by Lexie Bean
Every once in a while, I go to sleep thinking how lucky am I to have a story like this to tell someone. If I had gone to Mary’s silly slumber party, I probably would have been too afraid to tell my old friends anything at all. I would have only done dares and eaten potato chips. Maybe I would have ended up in another one of their home videos.
Instead, right before Sofie left tonight, I gave her my Rapunzel Barbie so she could have some help babysitting Viivi. She placed the doll on her shoulder and told me, “Good night, Rowan.” No one has ever said that to me before.
For the record, my parents still don’t know that Rowan exists. They don’t even know Rowan’s laugh or what Rowan thinks about. One day, I’d like to be Rowan at church and at the dinner table because he is my favorite version of myself. Is it okay that I said he right there? I don’t know. I hope so. Either way, thanks for not thinking I’m too weird to listen to.
Good night,
Rowan Beck
Tuesday, December 16, 1997
Hi,
You know how everybody gets a birthday wish? Does everyone get a Christmas wish too? I guess I’m just wondering exactly how many wishes do I get every year and if there’s anything I could do to get more.
For the last month, Dylan Beaman’s most favorite place in the world has been the paper football field. The championships have been taking place at our desks nearly every day before school starts, and that’s major news. Pretty much every boy in class is there. I have to admit, though, it’s kind of like the burping contests. I can only watch from the sidelines, otherwise they think I’m in the way. Nobody has told me that with their words, but trust me, I know a stink eye when I see one.
It’s really great to see Dylan Beaman happy doing his thing, though. When the boys do the big paper football flick, they all get quiet and then scream. Dylan jumps up and nods his head a bunch. It’s maybe no secret to you reading this, but I think I have a crush on him. I’ve never told him, and now would actually be the worst time ever for him to know. Word travels fast around here, especially when everybody and their brother now knows how to fold cootie catchers. I just like watching Dylan Beaman, whether or not he knows I’m there.
Before class even started, he smiled at me and had a twinkle in his eyes. I almost thought he was showing off just for me. He really knew that I was there, and actually looked happy about it. He flicked his paper football so perfectly afterward that it flew right in between his friend’s hands on the other side of the field. Dylan scored big for his Green Bay team, and I like to think that I somehow helped him get that point. But the truth is that he is at his nicest when he is already winning.
There were high fives and “boo-yahs” left and right. Dylan Beaman stood tall out of his chair to celebrate. I clapped maybe too loud, but I felt lucky to know that the biggest game of the season happened thanks to our desks getting pushed together. I decided right then and there to make Dylan Beaman paper footballs for his Christmas present. I kept my smile for the rest of the school day thinking about all the good things that this could lead to. Even Mr. B noticed. He walked by my desk while I was reading a new Goosebumps at SRT. He said to me, “It looks like you’ve been coloring with new crayons,” making me blush even more than before.
Then at recess, while all the other kids were playing king of the mountain on their snow forts, I sat under the jungle gym and taught myself how to fold my very own paper footballs. I think you would have been proud of me because some things are really hard to make without directions. Sofie sat by my side drawing pictures of cats to mail her dad. She was having a quiet day since our winter concert rehearsal this morning and didn’t say a word about all the pages I tore out of my notebook. It took me nearly seventy pieces of paper to make the same triangle shape that all the other boys have mastered. Three or four of the footballs I folded at recess maybe passed as almost perfect. The edges weren’t smooth, but they were at least symmetrical and had nice colors. I put them in my pocket, careful not to show them to anyone too soon.
But when the last bell of the day rang, I was ready. I even daydreamed about showing Dylan this cool new thing we have in common. After that, the two of us would walk out of the school’s front doors together and into the afternoon sunset. Doesn’t walking next to anyone feel like a big deal to you? It’s different from standing or sitting next to somebody. Walking together means that you’re going to the same place and I just wanted to go to the same place as Dylan Beaman, or at least pretend until it was time for us to go to our own houses.
