Extraordinary

by Miriam Spitzer Franklin

  Copyright © 2015 by Miriam Spitzer Franklin

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Franklin, Miriam Spitzer.

  Extraordinary / Miriam Spitzer Franklin.

  pages cm

  Summary: Pansy often backed out of things her best friend, Anna, wanted to do, including attending the sleepaway camp where Anna contracted meningitis and became disabled, but when Pansy learns that surgery might restore Anna to her old self, she will do anything to become extraordinary in time for Anna’s return.

  ISBN 978-1-63220-402-8 (hardback) -- ISBN 978-1-63220-822-4 (ebook)

  [1. Best friends--Fiction. 2. Friendship--Fiction. 3. People with disabilities--Fiction. 4. Self-actualization (Psychology)--Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.1.F754Ext 2015

  [Fic]--dc23

  2014042500

  Cover design and illustration by Brian Peterson

  Printed in the United States of America

  For my dad

  CHAPTER ONE

  Fourteen Weeks, Four Days

  It was the first day of fifth grade, and I had a promise to keep. Ever since spring break, I’d woken up with an ache inside of me, like I’d been swallowing rocks all night. But today, I felt a hundred times lighter. Instead of rocks in my stomach, today I felt the fluttering of butterfly wings.

  I glanced down at my necklace—the one with half a heart and the words BEST FRIENDS written across it. I jumped out of bed and grabbed the scissors on my dresser. Most people would think I was nuts, but I knew what I had to do. I gathered up my hair in a ponytail, opened up the scissors, and began to cut.

  My hair didn’t fall to the ground with one snip the way Anna’s had at Shear Magic Salon back in March. I felt like I was sawing through my stack of American Girl magazines, but I kept on cutting. Finally, my ponytail dropped from my hand and fell to the floor with a thump.

  I stared down at the pile of hair. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. The ponytail was still on the floor.

  My eyes traveled up to the mirror. My long hair was gone. Staring back at me was a girl with much shorter hair, bigger eyes, and a longer neck. I looked different, and I knew that inside I’d become a different person, too.

  I turned away from the mirror and pulled out my special box from my bottom dresser drawer. I had covered the box in pink construction paper, decorated it with hearts, and written the word ANNA on it with glitter markers.

  I picked up a photo taken a few weeks before Anna went to camp last spring without me, right after we promised each other we’d cut our hair for Locks of Love. Short-haired Anna peered back at me, her eyes shining as a big smile stretched across her face. We were outside Shear Magic Salon, and Anna had her arm around my shoulder, hidden under the long hair that fell halfway down my back.

  I flipped through the other photos. Anna and I dressed up as salt and pepper shakers for Halloween. Hanging upside down from the jungle gym. Holding onto the same boogie board as the waves crash around us. I lingered on my favorite—from last summer on the Fourth of July. We wore red, white, and blue hats with sparkly tassels sticking out of the top, and we had our arms around each other, making silly faces.

  Pulling my eyes away from the photos, I stared into the mirror, thinking about how I could magically transform into the kind of person I wanted to be. This year I had to become all the things I’d never been before: Brave. Daring. Smart. Talented. Extraordinary in every way, like Anna.

  I had to become extraordinary because, yesterday, I heard the most amazing news. Anna was going to have surgery in a few months that could fix her brain and turn her back into the person I used to know. And when she woke up in the hospital and saw me again for the first time, I was going to be the best friend she could ever have.

  If I turned into an extraordinary person, then Anna had to forgive me for all the promises I’d broken. And she’d have to forget about the huge fight we had right before she went to sleep-away camp over spring break—the fight that ended when Anna asked me to leave and slammed the door behind me.

  The next time I saw her was in the hospital. Anna couldn’t talk, she couldn’t understand what people were saying, and she didn’t act like she knew me at all. And if she remembered the fight, I sure couldn’t tell.

  “Pansy! Time for breakfast!” Mom called. I shook the memory of Hospital Anna right out of my head and ran down the stairs, two at a time.

  “Hi, Mom, Dad,” I said, dropping into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Hi, honey. What do you want for . . .” Mom’s voice trailed off as she looked up from the lunch she was packing. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes got big and round. “Pansy Louisa Smith! What in the world have you done with your hair?”

  Dad peered at me from over his newspaper. Then he choked on his toast.

  I ran my fingers down my neck, which felt pretty good without all that heavy hair against it. “I’m giving it to Locks of Love. To help girls who lost their hair from cancer.”

  Silence. Dad wiped crumbs from his mouth and cleared his throat. Mom was still staring at me like I’d dyed my hair in rainbow colors and gotten a Mohawk. But all I did was cut off my ponytail!

  I poured myself a glass of orange juice. “Remember when I was going to cut my hair back in March?”

  “Of course, honey,” Mom said, her voice softening. “You and Anna planned it together.”

  “Well, I finally did it,” I said. “I promised Anna I’d do it, and it’s not nice to break a promise.”

