11 Before 12

by Lisa Greenwald

  “Let’s get ice cream,” I say as soon as I see her.

  “Um,” is all she says at first, standing there, arms folded across her chest. “Kaylan, it’s freezing. It’s supposed to snow again tonight. We never have this much snow in October. It’s like the weather is freaking out or something.”

  “I know.” I stand up, shuffling my weight from foot to foot. “But, ya know,” I stammer. “It’s never too cold for ice cream. Come on. We’ll bundle up.”

  We put on our coats and scarves and mittens and walk to the Ice Cream Shop. That’s what it’s called. It’s like they got so tired from coming up with all the ice cream flavors that they just gave up on giving it a more creative name.

  It’s only around the corner from school, but the walk feels like forever. It’s too cold to talk, and I don’t know what to say, anyway. After you have a fight with your best friend, you can’t just go back to talking like you used to.

  It’s like everything you think to say feels like the wrong thing. And everything I put on my list to talk to her about feels like it’ll make things worse, like nothing is the right thing to start with.

  We get to the Ice Cream Shop, and my cheeks are freezing and chapped, but the rest of me feels warm from the walk. We both get scoops of chocolate Oreo with chocolate sprinkles, and we fill a million mini cups of water because ice cream always makes us thirsty.

  And then we sit across the table from each other.

  I try super-hard to think of the right way to begin this talk, and all that comes to me is what Mrs. Etisof said about being brave and telling someone when they’ve hurt you, and being ready to listen. I think back to the Whole Me Makeover and the list and the doing-something-you-think-you’ll-hate thing. I think this can also fall into that category.

  “I was so sad when we weren’t talking,” I say. “And I missed you so much, but you really hurt my feelings. And I just needed to tell you that.”

  “Go on,” Ari says.

  “The whole thing with Marie. I felt like I was being replaced. And then I called you and you never called back,” I tell her, holding back tears. “And it was like you didn’t need me anymore or miss me or anything.”

  She looks away, toward the ice cream counter, like she can’t really make eye contact with me. “I’m sorry about all of that. I did miss you. But sometimes I feel like you don’t want me to have other friends. And I love you so much, but the more the merrier, ya know?”

  I laugh a little. “I know. I just had to tell you that I was hurt, or it would, like, dig a hole in my heart that would just get bigger and bigger.” I sigh. “I feel relieved that I spoke up and said how I’m feeling.”

  “Good,” Ari says, eating a bite of ice cream. “And can I tell you one other thing?”

  “Of course. What is it?” I ask.

  “Your agita—it gets to be a lot sometimes, ya know?” Ari looks down at the table and then up at me. “I want to help but sometimes I don’t know how to, and it’s just, like, stressful. And also, you’re not the only one who gets agita.”

  I nod, wide-eyed, waiting for her to continue.

  “I get agita, too,” she says. “I know I don’t always talk about it, but I do.”

  “I’m here for you, Ar.” I reach over and touch her arm. “We can just, like, be there for each other, and that’ll make everything seem more manageable. Ya know?”

  “I agree.” She smiles. “Anything else we should talk about?”

  “Um . . .” I wonder if I should bring up the list or the party or first kisses or the Whole Me Makeover. “I’m really sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have other friends.”

  “Apology accepted.” She pauses. “I have big news. Like, really big.”

  “What?” I ask. I feel a little sting of jealousy, like she’s about to tell me something really awesome—like she’s been discovered and she’s going to be in a movie.

  “I kissed someone,” she says.

  My first instinct is to say me too, but I don’t want to steal her thunder or take away her moment.

  A part of me feels sad that we each accomplished this part of the list without the other one’s help. But maybe kissing someone is a one-person operation. Well, two because of the person you’re kissing, but maybe it doesn’t necessarily involve your best friend.

  “Noah?” I ask.

  “What? How do you know?” She pulls back a little.

  “Let’s just say I eavesdropped . . . a bit.” I smile. “But I don’t know anything about him!”