I stood at my hallway cubby locker, and got ready to go in super slow motion until Dylan stepped out of the classroom. He hardly noticed me at first. I pulled on the rest of my coat real casual, put on my blue hat, and tucked in my hair ready to go. But when he walked by, all I could do was blurt out, “Bye, Dylan.”
He looked at me from the side and softly said back, “Bye, Rowan.” I was shocked because no one but Sofie has ever called me that name. Hearing Dylan Beaman say “Rowan” all sincere felt like a Christmas Miracle. I smiled toward the sky as if there were no ceiling at all. I quickly waved him over until his shadow showed up next to mine. I took the paper footballs out of my backpack one by one, three brown triangles and one blue and gray. I didn’t know why his eyes were glued to the door at the end of the hallway instead.
I swear on my life, the paper footballs were folded almost perfectly. I held them closer to him in case he somehow couldn’t see I had his favorite thing right in my hands. He blinked a few times, and whispered.
I almost don’t even want to tell you what he said. He said, “I made a pact with the Trampoline Club and I can’t talk to you anymore.” My old friends made a name without me. I can’t really say how this felt, so I will draw you a storm instead.
Dylan zipped up his puffy coat and walked away so fast. I heard what he said, but I didn’t think he was going to stop talking to me right that very second. I really wanted to shout at him, “I know you are, but what am I?” or kick a wall. Do you think that it was it my fault somehow? I wonder if my old friends came up with this plan at that dang slumber party I was never invited to. I hope they didn’t watch videos from Courtney’s camcorder and turn me into a party game again. I just wish I could have done something to change Dylan’s mind, but I guess a pact is a pact.
The big gray doors to the parking lot slammed behind Dylan, and he was gone. The hallway was so empty without him in it. It was just me, the janitor, and all of the school binders that my classmates left behind. I didn’t think that it was possible to feel any more alone.
I decided to stay by my cubby locker for an extra while just so Dylan Beaman and I wouldn’t accidentally see each other in the parking lot. I didn’t want to make him feel weird. Still, I caught myself hoping and praying for him to come back through those doors just to say “. . . NOT” and hang out with me a little bit longer. He would have a whole apology dance ready just like Cory did for Topanga in the last episode of Boy Meets World. I don’t know.
Honestly, all I really wanted was for him to use a football I made him for the next big game. I felt so silly still holding all of those paper triangles after he walked away. Everybody knows I just stand to the side during the games. A part of me really just wanted to crumple them all up, but I had to remember that I made them for myself too. I put them inside of my front backpack pocket, the one that I always forget about. That way, the paper footballs wouldn’t get crushed by my school binder or anything else I carry around. Some things just feel impossible to keep safe.
Sorry, I just can’t believe that the Trampoline Club got to Dylan so easy. One time, even when we were all still real friends, we played hide-and-seek at Mary’s house and they all gave up on looking for me and went on to eat Fruit by the Foot snacks instead. I stayed under that green chair with the cat toys waiting for my friends to remember me for who knows how long. Hasn’t anyone important ever forgotten about you? I can’t be the only o
ne, right? I just hope that their club doesn’t get any bigger, or soon I will be the only person in the school who isn’t in it.
I guess I can’t blame Dylan for doing what they told him. I know how bad it feels to get in trouble.
You know, I think I’m going to start wearing my plastic headband again so my old friends can remember me better. I didn’t officially put this on my Christmas list, but a real Christmas Miracle would be getting invited to a slumber party again. A real miracle would be Dylan Beaman forever remembering me as Rowan Beck. Since those things probably won’t happen, I’m trying to be brave by remembering the things I like, lightning bolts and potato chips and burping, without Dylan or anybody’s help. But the winter concert is just days away, and the thought of Dylan seeing me sing and wrinkling his nose again really scares me.
I’ll shut up now.
Hope you’re okay.
Rowan
Thursday, December 18, 1997
Hi.