  Mom nodded, then popped a bagel in the toaster. She and Dad gave each other The Look, which they’d been giving each other a lot this summer. It meant, “I’m worried about Pansy. Maybe she needs to talk to a psychiatrist.” Mom had asked more than once if I wanted to see a doctor “to talk about things.” I’d told her no—that I was definitely not interested in talking to some stranger. I hadn’t convinced them, though. They didn’t think I could hear them from across the hall, but it wasn’t so hard to figure out they were talking about me in hushed voices in their room at night.

  While the bagel was toasting, Mom smoothed my hair with her hand and gave me a hug. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m great. It’s the first day of fifth grade. And I’ve always wanted to give my hair to Locks of Love, so I thought today would be a good day for it.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me?” Mom set the bagel on the table. “I would have taken you to the salon. There are people who cut hair for a living, you know.”

  I tucked a loose strand behind my ear. “I like my hair the way it is. Well, except it makes my neck look funny. Do you think my neck is too long?”

  Dad laughed.

  “You have a lovely neck,” Mom said with a smile. Then she picked up her phone and checked her schedule like she did every day. “I have to show a couple of houses this morning, but I’m free all afternoon. I’ll call my hairdresser and see if she can fit you in after school.
”

  What was the hairdresser going to do—glue my hair back on my head? “Mommm . . . I already told you, I think it looks perfect.”

  “Ellen, why don’t we talk about this later?” Dad said to Mom. “It takes guts to be a true individual.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I sat up a little straighter in my seat.A true individual. That’s what I needed if I was on my way to being extraordinary.

  Dad winked at me. Mom sighed and set her phone down.

  “So, we were thinking,” Dad said, glancing at the clock. “Do you want me to give you a ride on your first day?”

  “A ride?” I looked up from my bagel. “To school?”

  “Sure,” Dad said, but he looked away, busying himself with folding up the newspaper. “Since it’s your first day of fifth grade and all.”

  Oh. The first day of a new school year without Anna is what he meant. The old Pansy would have taken him up on it. Instead, I said, “I told Andy I’m meeting him, like always.”

  “Oh, okay,” Dad said. “We were just wondering—”

  “No, I mean, yeah, I’m fine.” I glanced up at the clock. Cutting off my hair had taken longer than I thought. I gulped down the last of my breakfast and ran to the shoe basket next to the door.

  I strained my ears to hear my parents’ conversation as I slipped on my shoes but couldn’t make out their words. I was sure they were talking about me.

  “Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!” I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. Luckily, Greenview Elementary was only a few blocks away. I took off in a run, hoping Andy, Anna’s twin brother, hadn’t left without me.

  I spotted him as I rounded the corner. He was waiting on his front porch, glancing at his watch as he paced back and forth.

  “Hey!” I stopped to catch my breath. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Mrs. Liddell stuck her head out the door. “Hi, Pansy!”

  “Hi, Mrs. Liddell. How’s Anna doing today?”

  Mrs. Liddell smiled. “Great. She’s already had a big breakfast, and she has a therapy appointment this morning . . . Oh, wow, I love your new haircut!”

  “Thanks. I cut it this morning.”

  “This morning?” Her eyes opened wide. “You did it yourself?”

  “Mom, we gotta go,” Andy said. Mrs. Liddell gave Andy a hug, and he squirmed away as fast as he could. “Come on, Pansy,” he said, hopping off the porch.

  “Have a great day!” Mrs. Liddell called to us.

  When we got to the end of the driveway, I ran my hand over my short hair and smiled at Andy. “So, what do you think? Do you like it?”

  He stared at me for a minute. Then he shook his head. “No. You look weird.”

  I rolled my eyes and started walking again, faster this time. “You’re just like my mom. She tried to make me an appointment this afternoon with her hairdresser.”

  “It’s not that,” Andy said. “I don’t get why you’d cut it off, that’s all.”

  “For Locks of Love!” I said. “You know, like Anna did.”

  Andy sucked in his breath and looked away from me. I wanted to explain why I had to cut my hair—that I’d overheard my mom talking to his mom on the phone and that I knew all about Anna’s brain surgery. I wanted to tell him about my plans to become extraordinary so Anna would forgive me. But the words got stuck in my throat.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence.

  “I hope we don’t have a lot of homework this year,” Andy finally said as we neared the front doors. “I hope Miss Quetzel’s not as bad as some of the other fifth-grade teachers. Last year, I heard that Mrs. Sandora assigned a five-page paper for homework on the very first day of school.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Five pages? On the first night? I bet someone made that up to scare you.”

  “It’s true. Jacob Lambuca had her last year. Everyone had to write about how they spent their summer vacation.”

  “I don’t believe it.” I shook my head, wondering how I’d fill up five pages about my vacation. Pushed Anna on the swing. Handed Anna a toy. Talked to Anna even though she didn’t understand what I was saying. Played with Andy in his treehouse. Went home and thought about Anna. “Besides, Miss Quetzel’s a new teacher. She’s probably much nicer than Mrs. Sandora.”

  “Maybe. Hey, Pansy?”

  “What?”

  “Why are you wearing two different colored shoes?”

  I stopped in front of the school and looked down at my feet. One pink sneaker . . . and one blue!