  “Okay, well, he moved here last year, but I just met him. He goes to Hebrew School with me.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, picking a sprinkle off the top of my ice cream.

  “He goes to East Brookside.”

  “Uh-huh . . .” I smile.

  She finishes her spoonful of ice cream and then talks with her hands. “So we had this Hebrew School bowling day, and I know that sounds so dorky, but whatever. It was kind of cool. They had amazing french fries at this bowling alley. It’s, like, twenty minutes away. I’d never been there.” She leans forward onto the table. “So anyway, we were bowling and then Noah and I went to check out the vending machines. And we’ve been friends, like, since the beginning of the year. And, like, I think we knew we both liked each other, but I wasn’t sure.” She pauses.

  “Get to the kissing part!” I yell, and a table of high school girls turns around and starts laughing at us, but I don’t even care.

  “Right! Well, I forgot to tell you that we sat together on the bus ride there, and talked the whole time, just about random stuff,” she says. “And it’s, like, he actually thinks about the stuff we talk about in Hebrew School. He was asking me if I believed in God. On the bus ride!” She laughs. “But it didn’t feel weird, really. It was, like, normal and interesting. So anyway, we went to get some of those gummi snacks out of the vending machine, and we were standing side-by-side, and then he just kissed me! Right there!”

  “That’s amazing, Ari,” I tell her, feeling super-excited about this story, but also like I might explode. I need to tell her my kissing news, too! “Really amazing.”

  She sits back in her chair, and looks around. “That was, like, two weeks ago, and we haven’t kissed again, though. But we haven’t had a chance, really. We can’t just kiss in the middle of Hebrew School while we’re practicing the prayers for the service! And who cares? I completed it for the list!”

  “I did, too,” I say.

  Her mouth falls open. “You did?” she asks.

  “I did.”

  “Okay! So tell me!”

  I go into the whole story about how it was actually really awkward and bad, and we need a redo, but then I realize I didn’t tell her who it was, and she goes, “Who’s the boy? God. You’re so bad at telling stories!”

  “Sorry! Sheesh.” And then it occurs to me that maybe it’s weird that I kissed Jason. He was in friend territory and now he’s in kiss territory, and I’m not sure that was even allowed. I know we made the rules ourselves, but it’s still confusing.

  “Please tell me it’s Tyler. Please tell me you finally kissed Tyler.”

  “Tyler? No. That’s a long story.” I roll my eyes.

  “Oh, right, duh, the party . . . I heard about that.”

  “You did?” My heart flops a little. “It was Jason,” I say. “We like each other.”

  “Jason? As in our Jason?”

  I nod and look away, like I suddenly can’t make eye contact with her. Our Jason? I guess he is our Jason. But he’s a little more mine now. I guess a lot more mine.

  She sits back in her seat a little. “I didn’t expect that,” she stammers. “But, um, that’s cool.”

  I wonder if he told her he liked me. I guess he didn’t, since she seems so surprised.

  “He’s so great, Ar.” I lean forward on the table. “Honestly. I mean, remember when we met him and he was just so friendly? Sometimes friends turn into more than friends.”

  “I know that,” she d
efends. “He lives across the street from me. Remember? I just didn’t expect Jason to turn out to be more than friends because he’s, like, friends with both of us. Ya know? And he never mentioned that he likes you. . . .”

  “Yeah. But he can still be friends with both of us,” I remind her.

  “I guess.” She shrugs. “It’ll probably be a little weird now.”

  “I don’t think so,” I argue without meaning to be difficult. “Honest.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll see. I think it’s gonna be weird for the three of us to hang out. But I’m happy for you.” She forces a smile. “Anyway, I pretty much did everything on the list. I counted playing piano at my great-grandma’s retirement community as helping humanity,” she tells me. “I heard what you did. Climbing into someone’s house through a window to get them inside—very daring of you. I bet you didn’t even have agita about it because you were helping Mrs. E.”

