Happy Birthday to Me Again (Birthday Trilogy, Book 2)

by Rowe, Brian

  I tried Liesel’s cell phone one last time. Again, it went to voice-mail.

  “OK, Leese, I’m getting really scared now,” I started saying after the beep. “What happened today? First, I start getting sick again. And then you just up and disappear. What the hell’s going on? Call me. Anytime. Please. Please, please, please.” I took a deep breath and bit my bottom lip. “Leese, I’m going to pray for you.”

  I set the phone on the carpet next to my bed and hit my head against the pillow. I was asleep within seconds, the heavenly sounds of Kimber’s violin slowly fading away.

  6. Fourteen

  Five-five.

  I was shrinking. The pimples had disappeared, but I was a couple of inches shorter than yesterday. None of my clothes could fit me now.

  But, worst of all, my voice had started changing. I remembered how excited I was back in the day, finally, in eighth grade, when my voice started to crack, allowing me the opportunity to not sound any longer like a three-year-old girl. Now, it was happening again.

  But it’s going in the other direction.

  I undressed and stepped into the shower. I looked down. I didn’t have any hair below the forehead now. I sighed, double checked to make sure the bathroom door was locked, and took a twenty-minute shower, trying to figure out how I was going to find Liesel.

  One thing I knew for sure: I can’t stay in this house anymore. Mom and Dad will have a heart attack if they see me!

  After brushing my teeth and spraying some deodorant under my pre-teen arms, I tiptoed across the hallway, with only a towel on, into my sister’s bedroom and shut the door. I was pretty certain that Kimber was at school, but I made sure to lock her door, too. I gulped, loudly, as I stepped into her giant closet.

  OK, I thought. Anything?

  Kimber’s closet was a palace of clothes that just went on forever. The funny thing about the arrangement on this side of the house was that I got the giant bedroom with a tiny closet barely big enough to fit a shirt or two, while Kimber got a smaller bedroom, but with a closet big enough to store a Jacuzzi. I always thought of Kimber as a tomboy, but in the last six months she had really started becoming a little diva princess, with a closet jam-packed with two times the amount of clothes there used to be, or that she needed. I knew she’d kill me if she knew I was in here.

  Extraordinary circumstances, sis.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I couldn’t deny the truth. My sister had shot up to about five-four, maybe even five-five, in the last few months, and I was probably now about her same size. The question was not if she had any clothes that would fit me, though; it was if she had anything that would look appropriate on a boy.

  Ugh… I guess I’ll be going without underwear for a few days.

  After sorting through her dozen or more pairs of jeans, I found one near the back that looked no different than a men’s pair. I tried it on. They were a little tight—if anything, I thought her pants would be too loose—but they fit.

  She had about two hundred shirts to pick from, ones in every color and size I could think of. She had at least fifteen pink shirts; I decided to pass on those. In the back of the closet were some smaller, older shirts, which I decided to snag just in case I didn’t return home tonight.

  I picked out a light blue shirt, which didn’t look too gender-specific, but after putting it on I decided I definitely looked like a sexually confused fourteen-year-old boy. Thankfully, I found some plain white t-shirts toward the back of the closet, and chose one that looked the most masculine. It had a giant sword in the center of it, with the slogan: VIOLINIST BY DAY, NINJA BY NIGHT. Again, it was a little tight for my figure, but it reached over the jeans fine, and I decided it was the best I could do.

  Now… time to find Liesel.

  ---

  I returned to the park and sat on the swings for two hours or more, trying Liesel’s cell phone every ten minutes. It went to voice-mail every single time, no surprise there. Finally I swung as high as I could go and leaped to the dirt with the finesse of a seasoned gymnast. I patted my sides and started walking around the area in search of clues.

  I made my way to the parking lot. I couldn’t see a single car besides mine. I inspected the ground for anything unusual, something that might have been dropped yesterday. But I didn’t see anything. I never took myself to be a Sherlock Holmes type, but I figured I was adept at catching things out of the ordinary.

  I caught just that when I looked out ahead of me, at the Truckee River, and felt a chill run through my body. There was no doubt about it: somebody was watching me. I turned around to look over at the swings and jungle gym, but I couldn’t see anybody there. I turned back toward the river.

  “Is someone there? I know you’re there!”

  I heard a giggle, and I turned to my right to see three young kids laughing, walking over to the baseball field across the way.

  It took me another minute to find who I was looking for. It was a girl, and she was staring at me from behind one of the trees that lined the sidewalk in front of the river.

  “Hey! You!” I shouted.

  I started racing toward the sidewalk, sprinting through the parking lot and past the street. I could still see her. She wasn’t moving. The closer I got, the more I could make out that whoever this girl was, she had a big, eerie smile on her face.

  “Hey! What—”

  I planted my feet against the sidewalk and turned toward the tree. She was gone.

  No. It can’t be…

  I turned around, and then turned back toward the tree. I couldn’t see anyone.

  But then I heard footsteps coming from the dirt embankment next to the river. The girl was running away.

  “Hey! Come back!”

