Thirteen

Dear diary,

I am counting the days until my birthday party on Saturday. I am so excited. I can’t wait!

Since it will be on my actual birthday, I thought I would invite twelve friends. Grandma being her superstitious self, she told mom that I should have less people come over. She thinks something bad might happen. I don’t agree.

Today, during recess, I double checked who was coming. Everyone said yes. Even Alex, who lives far from us. She said her mom is a terrible driver and might need the directions to my house in case they get lost.

It’s my birthday and these are my best friends in the whole world. Mom and dad kept their promise. They said that if I keep my grades in school, I could have—literally—anything I wanted this year.

So this is it! We will have tons of activities and then a sleepover. Tracy said she and I should have matching pjs.

There won’t be any boys at the party. Kev has asked to go spend the weekend at his friend Mat’s. I am not sure if he is still going. When I told him that Tracy was coming over, he blushed. I know he has a secret crush on her, but I won’t tell.  

Earlier today, dad picked me up after school. We got more stuff at Party City. Since it will be a costume celebration, I convinced him to buy a few more. They were on sale. This way, if anyone shows up at my party without one, they’ll be in for a treat.

Mom thinks we should plan most activities outside. She will organize the snacks on the dinner table there. I overheard her last night talking on the phone with grandma. She said something like, “….the cake at Baskin Robbins. You know that’s her favorite plate. You’re picking it too? Oh gosh, you will be saving me from a trip to the mall!”

I was just walking by. She moved to the living room and kept talking. I acted as if I did not hear anything, but I wonder what she meant about Baskin-Robbins.

For this birthday, I only have three wishes.

One, that we have so much fun that my entire Middle School talks about it and that Stacey and her gang, the mean girls, leave us alone.

Two, that it does not rain to ruin our activities.

And three, that Mr. Shlomo does not start complaining about the noise and call the police –just like he did at Christmas when we hosted some friends—and say later he did not know we would have so many strangers come over.

I had almost forgotten about that incident.  The other day, I caught him looking through his window, with those thick big glasses.  We were having dinner on the patio. I saw him looking and kicked Kev in the legs under the table to show him, but it was too late. We share the same kitchen wall and part of the deck. It was as if he was eavesdropping on our conversation.

He is always at home and never comes out, except to get his groceries that get delivered to him. All he does is to complains all day long about us. I think he hates kids.

Kev and I call him “four eyes.” I know, it is not nice, but he looks so creepy! There’s something about his look that scares me.  I was just seven when we moved to this house. He was already living next door, but I’ve never seen him up close. My parents keep inviting him over, but he never shows up. I wonder why.

The kids in the neighborhood keep saying that the reason why he doesn’t socialize with anyone is that he killed his family and doesn’t want to be caught by the police. I don’t think that is true, if not he won’t be calling them on us because we are noisy neighbors.

I also that is mean to say about someone we don’t know. I think something very sad happened to him. One day, mom was whispering something about him. All I could hear was “so sad and tragic.” Maybe I’ll get to know one day, when I am older, as she always says.  

For now, all I want is to have a good time. On Saturday, we will hang balloons around the house and outside. My bedroom will be our dress-up corner. I got extra tiaras, boas, accessories, and even have the playlist of all my favorite party songs ready.  

Tracy and I will be in charge. She said her dad can drop her off early, in the morning. I hope she gets here just after we finish breakfast so we can start decorating the house in pink and purple. I almost forgot about her seasonal allergies. The flowers in the garden are in full bloom. I hope she can be outside for the activities.

For Mr. Shlomo, I am praying everything works out. Dad already went over to his house to let him know about my party. This time, he won’t be able to say he did not know. I am now officially a teenager, and he will need to deal with that!

--Libby

[Entry three days later]

Dear diary,

Yesterday went by so fast. I did not get that much sleep because everything I had wanted happened, but it was better than I had expected.

First, Tracy’s dad dropped her off soon after mine had cleared our driveway. Mandy came right after lunch. The last one to get here was Alex, as expected. Mom looked mortified at the thought that her mom could not follow her directions.  

It doesn’t matter. All my friends showed up, ready to have fun. We did great at decorating the place in pink and purple, my favorite colors. Kev turned into our butler for the occasion and our DJ.

Mom, grandma, and some of the parents who could stay for a bit stayed in the kitchen, others were went snooping around on the deck to check the party table. By then, dad was long gone to play golf. Before leaving, he said he would be back just in time for dinner. He promised his famous spaghettis to my friends. They had all asked for that.

We first had a fashion show. My bedroom was like a Barbie makeover station. I had sneaked some of mom’s makeup and hair spray from her bathroom to my room. We had our hair, nails and makeup done. Then, we walked downstairs, like models.

When we all got ready, Tracy gave the signal to Kev to start the music. He turned it up very loud so everyone could notice the party was officially starting! We walked down the stairs, straight to the kitchen and out on the deck. We looked amazing.  

By the time our fashion show was over, everyone was thirsty. We all sat down around the table to get something to drink. We had a choice of lemonade, water, cupcakes—my favorites from the bakery down the street—cotton candy, and fruit skewers. The pizzas had not yet been delivered, grandma had brought the birthday cake. It was exactly what I suspected. We put it in the fridge to serve later.  

Suddenly, the music went up again. We hit the dance floor.

“Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na, ...”

Kev played Gwen Steffani’s “Rich Girl.” The music was blasting on both sides of the deck.  

