Thursday
"Oh, um...a party? I...dunno, Marco's birthday party is that night, Britt." I stuttered.
"Oh, come on, Star, he won't care. Honestly, he's kind of weird." Britney whispered.
My face fell a little. Yeah, of course Marco was weird. So was I, if you thought about it. "You can't sit with us anymore if you don't come." Britney said, flipping her layered black hair over her shoulders, her minions with the same haircut following suit.
I bit my lip, tasting strawberries from the lip gloss I'd begged my mom to buy me when Britney told me it was my "flavor" or something a few weeks ago. "Um...I'm sure that I can make it up to Marco. I mean, he'll have other birthdays, right?" I heard myself say. I regretted it the second the words exited my mouth.
Let me paint a picture of Marco Diaz, my best friend in the universe and my next door neighbor.
Marco and I have been friends since we were babies - and actually before that since our moms met while at a mommy and baby yoga class for pregnant women. I know, weird. So Marco was born in late August, and I was born in early September, for days later. And our moms, who had by then figured out they were neighbors, had us playing together when I was three days old.
So yeah, we grew up together. But come on, we can have other friends, right? We're in grade 7. And honestly, I love Marco to death, but he's just so....oblivious about girl stuff. And Britney is like...the perfect model of girl stuff.
And as an almost-thirteen year old girl, I need some feminine energy.
So back to Britney. "I mean, he'll have other birthdays, right?" I hear myself saying. Oh my God. Of course he'll have other birthdays, but not other THIRTEENTH birthdays.
On the other hand, I've been to every single one of Marco's birthdays. I can miss one!
Ugh, nobody told me being a girl would be so complicated.
"Great. Be there at seven." Britney said, leaving me in the hall contemplating whether I should go or not. I start walking down the sidewalk home, and stop in my tracks.
"Hey!" I heard, feeling hands cover my eyes. "GUESS WHO?"
"Marco, don't be a dork." I say, pinching his arm, which makes him let go.
"Hey, what gives, Posa? Can't I wish my best friend a happy birthday?" he says, rubbing his arm. I smile at the lame-o nickname he gave me in third grade. Since my last name is Butterfly (and no, I'm not joking, it seriously is), he called me "Mariposa" which meant butterfly in Spanish, and a few years ago was shortened to "Posa".
"Nothing," I sighed. How am I going to tell him? Don't be a baby, just tell him, Star. Rip off the bandage.
"So, you excited for our thirteenth birthday party on Saturday?" Marco said, smiling a brace-filled smile.
"Um..." I stutter. Of course, I tell myself, all of our parties are TOGETHER. "I...uh, don't know if I want to have a conjoined party this year."
"Posa..." He says, putting a hand under my chin and tilting my head so I'm looking him in the eyes. I can't force myself to look into his chocolate eyes, wide with disappointment. I feel like too much of a jerk. "Um, if you...really don't want to..." he stutters. "I...I mean, I guess, um...since you're...you know, a girl and all...I guess it could be awkward, maybe."
I still can't look him in the eyes, and my feet are becoming less and less interesting each second I stare at them, so I examine my colorful fingernails.
"Star, look at me, please." he protests. I shake my head.
"I can't." I say.
"Why not?" he asks, and I can tell he's getting irritated.
"I just can't, okay?" I say, turning to go into my house. He grabs my wrist.
"Tell me." he says.
"I can't."
"Star, for god's sake, what on earth is so important?" he says.
"I want to go to Britney's party instead!" I scream, freeing his grasp on my wrist and slamming my front door. I peek out through the curtains on the window, and I see him mutter something, throw something on the ground, start crying, and walk home. When I'm pretty sure he's gone and not watching, I go outside and pick up the box he'd thrown on the ground, and bring it inside, placing it on my desk.
Friday
That was Thursday night. Friday, I sat at Britney's table for lunch, and she talked pretty much the entire time about Justin, an admittedly cute eighth grader but definitely not my type. Marco and I walked home on opposite sides of the sidewalk.
I don't know what he did, but I went up to my room and buried my face in my comforter sobbing.
