with Marie. Eat lunch with Marie. Do everything with her. Be Marie’s BFF. I’m done.”

  “Fine,” Ari screams. “At least she doesn’t spend every second talking about a dumb boy!”

  I storm down the stairs and out of Ari’s house and I run all the way home. I glance behind me a few times to see if Ari follows me. She doesn’t. Not that I wanted her to. Okay, maybe I did a little bit.

  But just a little bit.

  TWENTY-TWO

  IT’S BEEN A WEEK WITHOUT Ari and life without her is pretty boring.

  I sit at the end of the lunch table with June, Cami, Saara, and the straggler girls who sometimes sit there when they’re not at extra help. They’re June’s friends, and I know they’re not my friends. Not yet, anyway. But I’m okay with that.

  The Whatevers, is how I think of them. They’re nice and all. But since I’m not really part of the group, they’re just whatever to me.

  After the friend drama I had in fourth grade and now this Ari drama, I think I’m okay with being a loner for a little while. My plan is to be that cool, aloof girl. The one everyone wonders about.

  I guess I’ve been trying to figure out for a while what kind of middle school girl I was going to be. That was the point of the Whole Me Makeover, so I might as well lean into it.

  I’ll try the loner thing for a while and see how it works.

  I’m walking to science when I see Mrs. Bellinsky hanging up the audition sheet for the fall talent show. I look closely and see that the date of the show is my twelfth birthday.

  November 1.

  It’s a sign. A sign that I have to sign up. This talent show was basically made for me. Maybe it’s part of the Whole Me Makeover, and maybe it’s going to be recorded for the local news and will help me get on TV!

  It’s on my birthday. My twelfth birthday. The culmination of the entire list!

  Okay, and I’ll be honest—after Mrs. Bellinsky hung it up, I also saw that Tyler was signing up. That was also a sign. I mean, here I am: without a best friend, lonely, and hopelessly in love with Tyler. Then there’s a fall talent show that just so happens to take place on my twelfth birthday, and the boy I’m obsessed with is signing up for it.

  Of course I need to participate.

  I make a mental note that if we still have our joint birthday party, it has to be on Ari’s birthday. It can’t be the same night as the talent show—no one would come!

  There’s just one problem—I’m not sure what my talent is. Luckily I have a few weeks to figure that out. This is just the sign-up sheet. It’s still a while away.

  I may have sabotaged Ryan’s chances for making the jam band, but he still plays guitar. Maybe he can help me learn? Doubtful. He hates me. I used to be able to juggle. And now that I have all this time, I can really practice.

  I’m just not sure if juggling is seen as dorky or cool. Or is it dorky-cool? I’ll have to take a survey at lunch.

  As soon as I get to science, I sit down and turn toward Lizzie. “Are you doing the talent show?” I ask her.

  She raises a corner of her mouth. “Nah,” she replies. “I’m not really a talent show kind of gal.”

  I laugh. “Lizzie Lab Partner! Of course you are!”

  “You’re still calling me that?” She taps her pencil against my forehead. “No, really. I’m not a talent show person. I’ll come cheer people on, though.”

  I sit back in my seat and face forward as soon as we see Mr. Paino coming in. “Should I try out?” I whisper to her, even though I already know my decision.

  “Totally!” she whispers. “Please do it!”

  “Any ideas for my act?” I ask her, as Mr. Paino writes on the dry-erase board.

  “Not a clue,” she replies, scribbling down the notes.

  After school, I call Jason and hope that he can help me decide on an act. He’s my trusty resource for all things creative.

  “I heard about you and Arianna,” he says as soon as he answers.

  “You did?” I wasn’t going to tell him. I figured he didn’t want to hear about our girl drama. And I didn’t want him to feel like he had to pick sides.

  He sighs into the phone. “Yeah. Well, okay. I overheard Arianna talking about it to that girl Marie. They were on Ari’s front porch after school today.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

>   “That can’t be it, Jason.” Sometimes I think this guy friend thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He seems so dense. Like he doesn’t understand that he needs to give all the information, not just a sliver. It’s like eating the icing and forgetting about the rest of the cupcake.

  “I don’t really remember. . . .”

  “Well, was Ari crying?”

  He laughs a little. “Sorry. Um . . .”

  “Did she seem really upset?”

  “I guess? Maybe. I mean, she wasn’t like screaming or anything. I’ll listen better next time,” he says, resigned. “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” I sink back into the couch. “I’m just going through a rough time right now. That’s all.”

  “I hear you,” he says. “Want me to come over?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, why not? We can do homework together.”

  As much as I’d love some company, my stomach flips when he suggests it. We’ve never hung out just the two of us before.

  Ryan will definitely make fun of me for having a boy over. Also, I’m not even sure I’m allowed to, even though Jason is a friend. And third of all, what if Tyler sees? He might think I have a boyfriend and then I’ll have zero chance of kissing him. Not that I really have a chance anyway. At least I don’t think I do.

  “Kaylan?” Jason says, and I realize I’ve been quiet for a really long time.

  “Hi. Um, yeah, I’d love to do homework, but I can’t because my mom is on her way home and we’re, um, going shopping.” I say it all so fast that I’m not even totally sure what I said.

  “Oh. Okay. No biggie.” He stops talking and I can hear him crunching potato chips or maybe pretzels. “I gotta go, though. This science lab seems hard.”

  “Okay. Good luck. Bye.”

  When we’re off the phone I feel as if I’ve let something go, like a balloon that I didn’t care about, lazily tied to a beach chair. But as soon as it’s floating in the air, I really miss it.

  It would have been nice to have Jason here doing homework with me. Because the truth is, my mom has a staff meeting and she won’t be home for dinner. And Tyler and Ryan picked up tacos and they’re eating in Ryan’s room.