  I smile. “And I heard about how you got on TV. Doesn’t that community service day with Sydney count as helping humanity, too?”

  “Maybe. I dunno. I also did yoga a few more times with Marie. I still don’t really like it.” She laughs and looks away for a minute, but I can’t tell what she’s thinking about. “Anyway, tomorrow after school, come to my house, and we’ll go over the list to make sure we have everything.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I say and drink another mini cup of water. “We don’t have that much time.”

  “I know.”

  “And we still have to plan our birthday party!” I yelp and look around, worried that I just scared the few people here. “We forgot the most important thing. I mean, I didn’t forget. I tried to make an online invitation, but I didn’t have everyone’s emails. And I tried to see if the room behind the pool was free, since my house is so small, but Joey said it’s under construction. So basically, I failed at party planning.”

  Her lips curve upward. “Actually, I did a pretty good job with it.”

  My heart sinks. Ari planned the party herself and invited everyone herself. It’s all figured out. I’ll have to do my own party the next week or the week after. A little belated is okay, I guess. Jason can help me plan.

  Fire burns inside my heart but I push it away, like tiny little sprinklers inside my chest put out the flames.

  I don’t want to be mad at Ari. I don’t want to be in a fight again.

  “I planned it. I invited your friends,” she says.

  “Well, that’s nice that you invited my friends to your party,” I say, trying to take the attitude out of my tone, but it’s hard. The attitude is still there. It seeps out whether I want it to or not.

  “To our party, goof,” she explains, shaking her head. “I hope you’re not mad that I planned it all. But I had a feeling we’d be made up by now, and I didn’t want everyone to be busy. Ya know?”

  I nod. Ari planned our party. She knew we’d make up. The fire in my heart turns into sweet relief, the feeling you get after you’ve been sick for a few days and you’re finally feeling better.

  “There’s still stuff to plan, though,” she reassures me. “I’ll need your help coming up with a playlist and a snack list. Tomorrow after school. We’ll go over everything.”

  I scrape the sides of the cup to get every last drop of ice cream and then put it down. I reach over and give Ari the biggest hug I’ve ever given her.

  We throw out our cups, put our coats on, and walk home in the freezing cold. It doesn’t matter, though; I really don’t feel it.

  “So we’re okay, right?” I ask. “Mrs. E says it’s good to talk, and also good to listen.”

  “Yeah,” she replies. “It is good, I guess. But I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know, either.” I laugh.

  She shoves her gloved hands in her pockets.

  We walk quietly for a few moments after that.

  “So I think we’re okay now,” I say. “It feels like we’re okay, right? We’re, like, whole new versions of ourselves now. Our Whole Me Makeover is a success, I think.”

  “You’re right. We are definitely okay.” Her scarf is over her mouth. But I can still see her cheeks curve up from smiling. “We can keep talking about things, when we want to. . . .”

  “Wait!” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and grab her arm.

  “What?” she looks around, scared.

  “JHH,” I explain. “For all of the stuff we did apart.”

  “Wait, you’re not afraid to look goofy in public anymore? Maybe you can go back to freeze dancing!” Ari squeals.

  “Oh yeah, I am definitely freeze dancing next summer!”

  We jump in the air, high-five with gloves on, and hug. And then we continue walking.

  I feel so warm inside that the outside temperature doesn’t even touch me.

  FORTY-TWO

  ARI AND I SIT IN the middle of the lunch table between the girls formerly known as the Whatevers and Marie and the others. It feels kind of nice. Like we’re two groups, still. But we can all be together.

  Jason’s at our table, too. At first I really don’t want him to sit with us because it’s an all-girls table, and I think it’ll be super-weird. And after the awkward first kiss, I’m a little on edge. Like will he try and kiss me again and do the redo when I’m not expecting it, like, in the middle of the cafeteria in front of everyone? Is a redo something we plan or something that just happens?

  Lunch turns out to be okay at first. But then Saara, June, and Cami get all giggly and they start to ask Jason goofy questions.

