Natalie and the Downside-Up Birthday (5 page)

“Nat, are you sure you don’t want me to help you carry in your treats?” Mommy asks.

“No thanks. I can do it myself.” I saw other birthday kids carry in their own parties.

We are in Buddy in the school car parking lot. I’m trying to climb out of the backseat. Only my backpack is full of juice boxes and napkins. And I have two big plastic boxes of cupcakes to carry.

Jason, my bestest friend who is a boy, and not my boyfriend, runs by the car. Then he runs back. He is a runner boy. “Happy birthday, Nat!” he shouts.

“Thanks, Jason.”

“Maybe Jason can help you carry things in,” Mom says.

Jason must hear her ’cause he sticks out his arms for me to put something in. Only his feet are still moving. He is not a standing-still boy. Plus he is sometimes a dropping-things boy. On account of he runs everywhere.

I don’t want to give Jason my fancy cupcakes. “Would you carry my backpack?” I ask Jason.

“It’s purple!” he shouts. “Purple is a girl color.” He holds his nose. “I can’t touch purple.”

“Oh, all right.” I hand Jason both boxes of cupcakes. Then I take one back. “Be careful, Jason. Promise?”

“Don’t worry!” Jason shouts. He is also a shouter boy. “I won’t let anybody steal these cupcakes! I am the cupcake police!” He takes off running.

“Wait!” I holler.

“Natalie?” Mom rolls down Buddy’s window. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Only I’m not so sure about that. I’m watching Jason run a whole circle around Buddy. “Careful, Jason,” I say when he comes by me again.

“Well, have a happy birthday party. Okay?” Mom starts up Buddy.

I wave good-bye to Mom and Buddy. Then I try to catch up with Jason. Only I don’t want to run and shake up my cupcakes.

Jason is way ahead of me. He’s running on the sidewalk toward school. He dodges a bigger boy. He races around a littler girl.

“I am a cupcake cop!” Jason shouts.

“Don’t run, Jason!” I shout at him. But he is really far ahead of me now. “Jason!” I yell louder.

Jason turns back around to face me. Only his feet can’t stop running. He’s running backwards. “Your
cupcakes are safe with me, Nat!”

But I see what’s behind Jason. And Jason doesn’t see what’s behind Jason. There is a Jason-sized boy walking very slow up the sidewalk. His back is to Jason. Their backs are getting closer and closer on account of Jason is running backwards.

“Jason, look out!” I cry.

Crash!

Jason smacks into the other boy’s back.

The boy falls down. Jason’s feet fly up off the sidewalk. He tips backwards. Then he crashes on top of the other boy.

I watch the white plastic box of cupcakes fly out of Jason’s hands. It sails up, up, up, and then does a Slinky-flip down into a pile of dirty, used snow.

“My cupcakes!” I scream.

I run for those cupcakes. Only then I remember I have cupcakes too. So I hug my box of cupcakes and walk really fast—only careful—to that snow pile.

Jason is okay. He gets there before I do. He reaches for the cupcake box.

“Don’t touch it!” I yell. I pick up the box and brush off the snow.

“Cool!” Jason shouts. “The top didn’t even come off. We still got cupcakes in there.”

Only the cupcakes are down-side up. “They’re all smushed.” My neck is chokey, looking at those smushy things. Some are stuck to the box. “They’re ruined!”

“They look okay to me.
I’ll
eat ’em,” Jason says. He reaches for the box.

I jerk it away from him. The cupcakes
thud
against the box. Some are sticking to the lid. I stick the box of ruined cupcakes under the box of still-good cupcakes. I make a frowny face at Jason, then stomp away.

Jason whizzes past me. He doesn’t say sorry. He
runs into school without holding the door open for me to get in.

I have to stand at the door until a kid comes out. Then I scoot into school with my boxes of cupcakes. A smushed box. And a not-smushed box.

“Happy birthday, Nat!” Laurie yells up the hall. When she reaches me, she asks, “What’s the matter?”

“Jason.” I have to swallow the chokey in my neck. “He dropped my cupcakes. They’re all smushed.”

Laurie peeks in at the top cupcakes. “They look great, Nat.”

“Not those. The underneath ones.”

Laurie peeks in at those underneath cupcakes. “They’re pretty smushed, all right. But you’ve got so many cupcakes. You can pass out the good ones first. Most kids will just take one.”

“Yeah?” I didn’t know this. I always take two.

“Yeah!” Laurie takes both boxes from me. I let her. On account of she is not a running girl or a dropping-things girl.

Laurie and I walk into our classroom. Kids run up to see what we brought.

“Don’t the cupcakes look great!” Laurie says, keeping the not-smushed box on top of the smushed one.

I look around the room to see if Sasha’s here yet with
her
cupcakes. I spot her by Ham the Hamster’s cage. Everybody else is checking out my cupcakes, except for Sasha. I don’t see any other cupcakes in this room. What if Sasha doesn’t have birthday cupcakes?

I feel a tiny bit of sad for Sasha. Maybe her mother made her save up all that grocery-store food for her real birthday. Maybe Sasha doesn’t have party cupcakes for kindergarten. If I didn’t have party cupcakes, even smushed ones, I would feel bad. That’s what.

I ask Jesus about this. On account of he’s in this kindergarten place too. Not just in church. Or at the HyKlas. Then I decide I will let Sasha pass out some of my cupcakes.

Maybe the smushed ones.

I take another look at Sasha. She’s still all alone with Ham. Maybe she can help pass the not-smushed cupcakes too.