The dang winter concert is tomorrow. I don’t know why it has to be this big tradition for us to sing songs that everybody has already heard a hundred million times. Doesn’t the school know that not everybody’s parents can be there? Sofie just drew pictures of white horses all recess long. She’s getting really good at drawing and I wish that carriage could come alive for her, so she could have the concert her dad planned all along.
Honestly, the only good thing about the whole show is that we got to skip SRT and language arts to rehearse this afternoon. Mr. B led all of the fourth and fifth graders to the gym. Then he and the music teacher made us get into four giant rows with tallest kids in the back and shortest in the front. The two teachers put their hands inside of their pockets and watched us all shuffle around the room like we have never done it before. A lot of the girls linked arms so they wouldn’t have to break up. I was just trying to mind my own business and stay as far away from Dylan as possible. But I looked behind me and saw Sofie make her way to the back row with her hands gripping the horse drawings in her pockets. A paper airplane flew over her head, but I don’t even think she noticed it.
The music teacher then put a peace sign in the air so everybody else would quiet down. We all raised our arms to match him while Mr. B gave us a big pep talk. He said something about singing with our whole voices, from our way deep insides and not just our throats. He said, “This is good practice in telling the truth.” Maybe he was right, I don’t know. Do you ever lie? I think I probably lie more to myself than to anybody. For example, I actually love to sing, but I’ve been telling myself that I don’t like it ever since Halloween. I also tell myself that I like some of the outfits that Mom gives to me, even though I don’t like them at all. Other times, I think I lie about sleeping when Dad visits my room. Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that sometimes it’s easier to just go along with things.
The truth is that I can tell a lie without even talking, and I was for sure lying about my height when standing with all of the short kids at rehearsal today. Like I said, I just wanted to avoid standing next to Dylan Beaman at all costs. I hunched my shoulders and bent my knees to make myself smaller. I even took my shoes off to be a half an inch shorter knowing that the Trampoline Club was probably watching. The music teacher, of course, caught me. He tapped on my shoulder and asked me to go in the tall-kid back row right next to Dylan. I turned around toward the sea of fourth and fifth graders, now all staring straight ahead toward the boom box and empty folding chairs. I right away noticed Sofie with her hands covering her eyes right in the middle of it all. I wonder where she was.
Mr. B cleared this throat until I moved. He then reminded the whole room for the second time that day, “Don’t stand in each other’s light.” I hope you know, I didn’t mean to cover somebody’s light by being in the front row. I still feel kind of sorry about it. How is it that making myself smaller still ended up being kind of selfish? It’s confusing. Anyways, I went to the back, like the teachers told me to.
I know I should have cared more about not bothering Dylan, but I tried to lean a little forward to see if Sofie had opened her eyes yet. I wanted to see if she was okay. I was hoping and praying that nobody else would notice me, but my arm accidentally touched Dylan Beaman’s striped sweater. He didn’t move an inch. He was keeping his pact with the Trampoline Club.
Mr. B then turned on the little black stereo and shouted to us, “EXPAND!” I tried expanding by standing straight up to check on Sofie over Dylan’s head. It actually wasn’t until that very moment I realized that Dylan Beaman and I are the exact same height. I always thought I was at least a few inches shorter than him. Dylan looked back at me, and I swear for a moment he smiled in a nice way. I know that we aren’t allowed to talk to each other ever again, or maybe not until the end of high school, but I wanted to give Dylan Beaman a compliment so he would like me again. I don’t know. Instead, I just kept quiet for him.
After that, I really was doing my best to just move my lips while everybody else sang the fun version of “Rudolph.” I know that using my little singing voice is not what Mr. B said to do. Here’s the thing, though, I usually only use my whole voice when I am afraid, like when I scream on a roller coaster or when the soccer ball hits me funny in gym class. Whenever that happens, I always make myself promise to never do that thing again, so that nobody notices me. So, if I sing with my whole voice, I break a promise to myself. If I don’t sing with my whole voice, I break a promise to the teacher. I break a promise no matter what, so I kept telling myself over and over, “You don’t actually like singing.” I know that’s not the truth, but that made it easier for me to imagine myself somewhere else completely. Now that I think about it, I bet Sofie was doing the same thing when her eyes were closed.