  I could see her running at the bottom of the embankment. I tried to make my way down it without falling, but I failed. My right foot hit the side of a twig, and I fell on my back and started rolling to the bottom of the hill. When I pushed my hand against the dirt toward the bottom to stop myself, I scraped it hard against another set of twigs, these as sharp as glass. I glanced at the bottom of my right hand to see blood, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I jumped back up to my feet and started racing after the girl.

  “Stop! Stop right now!”

  As I got closer to her, she didn’t pick up her pace. She appeared to want me to stop her.

  “Goddammit, stop!”

  I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her down to the ground.

  “Hey!” she shouted.

  I jumped on top of her and straddled her, ready to smack her in the face a few times before asking her a thousand questions. But I stopped myself.

  The girl was a total stranger, dressed in fitness clothes, small headphones planted around her ears.

  “Get off me, you psycho!” she shouted, jumping up to her feet and racing down the dirt path much faster than she had been before.

  “Sorry!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Thought you were someone else!” I shook my head and turned around.

  I was halfway up the dirt embankment, when my phone started ringing.

  “Oh shit.” I grabbed the phone from my pocket and slammed it against my ear. “Liesel?”

  “Cameron?” It was my mom.

  My heart dropped. “Oh. Hey Mom.”

  “Hey, sorry to bother you. I know you’re probably busy. I just wanted to check in with you… do you think you’ll be home for dinner tonight?”

  I had already started tuning her out. I was eyeing that same tree from before, to see if that same girl was standing there. She wasn’t.

  “What?” I asked. “Oh, uhh, I’m not sure. Why?”

  “There’s something important I need to talk to you and your sister about.”

  “Oh? Really? Can you just tell me now?”

  “I’d like to do it in person, Cam.”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Liesel and I… you know… we’re so busy with the wedding… and everything…”

  “I know. I just ne
ed a few minutes of your time.”

  “OK. I’ll try.”

  “Six o’clock?”

  “I’ll try.”

  I hung up and made my way back up to the sidewalk and parking lot. My right wrist was bleeding more than I realized, and it started aching. I found some paper towels in the back seat of my car and applied pressure to it. I wanted the blood to go away. I didn’t want anyone to think I had slit my wrists or something.

  I sat down in the driver’s seat of my car, which was making me feel like I was turning into Mini Me, and adjusted my seat, again. I was barely able to reach the pedal. I figured I had another day or two before I would have to give up driving completely.

  I thought about what my mom had said on the phone. What was so important? Trust me, Mom. What I’d have to say and show you is much more dramatic than anything you have to reveal. I didn’t want to worry my mom, or my dad, but I knew now that I couldn’t return home—that is, until I solved my current dilemma. I needed to come up with a lie. And I knew there was only one person who could help me.

  ---

  I always thought if I re-entered the doors of Darrell Mope Middle School it would appear tiny and inconsequential, the hallways filled with little children who still hadn’t broken into young adulthood yet. I remembered how much of a grown-up I felt when I exited these halls as a graduated eighth grader five years ago. I knew I never wanted to look back but instead look forward to four years of high school that were going to mark some of the best years of my life. Those tumultuous years certainly had their ups and downs, particularly in those last three months of my senior year, but it had all been worth it in the end. And the thought of ever going back to high school, let alone middle school, seemed unlikely.

  But here I was, traipsing through the halls of my old middle school, looking just the way I did five years ago, as if not one day had passed.

  If any of my old teachers remember me, I thought, they’re probably going to faint, have a heart attack, or just start screaming.

  “Son, shouldn’t you be in class?” two teachers asked of me on separate occasions as I made my way through the halls, looking in all the classrooms to see if I could find my sister. I had no idea what classes she took. But this wasn’t that big of a school. There were only so many places she could be.

  I made my way up and down the left side of the school, not having any luck locating Kimber in any of the classrooms. I headed back toward the middle of the school, when I saw mean old Principal Priss, a tall, gray-haired figure with a thick moustache, making his way toward me. I had forgotten about him. He was almost as bad as Mrs. Gordon.

  I wonder if he’d remember me.

  I stepped back into the closest entryway I could find and hid behind a door as the Principal walked past me to the other end of the hall. He over-emphasized every one of his footsteps, like he was a cocky old man on a mission. I saw him pull out a walkie-talkie as he turned the corner.

  “Ass,” I said out loud.

  “Excuse me?”

  I turned around to see a library, one a third of the size of Mrs. Gordon’s grand oasis at Caughlin Ranch High. I looked past the bookshelves on the left to see nearly a dozen students sitting at tables. I didn’t see Kimber, unfortunately.

  “Excuse me, can I help you?”

  I turned to my right and almost fainted from fright. The one element of the middle school I remembered was that of the sweet, young librarian Mrs. Newt. In her early thirties, with a short build and frizzy brown hair, she was that rare figure who never went out of her way to make my life a living hell. I figured she’d still be here. I was dead wrong.

  “I asked you a question!” the librarian said, staring at me like I was a complete dummy. I didn’t look at her like she was stupid; I looked at her as if she was a clone.

  The librarian looked just like Mrs. Gordon, only thirty years younger. She too wore an awkward business suit, with big black glasses, and she too looked like she could be as young as twenty-five and as old as forty.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I seem to be lost…”

  “Keep your voice down! This is a library!” She rushed up to me and pushed me against the wall. “Shouldn’t you be in class, young man?”