  June goes, “Hey, Jason, would you rather be a red pepper or a piece of asparagus?” She cracks up, and we all eye-bulge at her. But we’re laughing, too.

  Ari adds, “Definitely red pepper.” She covers her face and says under her breath, “The pee thing.”

  Jason says, “She’s right. The pee thing.”

  We all start laughing. My cheeks are as red as a red pepper now, though. The boy I kissed is at my lunch table, and we’re talking about the asparagus pee thing.

  Cami adds, “My uncle is a doctor, and he explained it to us at Thanksgiving.” She pauses. “Do you want to know why asparagus does that?”

  “No,” June shrieks. “I’m still eating. Cami, stop!”

  “Okay, on that note, I’m going to get more water. Anyone need a refill?” Jason looks around. Everyone shakes their heads and laughs like it was the funniest question in the world.

  They laugh at everything Jason says. I mean, he’s funny. But come on!

  When Jason’s refilling his water, they all turn to me and smile.

  “What?” I ask.

  “He’s the cutest boy in the school,” Cami says.

  They all echo with “totally” and “you’re so lucky.” My cheeks feel like they’re going to burst open.

  Ari groans. “Okay, people. Come on! He’s going to hear you. . . .”

  “So you guys know about the party, right?” I ask, trying to change the topic.

  They nod. “We’ve known for, like, a week,” June says. “But Arianna said to keep quiet about it.”

  “They listen to whatever I say.” Ari nods, with a half-kidding I’m so great face on.

  It still throws me off that they call her Arianna, but I get it. She’s Arianna now. I need to get used to it.

  Jason comes back with our drinks.

  “So I guess you knew about the party, too?” I ask him.

  “Of course I did.” He leans over the table to high-five Ari. “We’re BNFs. Best Neighbors Forever.”

  “For sure,” Ari says.

  Later that day, we’re at Ari’s house, lying on our backs, side by side on her bed, going over the list. I turn on the Holiday Jams playlist on my phone, and we’re singing along. All I want for Christmas is you . . .

  I know it’s early for Christmas music, but when it’s this cold out, and there’s snow on the ground, it’s hard to wait for the best music season of the year.

  Ari holds her laminated list, and I look over her sh
oulder.

  Eleven Fabulous Things to Make Us Even More

  AMAZING Before We Turn Twelve

  1. Make a guy friend. ✓

  2. Do a Whole Me Makeover. ✓

  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. ✓

  “It’s hard to believe that we’ve really completed everything,” I say. “Well, except the kayak trip.”

  “We may have to wait until the lake melts a little,” Ari says. “Did you hear the weatherpeople talking about the lake icing and how it’s so unheard of for this time of year? But don’t worry. Nothing bad is going to happen to us.”

  “I know, because of our list.” I raise my eyebrows. “So your parents are okay with us having the party here?” I ask.

  The only thing we have left to do is kayak, and I know we’re going to do it. But I don’t have agita about when it’s going to happen or how it’s going to happen. The Whole Me Makeover thing helped with that—I try not to worry about silly stuff. That way I’ll have much more energy for the important stuff.

  “Of course.” Ari pops a sucking candy in her mouth. “We can use the basement. My mom ordered soda and chips and stuff.”

  “Oh, and Cami said she can get us a discount on subs from Harvey Deli—ya know, from her neighbor,” I tell Ari. “How fab is that?”

  “Superfab!” Her phone buzzes on the bed, and she picks it up. “Noah.”

  She shows me the phone. Hey, Ari. So psyched for the bday party.

  “Eeeep!” I squeal. I grab Ari’s hands and we dance in place. “Noah is so excited! And you invited everyone we know?”

  She nods. “I didn’t want to leave anyone out; I don’t think everyone is coming, though.”

  “So we have the talent show Friday night, your birthday, and then our party Saturday night, my birthday,” Ari says. “This is going to be the best weekend ever!!”