by Lexie Bean
Darn it, I have to go now. My mom is calling me for chore time. I’ll say more soon.
Rowan
PS, Hi again. Dusting the living room for Mom wasn’t so bad at all because I got to start the Boy Meets World season finale.Luckily I thought ahead and taped it last Friday. A lot of big things have happened in the episode so far. The teacher, who is always somehow around, gave them their last ever high school assignment. Everyone had to write “what’s in their hearts.” That sounds like something Mr. B would do. It’s too bad that Dad got home before I could finish the episode, though.
Usually I try to hide in my room or behind furniture when he first gets home, but there was no time. I turned off the TV trying to look innocent just doing chores as he took off his shoes. Dad didn’t even look at me, though. He just asked “Where’s Mom?” in a mad and sad way. I almost didn’t want to tell him because she and I both know how he can get on the “warpath,” as she calls it.
I don’t know. My heart just says I need to have a friend this summer or maybe find that gas station guardian angel again.
Hope you’re okay.
Sincerely,
Rowan
Friday, May 29, 1998
Dear Whoever You Are,
I’m probably the only person in the whole entire world who’s going to miss being in school this summer. I just get a bellyache when I think about being stuck in the house these next few months. Even knowing I have just a few days left at William Henderson Elementary makes me feel a little weird. I’m mostly going to miss my favorite bathroom stall, the giant rock at recess, and having time to play. Meanwhile, everybody just seems excited because next year we’re going to be at a huge school with electives, lockers, and its own swimming pool. Like always, I’ve been having trouble getting excited about the things I’m supposed to be excited about, especially today. Summer felt so close with warm air blowing through the classroom windows this afternoon.
I have to admit, I am glad I have summer vacation to take a break from science class. We’re on pretty much the last unit now, learning about magnets. Even though magnets are really everywhere around us, in outer space and even under the ground, it seems like most of us didn’t know much about them at all. Everyone had a lot of questions. I was super surprised when Nathan Lucas raised his hand for the very first time in the history of ever. He asked with a voice-crack at the end, “How can these little waves that we can’t even see have so much power?” I thought it was a good question, but some kids giggled about it and called him a “sissy.” I can see why he doesn’t usually raise his hand. Are there things that also keep you from asking what you want to? I sure know there are for me.
Anyways, after that, one of the big paper football players said to the teacher, “I also don’t really understand the whole opposites attract thing. Can’t anything just stay where it is even if it’s attracted to something else?” Mr. B thought about that one for a minute and then finally replied, “Nothing that’s for us will pass us by.” I guess that makes sense.
That whole time, Dylan Beaman was eating string cheese next to me, pulling it apart layer by layer until only the wrapper was left. He was wearing a cool Godzilla shirt. Dylan then cracked his back with a twist, and put the smelly wrapper onto my desk as if the leftovers were for me. I picked it up and crumpled it into a ball. That was actually the closest I got to getting a note passed to me all year long, which is kind of sad. My old friends used to pass me notes with smiley faces, tic-tac-toe challenges, and rumors about the Mona Lisa painting in the art room moving her eyes. Now they probably pass “yes, no, maybe” notes about crushes, who is going to get their period next, and things I’m not supposed to know about.
I thought those girls were going to get into big trouble today for passing notes and not paying attention, but it seemed like Mr. B didn’t care at all. I was so surprised, everyone was surprised actually. Instead, Mr. B said, “If you have something to say, you can try sharing it with the whole room.” Before everybody could say “awwwwww” together, Mr. B went behind his desk and pulled out a brown box full of this year’s yearbooks. Then he said, “Why don’t you write in each other’s books instead of passing notes?” I don’t know how he manages to make everything into a good lesson, even when we are technically doing bad things and following our own directions. He carried the box of yearbooks around the room and handed them out to us one by one.
Pretty much everyone cheered and scrambled to look at the pictures inside of each other’s books, even though they are all exactly the same. I stared at the one in front of me before pulling it safely onto my lap. The yearbook was heavier than I expected. The front cover was shiny plastic, stamped with the words Sweet Memories. There was a collage on the first page I opened to. The black-and-white photos looked so old already, especially the ones from the very first day of the fifth grade. Somehow they got a picture of me with my headband and empty backpack standing next to the flagpole outside. I wish they asked me first before using that one. I look so silly in it smiling with no teeth showing and no friends to hug my shoulders.
Mr. B shouted over everybody’s chatter, “This room was made for us to appreciate each other, so go ahead and share your yearbooks with your fellow classmates.” I know he wanted us to help each other remember the good parts of ourselves and of our year, but it’s just not that easy for me. I wasn’t so sure who would even want to write in mine and I sure as heck didn’t want to write the name Ellie in anybody else’s. So instead I hid my yearbook inside my desk while everybody else was laughing, taking out their gel pens, and getting in line to talk to each other. I couldn’t believe the yearbook was called Sweet Memories. I was really over the whole thing, but Mr. B made his way through the crowds.