Saturday(and sort of Sunday morning)
Saturday came far too soon. I looked out my window and saw his parents setting up his party decorations, and I felt guilty packing my bag for Britney's party, and I felt even more guilty for raiding my mom's bathroom for makeup, of all things, just to look 'cool' in front of the other girls. "You don't even wear makeup," my subconscious said along with Marco in early August when Britney told me to get lip gloss.
"It's not really makeup, Marco. It's like...Chapstick, just sparkly and more liquidy." I'd protested.
Yeah right, twelve-year-old me.
I finished zipping my bag, noticing Marco outside, working hard to set up a banner.
I looked around, spotting the box on my dresser and putting it in my bag.
"Just in case." I told myself.
My mom drove me to Britney's house, and I felt guilty the entire ride. I was given a warm welcome before my mother drove away, and then I was pushed inside with the rest of the girls there.
"Let's play truth or dare." Britney said after we'd all gotten into her older sister's prom dress collection, which I will admit was kind of entertaining.
"Star," she asked me, "Truth or dare?"
I blushed. She was going to ask something super embarrassing if I said truth, and then if I picked dare it'd probably something really awkward, like lick my own armpit or something. At least, that's how Marco and Alfonzo and Ferg play.
"Uh...truth." I said.
Britney gave me a smile I could have sworn looked evil. "So are you like...dating Marco yet?"
My cheeks heated up, and I started blushing. "What? No, no way." I said, trying to picture such a thing.
"But why not? He's like, adorable." one of the girls said, causing several others to giggle.
"Okay, um...Hope." I said, passing the truth or dare chain along.
It felt like every time someone completed one of my dates or answered my questions, it went back to me. And I kept picking truth, even though they kept asking the most awkward and embarrassing questions I could think of.
I was getting tired of revealing all of my secrets, so when I was asked again I did something I would normally never do.
This time I picked dare.
"I dare you to kiss Marco." Britney said, causing a bunch of giggle fits, and causing me to turn ghostly white, like enough to make my freckles stand out.
"Wh...what?" I stuttered. "No way. I can't do that."
"You picked dare, you have to!" one of the girls squealed.
"Like...on the cheek?" I squeaked out.
"No. Like, on the lips." Britney said.
My fear was confirmed. I mean, of course I've kissed him before on the cheek, but like...never...actually kissed him.
"I can't. I'm too much of a chicken." I said, hiding my face.
"Fine, whatever." Britney scoffed. I could tell she was mad, so I took a break from the game and decided to look through my bag for makeup, in an attempt to change the game.
I ended up pulling out the little box that'd been on my dresser, and I set it aside, pulling my knees close to my chest to hide it, and pulling a little card off of the top.
"Posa," it read, "I want you to know that you've impacted me in ways you could never know. You'll always be something special to me, now here's something special for you."
The last four words of the card made me gasp, and thankfully nobody heard. "I love you, Marco."
I pulled the ribbon off of the box, taking off the lid and seeing a silver necklace with a butterfly-shaped pendant.
I smiled, undoing the clasp and fastening it around my neck.
The girls had decided to give each other makeovers, and I figured it was my cue to leave, so I called my mom, asking if she'd take me home.
She couldn't have gotten there soon enough.
"Britney, I'm sorry for leaving, but I need to do something really important." I said as I walked out the door.
"Don't bother sitting with us at lunch, weirdo." she dismissed me, slamming her door in my face.
I got home, not even bothering to change out of my pajamas, but getting out of the car and going upstairs to grab something I'd been working on for weeks.
It took 20 minutes to hang up, and another ten to hang the lights and turn them on, but I was satisfied with my work, and knocked on the door to Marco's room that led outside.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and came to the door, pushing it open and glaring at me. "What time is it?"
"Who cares. Come on, I have something to show you." I said, pulling him over to the perfect spot to see my banner and the Christmas tree lights illuminating it.
"Happy birthday, dork?" he said, looking at me quizzically.
"Exactly." I said, and before I knew what I was doing I grabbed his shirt collar, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my lips against his. He was startled but after a second he didn't struggle so much.
"I love you too." I whispered afterwards.
We stood there awkwardly for a while, and my hands gradually lowered around his neck, and his hands made their way around my waist.
I'm not sure who took the first step, but eventually we were dancing. In the backyard, under Christmas lights, at about midnight.
It would have seemed awkward to anyone watching, but in the moment it was perfectly romantic.