Anna and Farah crowd in closer. They stare in at the top cupcakes, which have many sprinklies on there to hide my frosting goof-ups.

“The cakes are beautiful,” Farah says. I like how Farah talks. Her words sound more beautifuller than most kids’. Like she picks out each word from a special place before she lets the word out of her mouth.

“Thanks, Farah,” I tell her. “Granny and I used lots of sprinklies.”

“You
made
these?” Anna asks. “Did you get to lick the bowl?”

“Yep.”

Laurie sets the cupcakes down on the edge of the teacher’s desk. Miss Hines waves to us. But she’s busy getting kids out of their coats.

Sasha finally comes over to look. She stares at the box of not-smushed cupcakes. But her frowny face looks like she’s staring at the smushed cupcakes.

Laurie says, “I think these cupcakes are the most gorgeous cupcakes I’ve ever seen.”

Sasha makes a noise that could be an evil laugh. “That’s because you haven’t seen
my
cupcakes yet.”

“What are
you
bringing for
your
class party, Sasha?” Bethany asks.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Sasha answers.

“How come you didn’t bring in your own cupcakes, like Nat did?” Laurie asks.

“There was too much for me to carry,” Sasha answers. “My mother has to drive in with all of our classroom party stuff later. She’s going to help Miss Hines put on the party.”

This is a very not-fair thing.
My
mother doesn’t get to be a party-putting-on-er.

“Class?” Miss Hines walks to the front of the room. She gets very big in her eyes when she sees my cupcake box.

“Mmm…looks good,” Miss Hines says. She puts the boxes behind her desk, where we can’t see them. “Now, I’d like you to take your seats, please.”

“Take ’em where?” Jason shouts. He has said this joke a gazillion times.

So I don’t bother laughing. Plus also, I’m still aggravated at Jason for ruining my cupcakes.

“I think we should start our day by singing
‘Happy Birthday’ to our birthday buddies, don’t you?” Miss Hines says.

I want to tell her that I don’t have a birthday buddy. I want to tell her that it’s no fair that Sasha’s mother is bringing more food than Sasha can carry.

Miss Hines stands in front of her giant desk. “Sasha and Natalie, will you girls please stand up so we can sing to you?”

This is one of those questions we’re not supposed to answer. Sasha is already standing up. I stand up.

Miss Hines starts off the singing.

But everybody else takes over.

From the other side of the room, I hear Jason’s shouting voice. He is singing his own words to this
song: “Happy Smurf-Day! Tee-hee! You’re as blue as can be. You need glasses to see. Happy Smurf-Day! Tee-hee!”

It makes me laugh to hear Jason’s made-up words. Until I remember I’m aggravated at that shouting boy.

The singing is done, so I sit down. Several kids turn around and say, “Happy birthday!” at me. I am kinda feeling like a birthday girl again.

Sasha is still standing up. “Miss Hines?”

“Yes, Sasha,” says our teacher.

“I have an announcement,” Sasha says.

She can’t make a ’nouncement.
Teachers
make ’nouncements. Sasha is
not
our teacher.

I wait for Miss Hines to tell Sasha this.

Only Miss Hines doesn’t. She says, “Well…”

And Sasha goes ahead and says her ’nouncement anyway. “I’d just like to say that we’re going to have the best birthday party ever in this class when my mother gets here.”

“That’s fine, Sasha,” Miss Hines says. “You can take your seat—”

“
And
,” Sasha goes on instead of taking her seat, “tomorrow I’m having a
real
birthday party.”

I
am having a
real
birthday party tomorrow too. Before right now, I didn’t even think about Sasha’s party and my party being on the same day. Now I
am thinking about this. I wonder if Sasha will come to my party first. Or last. Or if maybe the parties are at the same time.

Sasha is still talking. “I’ll be inviting some of you. But not all of you. I can only invite fifteen kids to my party. My mother is sorry about that. She says it’s the party planner’s rule and not hers.” Sasha makes a smiley face all around the room.

“So don’t feel so bad if you don’t get an invitation. There would be too many of us for the horse rides if everybody came.”

A couple of kids gasp.

“Horse rides?” Bethany repeats.

“And the jumping boxes,” Sasha adds.

“Cool!” Peter yells.

Miss Hines’s eyes turn to lines. “Sasha, this is not the place to—”

“I’m almost done,” Sasha says. She holds up a bunch of letters that look like they have Christmas cards inside. “Not everybody in this room will get one of these. But at least you’ll have a super party today when my mother gets here.” She takes one of the invitations and hands it to Peter.

A gazillion hands go up to get one of those things.

“Stop!” Miss Hines walks back to Sasha’s desk. “Take your seat, Sasha.”

Finally, Sasha does.

“I don’t want you passing out invitations in this classroom. Do you understand me?” Miss Hines has her mean-teacher voice on. She turns to the whole class. “Quiet. We have work to do.”

She has to say this on account of kids are whispering. It sounds like bumbly bees in here.

Only I am not bumbly. I am not whispering. I am thinking in my head.

My brain is seeing that big purple cake in the grocery store. Only now it has Sasha’s name on it. She’s getting a big, purple grocery-store birthday cake for her party.

And I’m not.

Sasha is having jumping boxes at her party.

And I’m not.

Sasha is having horse rides at her party.

And I’m not.

Real
horse rides. With horses that aren’t plastic and yellow and don’t need quarters to make them move.

I look around our classroom. Sasha is having the kind of birthday party every kid in kindergarten will want to go to.

And I’m not.