Gina, of course, was so loud and had the spot right in front of me for the concert. She sings super-duper good. One time at Girl Scouts camp, everybody even lined up by the bathroom door just to hear her shower voice. I wonder what it’s like to have people want to listen to you all the time. Today I noticed that she still wears the friendship charm bracelet I used to be a part of. I don’t even know what happened to my half, but I hated that I had to listen hers jingle all afternoon long.
I just wish that she would say “I’m sorry.” I don’t think that she ever will, though. Gina’s house has a sauna in the backyard, but for sure not a trampoline. All I’m saying is that she probably doesn’t want to be kicked out of the Trampoline Club either. Either way, pretending to do the Jingle Bells’ “fa la la la’s” backup for her made me swallow and swallow like a fish out of water. I almost forgot that I was surrounded by people.
Sorry to say, but I think Mr. B noticed me and Sofie not participating like we should. He scratched his beard all of a sudden and said, “Ellie, Sofie, I want to hear your voices.” My old friends giggled at hearing our names next to each other like that. I wish Mr. B had given them the stink eye, but instead he and the music teacher gave us both solos in the next song. Sofie is a great singer, but I can’t believe the teachers thought that I could be big in that way. Don’t they know that the gym has echoes in it, and that makes everything extra, extra loud? Singing about the “fourth day of Christmas” was not the miracle I had in mind. I tried to peek at Sofie again to see if she was okay with our new assignment. Again, I could see nothing but the side of Dylan’s head.
The song came on next from the little boom box, and my turn to sing came too quickly. I opened my mouth and looked around the room. I wanted there to be at least one person looking at me with nice eyes, but the audience was empty and all I could feel was Dylan rolling his eyes at me. I swear it was a nightmare. I had to sing “On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four calling birds” loud enough for everybody to hear. I don’t even want to think about the “true love” who gets all of these presents. I can’t believe I have to do it all again tomorrow for even more people to roll their eyes at me.
At the end of rehearsal, I looked for Sofie in the crowds of chatty friends, but she was already gone and probably started walking home without me. If she hadn’t been singing “seven swans a-swimming” over and over again, I wouldn’t have believed she was there at all. I hope she sleeps okay. I got her a really nice rock for her porch today, even though I know it’s probably not enough.
Sorry, thanks for listening,
Ellie
Friday, December 19, 1997
Hello,
I hope you like this special gold balloon. Finding it at the reception table was one of the only things I actually liked about the winter concert tonight.
Before the show even started, a bunch of kids were peeking between the heavy cafeteria doors to see whose parents came. I looked at the growing crowd for just half a second, but I couldn’t care less about my dad not being there. He was busy hunting elk in his orange hat instead, plus he only cares about me when it’s super late at night. Sofie, on the other hand, didn’t even try to see all the families showing up in the cafeteria. She leaned against the brick wall and said, “Who gets in such big trouble for having covered lights anyways?” She has a really good point there. What made me really sad though was when she said, “I don’t care about the carriage car anymore.”
That night she sang the quietest I’ve ever heard her sing. It’s like she blocked out her entire memory of singing lessons with Richard. Still, Mrs. Gavia and Viivi waved from the audience and took her picture with a disposable camera. I have to admit, I never cared about the seventh day of Christmas until she started singing about it.
When it was my turn for the solo, I swear the audience looked so bored and I couldn’t find my mom anywhere. All I could hear was the fake piano on the tape and Dylan breathing, he might have even said the bad words shut up to me. I wonder if that counts as him talking to me and breaking the Trampoline Club rules. I can’t even remember if anybody clapped for me. I kind of blacked that out too. I just know that Nathan Lucas got a bigger applause, and he lives all the way in Calumet.
