11 Birthdays

Chapter Twenty-Three

As I push open the door to the auditorium, the swell of music fills my ears. I smile. If all of this hadn't happened, I would be trying out for the gymnastics team right now. But it did happen. And that's why I'm here.
        I give the musical director, Mr. Paster, my name and he assigns me a number. I join the others waiting to audition. The candidates fill up the first three rows of seats. Mr. Paster introduces himself to those of us who are new and tells us the results will be posted on Monday. Monday seems like an impossible dream. Will I ever see Monday again?
        It takes a while to get to my turn, and I enjoy listening to the other play their instruments. When my name is called I stand up a bit unsteadily and take the drumsticks that the kid before me thrusts into my hands. I roll them between my fingers as I swing the strap of the snare drum over my neck. I've never played a drum that wasn't attached to a set before, and doubt floods through me.
        "Please begin," Mr. Paster says.
        I nervously straighten the sheet music that is attached to the drum by a little metal stand. Then I close my eyes and pretend I'm back in the basement of that music store, just me, Leo, and the Larrys. I hear the sharp snaps of the drumsticks as they land on the surface of the drum and my feet itch to move. I can see why this is the drum for marching. I refrain from marching across the stage, through, and instead open my eyes and focus on following along with the sheet music. When I finish the last bar I'm almost sad to stop.

        "Thank you, Amanda," Mr. Paster says, making a mark in his notebook. I reluctantly hand the sticks over to the next person. I glance at my watch. Stephanie's mom should be here right about now. If I miss my ride home, I'm going to be late meeting Angelina and Leo. I run by the gym door just as Stephanie and Ruby emerge from it, sweaty and excited.
        "Amanda!" Stephanie shouts when she sees me. "Where were you? You missed the tryouts!"
        "No, I didn't," I reply. "I just tried out for the marching band instead."
        Her eyes grow wide. "You did?"
        Ruby laughs. "Good choice!"
        Stephanie steps in front of her to block her from me. "It's not going to be as much fun being on the team without you."
        "So you made it?" I ask, trying to act as surprised as I can after doing this so many times.
        She nods and can't help the grin spreading across her face. Ruby pops up with, "I made it too!"

        "I knew you would," I reply. "You're really good."
        Ruby doesn't answer right away, as though she's waiting for the punch line. But I just smile. She gives me a tentative smile in return.
        Stephanie's mom drops me off with about ten minutes to spare. I tiptoe past Dad asleep on the couch, and leave my bag by the stairs so he'll know I'm home if he wakes up before I'm back. I don't want him to worry about not being able to find me ever again.
        I slip out the back door as quietly as I can and run around to the side of the house. Angelina and Leo are already there. Leo is holding up two halves of my broken alarm clock. "Tough morning, eh?"

        "Oops, let me take that," I say, turning slightly red. Angelina is on her hands and knees, digging through the overgrowth. She's not afraid to get dirty, that one.
        "How were tryouts?" Leo asks as we wait for Angelina to resurface. "Make the team again?"
        I shake my head. "But I might have made the marching band."
        He grins. "Good job!"
        "Thanks. I mean, for getting me to play the other day, it really —"
        "You're welcome."
        "Got it!" Angelina crawls back out and holds up a big mound of dirt with a foot-tall plant sticking out of it. "This thing is hardy! It fell out of the pot when you threw it, but it took root in the soil. All we have to do is re-pot it and you two should be on your way to Saturday!"
        "Will they ever grow apples?" Leo asks.
        She shakes her head. "But that doesn't mean it's not an apple tree."
        "Does it have to be a real pot?" I ask, concerned that we don't have one.
        She shakes her head again. "As long as it's big enough to support it." She places the plant in my cupped hands. "Try not to throw anything else out the window, okay, dear?"
        "So what happens now?" Leo asks.
        "You celebrate your birthday, you make your toast, and we cross our fingers."
        "Will we see you again?" I ask, trying not to let too much loose soil slip between my fingers.