11 Birthdays by Wendy Mass

she says, grabbing her granola bar, “I’ll need it. I’m sorry you have to take the bus today, but I’ve really gotta run.”
    I turn back to my cereal and then, with a sharp intake of breath, I drop my spoon. It lands in the bowl with a splash that sends milk spraying into my face. “Mom, wait!”
    She stops halfway out the door. “What is it, Amanda? I can’t be late.”
    I jump up and pull the poster from under her arm. “This isn’t your presentation. It’s Kylie’s science project.” I slide off the rubber band and hold it up. Sure enough, it’s a diagram on how a solid becomes a liquid and then a gas.
    Her eyes widen when she sees it. “I must have left mine upstairs!” She drops her overflowing briefcase to the floor. “How did you know?”
    Good question. “Um, I saw her leave it here last night?”
    She gives me a hug. “You better hurry and finish your breakfast before the bus comes.” She rushes out of the kitchen just as Kylie rushes in. Kylie barely has time to step out of the way. “Don’t forget your poster,” Mom says as she passes.
    “That’s where that is!” Kylie says, rolling it back up. I half expect her to thank me but, of course, she doesn’t know the trouble I just saved her. She tucks it under her arm, waves good-bye to Dad, and runs out the back door. Hmm. Interesting. She forgot her lunch. I guess the thing with the poster distracted her from what she would normally have done. I gulp down my juice and then grab both our lunches.
    “Bye, Dad! Feel better.”
    “Not so fast,” he says, then coughs a few times. “I know for a fact Kylie didn’t leave that poster in here last night. She left it on the coffee table in the den. I brought it in this morning.”
    I feel my cheeks grow hot. “Oh?”
    “Not that it really matters. A good deed is a good deed.”
    “Right! Gotta go.”
    “I’ve got my eye on you,” he says playfully, wagging his finger.
    “Er, okay, Dad! Bye!” I run out before I manage to mess up again. When I reach the bus stop I hand Kylie her lunch. Now that I know what depths of meanness she’s capable of when crossed, it pays to stay on her good side. Even if she won’t remember it tomorrow.
    “Thanks,” she mutters, stuffing the paper bag into her backpack.
    We stand in silence. If I didn’t know her brain was consumed with thoughts of Dustin and the dance, I’d be annoyed that she’s still not wishing me a happy birthday. But when I think about it, on that first birthday she had lost the guy, lost half her grade in science, and still gotdressed up for my party. That must mean she doesn’t totally hate me. The bus pulls up and as the doors open, I wish I could find a way to shield her from seeing Dustin with his arm around Alyssa. But nothing comes to me that wouldn’t lead to her figuring out I read her diary.
    And I know how
that
ends.
    I want to share my good mood with someone other than an empty seat. So when Stephanie gets on, I stand up and wave so she can’t help but see me. She smiles and then glances quickly at Ruby, who glares at me. I wonder fleetingly if Stephanie is still going to choose Ruby over me. She doesn’t. And even though she spends the whole ride talking about gymnastics and the fun things we’ll do when we’re best friends with Mena and Heather and Jess, I’m still happy that she chose me. Especially since I know that once she makes the team and I don’t, that won’t be the case.
    When we get to my locker, I’m about to thank her for decorating it when she says, “Wow, that looks great! Who did it?”
    I crinkle my brows. “What do you mean? YOU did it!”
    She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t.”
    “But you told me you did.”
    “Huh? I swear, I didn’t decorate your locker. If you’d like me to take credit for it though, I’m happy to.”
    This is very weird. Why would she have lied about such a small thing? And it’s not like I can ask her since she obviously doesn’t remember lying about it.