He leaned over my desk and said, “Ellie, why don’t you just leave your book open and see what happens?” I really didn’t want to, but I listened to Mr. B anyways. At first, nobody walked up to my yearbook and I went to the pencil sharpener for a few minutes just so people didn’t think I actually cared. I kept my nose to the wall and pressed in my pencil so hard that it broke. Re-sharpening it gave me an excuse to stay there a little longer and let the room disappear.
You won’t believe it, though. When I got back to my seat, the Trampoline Club walked over. Well, they were technically lining up to sign Dylan’s book at the desk next to mine. Even so, they stood in front of me and each wrote their names into my book using their most boring-colored pens. I was so surprised that I forgot to say hi. My old friends could have used their glittery gel pens or added a simple HAGS, which is a cool new way of saying “Have a great summer.”
When they moved on to Dylan’s yearbook, I read and reread their names, Courtney, Mary, and Gina, over and over again. I’m still not so sure what I want to remember from this year at all. Practically everyone stood in line to write something for Dylan. Some people gave him their home phone numbers. Even Nathan Lucas wrote his. I wouldn’t think he even knows how to talk on the phone. I admit, I didn’t bother writing anything at all in Dylan’s book. I bet he didn’t notice, because he didn’t write in mine either. It’s whatever, though.
I used to daydream that I could rewind time all the way back to a year ago. I never would have asked to play Uncle Jesse in our Full House game. I would have never gone to that slumber party where I said that thing that made everyone feel weird. I would have never folded away my shirt with an E written in rhinestones or danced under that streetlight. I used to imagine all my old friends doing cool jumps off the trampoline and landing in a nice circle around me. After that, Dylan Beaman would buy me a lifetime supply of potato chips that have vinegar and sea salt. I can promise you that’s not my dream anymore.
I really wanted to play Uncle Jesse and I meant what I said at that slumber party, so I don’t need their fake nice yearbook signatures anyways. Haven’t your dreams ever changed? You might be surprised to hear this, but Sofie and I didn’t even write in each o
ther’s yearbooks. Maybe it was still too scary to do that in front of everyone in class, but I like what we did instead.
At recess, we sat in the dewy grass under the secrets tree. We cut out each other’s Picture Day pictures on page thirty-two with enough room to punch out little holes at the top. I used purple yarn and she used green yarn, and we each laced our photos into real friendship necklaces and tied our own knots. At the end, we wasted no time in putting them around each other’s necks.
Our pictures flapped around in the breeze better than capes. The yarn twirled and tickled the back of my neck, but that wasn’t the only reason I was smiling. Sofie can now still be there even when it seems like I’m all alone at my bedroom window or on my long drives this summer. I know I probably won’t be using my confident walk and will look down at the ground a lot. At least now I know that I can look down, and see a picture of my friend making her “Are you kidding me?” face. When I noticed my own Picture Day picture around Sofie’s neck, I decided that it doesn’t matter if it shows my fake smile and wrong hair. What matters is that Sofie wears it knowing that there are other parts of me.
She even said, “I like these necklaces so much that I might write a song about them. Maybe we could make extras to hang as ornaments on next year’s Christmas trees too.” I tried not to look too excited about that, but it really did make my heart big. I held on to her picture around my neck so tight that it folded into my hands, and nobody could tattle-tell on us for being too close.
All of my friendship necklaces with old friends had come from the store. The silver usually scratched off, or one of us would lose our half of the friendship pact. Or sometimes other groups of friends had the exact same friendship necklaces, even if their friendship was nothing at all like ours. I didn’t realize until today that I have never had homemade friendship necklaces with someone before. Wearing each other right over our hearts means that we won’t ever pass each other by. I think Sofie is going to mail a picture of herself to Richard too. I think it’s a great idea.
Even though my mom’s birthday isn’t until August, my dad got her a brand-new necklace too. It actually reminds me of that blue necklace the bad guy had on the Titanic, but way less fancy. I bet Mom will wear it to church on Sunday and tell everyone how good he is at being a husband. Meanwhile, all the husbands will just talk about the weather or whether or not the Red Wings will win the Stanley Cup again. Did you know that’s what people talk about at church when they’re not talking about God? Anyways, Dad is just trying to keep their marriage okay and show that he loves Mom or whatever. I’m trying really hard to love him, but it’s not always easy.
Him being extra nice again makes me feel like I just made everything up. Maybe I told Sofie the wrong secret about him coming into my room. I don’t know. He has been really good lately and put all of his glass bottles on the high shelf, even with these big hockey games on TV to celebrate. Necklaces are powerful, I guess. I can’t stop looking at the one around my neck, though I will probably hide it underneath my T-shirt on Sunday so nobody asks me any questions.
Thanks for listening, and don’t forget to put on bug spray.
Rowan Beck
Thursday, June 4, 1998
Dear You,
Today was the very last day of elementary school. I’m trying my best to look on the bright side of things. For example, I didn’t even have to buy myself a balloon today. Mr. B gave one to each of us as a goodbye present. I will miss him, even though I didn’t tell him that. I kind of wish I had. I don’t know, it’s weird to think of myself as a middle schooler now.
For these last few days at William Henderson, the classroom was so humid that I could practically swim in it. The hallways smelled like lemon cleaning supplies, and the trash filled up with everyone’s worn-out folders. We all had to give back our language arts binders for the new fifth graders to use next year, and all of the inspiration posters were taken down. Every day, we watched the clock like it was the best teacher in the whole wide world.