  “I’m sorry… are you…”

  “What?”

  “Is your last name… Gordon?”

  “What? Of course not!”

  Spit came out of her mouth on that one, hitting me on both sides of my nose, as well as my left eyebrow.

  “I’m a married woman, unlike my mother. I got to change my last name. I am Mrs. Tough, the finest librarian in Reno.”

  “Mrs. Godon has a daughter?”

  I didn’t want to faint. I wanted to find and shoot the man who had actually had sexual intercourse with that old beast of a woman.

  I just shook my head and turned around. I didn’t need to get out of the library. I needed to get out of the school.

  I started stepping toward the exit door. “Sorry for bothering you,” I said.

  “Hey, where are you going? Do you need a book, or don’t you?”

  “I don’t!”

  I opened the door and slammed it right into Principal Priss, who had been standing in front of the library with his walkie talkie pressed up against his mouth.

  “Excuse me!” he shouted. “What on Earth—”

  “Sorry,” I said, and walked past him, but before I could sprint down the hallway, he grabbed the back of my t-shirt and pulled me up against his legs. I was barely as tall as his belly button. This guy must’ve been six-six, maybe six-seven. I always thought he had been a giant in middle school, and here I was, five years later, very much still thinking the same thing.

  “Principal Priss!”

  “Call me, Sir!” he shouted. “What are you doing out of class?”

  “I, uhh… I just had to get a drink of water.”

  “There aren’t any drinking fountains in the library. Are you stupid or something?”

  He eyed me for a moment. I could see him scanning his impeccable memory, trying to place who I was.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Uhh… I’m… uhh…”

  “I don’t have all day, boy!”

  Mrs. Gordon’s daughter stepped out of the library and rubbed her hip up against Principal Priss’s. “Is this kid giving you trouble, Sam?”

  He turned to the woman. “He doesn’t seem to know his own name.”

  I laughed. “I know my name! It’s… uhh… Burt.”

  “Burt?” the librarian asked.

  “I know who you are, boy.” Priss squinted his eyes and leaned over, placing his hands on his knees. “Why can’t I place you?”

  “I’ve never seen him before in my life,” the librarian said.

  Priss bit down on his tongue. “You know… you are the spitting image of a real troublemaker… a child who truly made my life a living Hell.”

  “I should get back to class,” I said, sensing an imminent disaster if I didn’t escape soon.

  “You’re not going back to class,” he said. “You’re coming with me to the Principal’s office!”

  Hell, no, I’m not.

  I turned to my right to see a familiar face walking toward me. I figured it was now or never.

  As Principal Priss grabbed my arm to escort me to his office, I faked that I stumbled on my feet, causing me to fall toward the floor and land on my stomach with a loud thud.

  “Owww!” I shouted, even though it didn’t hurt that bad.

  “Oh my God!” a woman yelled in the distance, running up to me. I was almost positive it was who I thought it was, but she certainly looked different.

  “That was…” Priss started. “That wasn’t my fault!”

  “Are you all right?” It was the soothing voice of Mrs. Newt looking absolutely darling in a simple white shirt and tanned slacks, with what looked to be a stethoscope around her neck.

  “I hurt my hand,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. It was still hurting
from earlier when I slammed it up against that twig.

  I showed her my right hand, which had enough dried blood on it to suggest my fall on the blue hallway carpet probably wasn’t the culprit. But Mrs. Newt didn’t seem to mind.

  “Come with me, young man,” she said. “I’m the school nurse. I can help you.”

  The school nurse? What?

  “Umm… OK.”

  “Come on.”

  She helped me back up to my feet, and I turned around, briefly, to see the tall giant and the beast’s horrific daughter staring at me with confusion, both with their hands on their hips. They turned to each other, like this wasn’t the end of their investigation.

  I walked with Mrs. Newt all the way to the front entrance of the school, where there was a small medical station next to the welcoming desk. It only took her a minute or two to bandage up my right hand. When she finished, she sat next to me on the dinky excuse for a bed and smiled at me.

  “So you’re the school nurse now.”

  “That’s right, Cameron,” she said. “I needed a change of pace.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

  “So it’s happening again, huh? What next? You gonna start aging sideways?”

  I brought my hands to her. “Mrs. Newt, you know who I am?”

  “Call me Nurse Newt.”

  “Oh. OK.”

  “Cameron, not everyone in Reno is a complete idiot. You were one of the most memorable troublemakers I ever had as a librarian. I kept dibs on you. I called Mrs. Gordon at CRHS from time to time to check up on you. You think I didn’t know about what happened to you last year?”

  “But how do you know…”

  “The rapid aging… the sudden transition back to normal… you and your girlfriend floating in the air for the whole world to see…”

  I brought my hands back to my lap. “You know about all that?”

  “Of course. And I figured it was only a matter of time before something else crazy happened to you. Am I correct in saying that now you’re aging backward?”

  My jaw dropped. I had always taken Mrs. Newt to be a smart lady, but little did I know she was one mile ahead of everyone else in Reno.