Maria, the best dancer among all my friends, started moving her hands. We picked our boas while Amanda adjusted her tiara then put on her sunglasses. In the meantime, poor Tracy was blowing her nose and trying to follow us. Her allergies had kicked in.

It did not matter who knew the lyrics, we made them up and added a few more words.  

This was by one of the best moments of the party. It was so hot too!

At some point, mom came out to take some photos—memories as she kept saying—with her phone camera. We posed for her and acted silly when our favorite part of the song came.

“I'd dress them wicked

I'd give them names (yeah)

Love, angel, music, baby

Hurry up and come and save me

We were loud and carefree, at least for a few moments. My birthday couldn’t have been better than this day.

Then, to work up an appetite—still waiting for the Domino’s pizza delivery—we decided to have a scavenger hunt.

Everyone had to find hidden a pink bow around the house. I was explaining the rules of the games, telling everyone where they were allowed to look and where not to go, when Kev pulled the volume way up, clapping to ask us to start dancing again.

I know, my brother can be cool sometimes, but this was NOT the time.  

“…Come run, run, run, run; Everybody move, run...”

We danced on the tempo, moved in circles, clapping our hands together. I think the entire neighborhood could hear us sing out loud. Without realizing it, we were also being watched.

This is how we got in trouble.

Something told me to look to the side and check on our grumpy neighbor.

There he was.

At the window.

Giving us the look.

My friends kept singing out loud. I got a drink and swallowed it as fast as I could before joining everyone on the floor. When the song got to this part,

“Hey, Mr

Please, Mr. DJ

Tell me if you hear me

Turn the music up”

Mr. Shlomo came outside. He stood there, straight, like a general about to inspect his troops. He was clearly not happy.

This was the first time I saw him so close. He was much taller than I had imagine. He had gigantic feet. I kept staring at his shoes.

Mom must have noticed something because she flew out the kitchen. Before she could even gesture to Kev to put the volume down, it was dead silence.  

We sat down, looking down, knowing we were in trouble.

I felt sweat running down my back. For a second, I thought my party would be over.

“I told you children to NOT make any noise around here,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Oh dear, oh dear. Hello, Mr. Shlomo! I am so sorry. We will put the volume down right away,” mom said, looking in Kev’s direction. 

“Mrs. Munroe,” he replied, taking a step back.

Then mom explained, “Perhaps you forgot. The other evening, my husband stopped by your house to let you know that our daughter, Libby, would be having her friends over this afternoon. It’s her birthday!”

“Yes, yes, I remember that. Your husband did tell inform me. I appreciated that, a lot. Vert considerate of you.”

I don’t know how, but somehow everything changed, like magically. No one saw this coming.

“Would you like to join us? How about some lemonade, cake, fresh fruits?”

Believe or not, grumpy “old eyes” accepted mom's invitation. To my party! She played her charm on him and he stayed for a short while.

Later, when we told dad he couldn’t believe it.

As grandma said, Mr. Shlomo broke “the curse” of having thirteen people around.

He sat with us girls at the table. Then, he stood up, excusing himself. I saw him entering his house from the kitchen door which was left open. A few minutes later, he came back out with a gift back in his hand.

He nervously gave it to me saying “happy birthday,” and then smiled.

I was stunned. First, he showed up uninvited. We all thought it was about the noise we made on the deck. Then, he had a piece of cake. He had two servings and kept moving his hands to the beat of the music, which was now playing on low volume. And finally, he even had a present for me.

When the pizzas were delivered—finally— I sat next to him. He told me that he was happy for me and that I was lucky to have nice parents who would allow me to have such a party. Then, he looked sad.

“Do you have a family, Mr. Shlomo?”

I was a bit nervous about asking him this, but I couldn’t help myself. I was curious and this was my chance to ask. I also thought, what the heck it’s my party and he is here, seating next to me, we can just talk.

He shook his head. I wanting to ask him why when he said this.

“Many years ago, my son, his wife and my grandmother were on their way here, to visit me for thanksgiving. A truck hit their car. It was a drunk driver. They all died in that accident. Both cars crashed.”

By the time he finished telling me about his story, I noticed that his thick glasses were foggy.

Now I get it why mom said, “so tragic.”

I put my slice of pizza back on my plate and said nothing more to him until he decided to leave us.

The fact that Mr Shlomo had not killed anyone changed everything. I wouldn’t know what that might looked like anyway. I felt sorry for him because he no one to visit him. Maybe he was jealous that we always had people over.

I felt so bad about all the things Kev and I said about him.

Before leaving us, he told me one more thing about him. His granddaughter’s name was Olivia. We shared the same birthday and that’s why he wanted to try to show up at mine.

He gave me a hug—one of those that only grandparents give—long, forever holding you tight. I promised to visit him soon. He said that would make him very happy. I am sure he meant it because his glasses cleared up. After that, he quickly disappeared in his house.

Who knew?!

Later, I opened my presents with all my friends sitting in circle. They took turn to hand me their gifts and looked at my reaction unwrapping them. I really like them all.

Just as I was about to open the last one, dad called us to come down and have some dinner. He made his famous spaghetti. I wasn’t that hungry but made some effort to eat. I wanted to go back upstairs with my friends. Everyone was curious to know what Mr. Shlomo had bought me.

In the end, and as grandma said, he gave me his most precious present: his time and love.

All night I kept feeling bad about all the mean things the kids, including myself, have ever said about him. Starting today, I will stop by.

Now that all my friends have left, I think I will write a special thank-you card for Mr Shlomo.

He made my day and thirteen is my forever lucky number!

--Libby