Before anything real could happen, one of the recess aids blew her horrible whistle. I can’t believe she saw us. We weren’t even in actual trouble. I’ve been way more scared other times in my life. Do you know what I mean? The aid walked fast toward the little forest and shouted, “I can’t believe this” at least three times. She hates it when we horseplay and do things she doesn’t understand. Sofie and I raised our arms and stepped back like they do in those cop shows when the police say that everything we say can be used against us. I looked back at my old BFFs, who were talking in the distance. Luckily, they were too busy talking to the kid who deals Pokémon cards to notice. I’m sure I didn’t ruin my chances of getting invited to Mary’s birthday party.
But I have to tell you something. I hope you don’t get mad. It has been bothering me since I first mentioned it. The truth is that I technically didn’t have a birthday party planned this year. I just didn’t want to face the fact that Sofie would probably be the only person in the whole entire world who would say yes to my invitation.
Instead of an actual party after school today, Sofie and I took extra pipe cleaners from the art room to make glasses, kind of like the Men in Black alien disguises. After that, we hid quietly in the fifth graders’ bathroom until all the other kids left school and the halls were totally empty. Finally, we walked a super-duper long way home.
We took a left on Military Road toward Mont Ripley, then a right, and then I took a minute to peek under the WELCOME TO HOUGHTON sign for letters while Sofie watched a small ship go by. Nothing was there waiting for me. I tried not to think about it too much as we crossed all the pretty university houses with funny Greek letters on them. We did maybe two TV shows worth of walking down that road to get to the forest of tall, skinny trees.
We mostly stayed quiet and kept on walking until we eventually found a path to the lake that didn’t have any scary NO TRESPASSING signs or empty vacation houses. There was nobody to watch us as we stepped into the tall grass and took off our itchy pipe cleaner disguises.
Sofie whispered, “This is the best birthday party ever,” when we finally got first sight of the water. I was so surprised she said that, I just stood there.
Sofie lifted her arms into the air until she was the same height as the tallest grass. Her tropical dress matched so nice that it looked like she grew out of the ground. She danced with the wind and the seagulls played along as they flew home, their wings hitting the air with a “swish-swish.” The last of summer’s dragonflies said goodbye. The song came from above, below, and places I have never been. I folded my pipe-cleaner glasses into my palms and lost track of my breathing. I hope it’s okay that I’m saying this.
I’m not sure how many wishes I’m supposed to get for my birthday, but in that moment with Sofie I decided this is going to be the year I wish for more. Maybe one day I’ll get brave enough to tell you what those wishes are. For now, maybe we can play this game I made up a long time ago. In this game, you call me Charlie or Sean. Alison could work too. My old friends didn’t like playing this so much, but I think it could be fun to try again.
Also, I know that I mentioned that whoever finds my balloons should leave letters to me underneath the WELCOME TO HOUGHTON sign, but it would also be nice if I found a letter at that lake we went to this afternoon. I don’t go there much because it feels so far away sometimes, but still. It’s called Portage Lake and it’s kind of shaped like a peanut. Just make sure you don’t send anything to Lake Superior. There are nice agate rocks there and coal ships fun to watch, but it’s just way too big to possibly find anything at all.
Sincerely,
Charlie Beck
Thursday, September 25, 1997
Dear Whoever Is Reading This,
I hope you’re having a good day. Today was Picture Day and it was actually the first time I could really notice my own growth, and not just in a height way. I put my hair into a braid without any help and picked out my own outfit. I even tied a silly first grader’s shoes for him.
My mom says I have enough clothes to choke a horse, but she always wants me to wear the same old bunny sweater and purple headband. I like bunnies and all, but you should know that it’s just not me and it never has been. So this morning, I told Mom that I accidentally lost both of them as soon as she opened my bedroom door. She crossed her arms when she saw me in my light green flannel instead. Mom said, “You can’t go to school looking like a ragamuffin.” I still don’t know what that means, but I said “Okay, then I can change” to make her go away.
Of course, I didn’t change. She doesn’t know that yet, though. And you have to cross your heart, hope to die, stick a needle in your eye, promise that you won’t tell anyone. It felt good to pretend that the sweater and headband went missing even though I actually know exactly where they are. They’re in my bottom dresser drawer, where also I keep my Rapunzel Barbie, old friendship bracelets, and the other things I pretend to lose. If we actually knew each other, I would just give them to you so my mom would never find them again.
Dad didn’t have anything to say about my outfit when I left the house because he was sleeping on the couch. That’s fine with me. I thought I looked great. That flannel shirt I chose for myself had nice white buttons and matched my tennis shoes just right, and the school gave us all free combs. We have more combs than textbooks I think. Some volunteer mom in a D.A.R.E. shirt gave them to us while we waited in line for the photographer, so we could look extra nice for Picture Day. Even so, I’ve decided already that I don’t want to share my picture with anyone when we get them back in a few weeks.
I know that I had my favorite flannel outfit, but my long hair makes me feel funny in a bad way. It’s just not how I want people to remember me. That’s why I tied my hair back into a braid to help me forget about it. Are you trying to forget about anything? Is it working for you? I’m just hoping that the D.A.R.E. mom doesn’t know my mom. I don’t want her telling on me for not looking “my best.”
I really wanted to put away that free comb that lady gave me, but my pants pockets were sewn shut. I will never understand why someone would make a decoration pocket. It seemed like I was there forever, standing with my dang comb while that lady helped the girls straighten their French braids and butterfly clips. The line for photos barely moved, and it wrapped all the way around and down the longest hallway at school. I tried to pass time by watching the boys make airplanes and swords with their special Picture Day combs. And meanwhile, two of the boys showed their Pokémon cards out in the open. It’s one thing to talk to the Pokémon dealer at recess, it’s another thing to bring it into the hallways, because the school principal calls it gambling. They actually had those shiny, holographic cards that you can’t even buy from vending machines. It was amazing.
One of the boys said, “Pokémon are stupid because they only know how to say their names.” If anything, I think it means that they are very smart because they know themselves so well. I don’t think he deserves to take care of those Pokémon. I should have expected it, though, because these are the same boys who spell teenage words into the school calculators. I wanted to say something about them breaking the rules, but I didn’t. Instead, I just counted the bricks on the wall. I know for a fact that one day all of their Pokémon will transform into something that will scare them, and I can’t wait for that day.