  Uh-oh.

  My stomach dropped to my toes. Would people be like Dad and think that I was “a true individual”? Or would they think I was plain weird?

  Anna would have laughed, and then she would have offered to switch one of her shoes so it would be like we’d mixed everything up on purpose.

  Andy just shrugged and pushed open the doors without saying another word.

  Miss Quetzel stood in the doorway of Room 5A. Her red hair fell past her shoulders in bouncy ringlets, and her green eyes sparkled as she smiled at me. I could already tell she was a lot nicer than old Mrs. Sandora.

  “Welcome to fifth grade!” she greeted us. “Look for your nametag, and then you can start on some fun activity sheets that are on your desk.”

  I smiled back and walked into the room. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t notice my shoes, no one else would, either. As I wandered around looking for my nametag, a punch landed smack on my shoulder.

  I turned to find Zach Turansky, the most obnoxious boy in the fifth grade, standing behind me. Just my luck. He pointed at my lopsided haircut, an ugly grin on his face. “What happened to you—did your head get caught in a lawnmower?”

  A couple boys laughed. My cheeks blazed. What I really wanted to do was punch him right back. Not just because he deserved it, but because of the mean and rotten things he’d said to Andy last year.

  Instead, I took a deep breath and looked Zach straight in the eye. “I cut my hair for Locks of Love,” I said, courage soaring through me. “Not that it’s any of your business.” Then I turned away from him, holding my head high.

  Even though Zach and the boys were still making cracks about me, I felt a smile curve up my face as I walked away from them. I’d stood up to Zach, when it used to be Anna who always had a good comeback ready. Even with a lopsided haircut and mismatched shoes, I could do this. I could become extraordinary for Anna, and when she came out of surgery, we’d become best friends again, the way it was supposed to be.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Fourteen Weeks, Four Days

  I made my way to the front row, where Andy was pointing to the desk next to his. My name was printed neatly on the nametag. Andy gave me a thumbs-up as I slid into my chair. A few minutes later, Miss Quetzel asked us to put away our activity sheets as she passed out a piece of paper with the words CLASS DISCIPLINE POLICY written at the top.

  By the time you make it to the last year of elementary school, you pretty much know everything that might show up on such a handout. So it didn’t take long for my mind to wander.

  School would be a lot more interesting with some new rules. What if you had to yell out, “Warty pickles!” whenever you had to use the pencil sharpener? Or what if one of the class jobs was being the cheerleader? Every time someone answered correctly, the cheerleader would have to clap, cheer, or turn a cartwheel.

  I was so busy thinking up new rules that I missed something Miss Quetzel said. It must have been good because the quiet room suddenly bubbled over with excitement.

  Miss Quetzel clapped her hands together. When everyone settled down, she said, “Class, I know that everyone will have a great time at the Good Citizens party in December. But here’s the catch.” She paused dramatically and looked at all of us. “You will have to earn the party as a class. There will be opportunities to earn points for good behavior, but points will also be taken away for disruptive and disrespectful behavior. Therefore, it is very important that we work together and remind each other to behave like Good Citiz
ens throughout the day. And here’s something I’ll bet you don’t know about me: I’ve been a figure skater most of my life. So anyone who wants skating lessons, I’ll be glad to help. Plus, I’ll reserve the party room at the Ice Palace, so we can have a real celebration with popcorn, cake, and soda!”

  Everyone erupted into cheers again. Everyone, that is, except me. The Good Citizens party would take place at the ice-skating rink? Why couldn’t Miss Quetzel be a champion bowler or cake-baker instead? Of all the places for a fun party, the Ice Palace was at the bottom of my list.

  Last winter, Anna convinced me to sign up for skating lessons. She had glided off right away, while I spent most of the time sitting on the ice. My toes froze, my ankles blistered, and my nose ran for the whole hour. The best part of the afternoon—actually, the only good part—was when I finally pulled off my skates and headed to the warming area for a cup of hot chocolate.

  “I quit,” I had told Anna afterward. “I don’t have to do something more than once to know I hate it.” And I had meant it. At the time, anyway.

  But . . . this was my chance to make it up to Anna. I needed to show her I was the type of person who followed through on promises even when it was tough. If Anna’s surgery was at the beginning of December, she could be totally cured in time for the Good Citizens party. Anna would know I’d changed when I put on my skates and glided along beside her.

  I thought about the Good Citizens party for the rest of the morning. I pointed my toes underneath my desk, imagining I was one of those beautiful figure skaters I liked to watch on TV. Now I just had to convince my parents to sign me up for lessons, which wasn’t going to be easy since I’d quit the last time.

  By lunchtime, I decided that Miss Quetzel was the most awesome teacher I’d ever had. I thought she liked me, too. She’d called me by name, smiled at me, and put her hand on my shoulder when she walked past my desk.

  “Miss Quetzel is cool,” I said to Andy as we sat down in the cafeteria. Miss Quetzel had told us to fill in the seats at the long table, so we ended up next to Madison Poplin and a group of her friends. Madison was one of those popular girls that Anna and I never paid much attention to.