For most people in my class, their favorite thing from this last week was probably the fifth-grade water balloon fight and eating Popsicles outside for Field Day. A lot of people also love that game where we fill a bucket with water by squeezing a wet sponge, and everybody screams. Not me, though. Today was the best because Sofie and I got to show everybody what we have been working on all along.
Just like the first day of school, Mr. B had us line up next to the big sunny window in the back of the room. This time, though, he wanted to try things a little bit differently, so he played dance music on his boom box for us to do our confident walks. The words in the first song he played said, “Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back.” I tapped my foot to the notes like I was born knowing them.
Dylan went first and did his walk the exact same as always, slow and steady in his Red Wings jersey. I bet a lot of people wrote “Don’t change” into his yearbook. He stood tall and his shoes still lit up. He has probably been doing his walk like that since the beginning of time. Sofie, on the other hand, stepped bigger and louder than she ever did at school. Her walk was so confident that she didn’t even care what music was playing. She mouthed the words to her “Shake, Shake, Shake” song, and rattled the brand-new gold beads in her hair into a musical instrument. The flying gold picked up the light from the window. She looked so much like Richard in that moment, glowing like she was already out in the sun.
At the end of her walk, Sofie blew a kiss to the whole room. I couldn’t believe it. I had never seen her do that before. Do you think the kiss was really for everyone or do you think it was for someone special? Either way, she did a really great job.
When it was finally my turn, Mr. B said, “Rowan, you’re up.” It was like his words echoed through the whole entire room. He had never said my real name out loud before. Now that I think about it, I actually think that was my favorite part of the day. It made it much easier to “EXPAND!” just like the chalkboard said.
I took my first step and forgot the music was playing at all. I only heard the fan in the corner of the room. My cheeks blushed pink. I put my hands on my hips, and pretended that I had a leather jacket and a nose piercing. My friendship necklace swung with every step. I felt the whole room’s eyes on my walk like they were meeting me for the first time. Mr. B reminded me I deserved to be there by calling me who I am.
When I got back in line with everyone else, I pulled my hand through my hair and took a big breath. If the teacher asked me again, I could probably think of ten things I love. One day, I might even be brave enough to write them in a bathroom stall with my permanent marker.
After everybody got their turn, Mr. B led the entire class past the recycling bin, and into the hallway to say goodbye to William Henderson Elementary School. We did our walks all together like a parade. All the little kids in the school smiled and gave us high fives from the sidelines like in the movies. I hardly remember the rest, it happened so fast. But I remember smiling and clapping with everybody else in my class just for making it this far.
I do hope that my confident walk stays with me when I start at a new school in September. Do you think it could leave and never come back? Sorry. I’m trying my best not to think like that, but sometimes I can’t help it. It’s just that tomorrow is my last chance to see Sofie in a long time. Odds are I’ll have to run into the Trampoline Lambda Kappa Club over summer vacation, probably with our moms at Kmart or the strawberry festival or something like that. Our moms might even want to talk to each other, and my old friends and I would have to just stand there praying for it to be over. Then, on the ride home, I would have to find a way to tell my mom who I have really been having slumber parties with this spring. Gosh, I would be grounded for life if that happened.
To top it all off, the Spice Girls actually broke up. Sofie told me all about it just as we were leaving our elementary school for the very last time. The Spice Girls nearly split in their m
ovie because of a mean spy, but I didn’t think it would actually happen in real life. Do you think that anything good could happen next? Has their song “Viva Forever” ever made you cry? What about their song about moms? Either way, their songs are still the best for drowning out my parents’ shouting downstairs, which is what I did this afternoon. Mom sounded extra upset, sad even.
I could hear the clanking of Dad taking his bottles down. I think I heard him punch his wall again too, but it’s hard to tell. You would think he would be at least a little bit happy that the Red Wings will probably win the Stanley Cup again. I don’t know, though. Even with my loud music, I could hear him say “The world keeps turning around.” I think he’s mad or sad about something too. Maybe he just cares too much. Either way, now I know for sure that I didn’t tell Sofie the wrong secret. I just wish I could remember more. I wish I could have a camcorder at the right time. In the meanwhile, here is a drawing of me and my mom driving somewhere that’s not here.
Hope you’re okay.
Sincerely,
Rowan
PS, I was just looking through my yearbook, and it’s not as empty as I thought. I can’t believe it. Mr. B actually left me a note in the back. It says, “Dear Rowan, Thank you for including me in your journey this year. Even in silence, your voice is so strong. You have a great gift for this world, and I know that can be a big, scary responsibility. If you ever need to talk to someone, you can always call 1-866-488-7386 or come visit me in my classroom next year. In middle school and beyond, keep on changing, keep doing the work, and keep your head up. With love, Mr. B.”
I didn’t know I could be thanked for any of that, especially when I have been feeling so bad this year. Maybe I’m not as bad as I thought? I don’t know. Either way, maybe I have my own emergency contact now, someone to call when I feel lonely or confused. That’s good news, I think.
