Chapter 11

I'm bored.

And I know that's not very nice, so I keep it to myself and pretend I'm having a good time, and wouldn't rather be hanging out with Jeremy in his room, watching X2,and reading his new comics together.

Izzy got a karaoke machine for her birthday. She and Kasey, a girl from our class who lives down the road, are singing to "Sk8er Boi" by Avril Lavigne in the corner of the garage where everything's been set up. I got my turn earlier, after we ate pizza, but no one seemed to like the song I picked, not like they've been loving what she and the other girls have been choosing.

Izzy only invited a couple of other boys, aside from Will, Waylon, and me, and I've never really talked to either of them. They're nice, I guess—TJ and Shane. They play football, so they're the popular kids, and all the girls here seem to be wanting to impress them. Even Izzy, when she's with Kasey and her friends, gets weird when they're around.

Right now, they're standing over by the snack table, watching Izzy sing.

They better not be making fun of her. She can't really sing that well, but it's okay, because she's really good at piano. Way better than me, which makes me jealous a lot. But I know I sing better, so I guess we're even.

Still, I don't like this. She's my friend, not theirs. They don't even know her, not really, not like Waylon and me. Not like Jeremy. I wish she didn't even invite them—I wish we just kept it to the four of us, like it was for Jeremy's party earlier. Then he could've stayed, and wouldn't have felt like he had to go be alone in his room.

Well, Will can be here. He's cool, and I think even Jeremy would like him if he gave him a chance. Will likes good music—Tom Petty and AC/DC are some of his favorites—and he's funny. Even Waylon likes him, and Waylon doesn't like anybody.

Except for Izzy and me and Jeremy, of course.

And the only reason he stopped hating me, is 'cause one day after school, not too long after I moved here, when we were hanging out here at the Montgomery's, he'd bumped into a table and broken a vase.

He looked like he was gonna cry or puke—maybe both—so when Izzy's mom rushed in to see what happened, I took the blame, and Izzy backed me up, saying it was an accident. Which it was…

But Waylon was clearly scared he'd get in trouble anyway.

Later that night, after Waylon had gone home, Izzy told me his dad's a lot stricter, being a cop and all. She said Waylon gets grounded a lot.

And she wasn't wrong. He almost couldn't come over today because he failed a test last week. But Mrs. Montgomery called his dad and talked him into changing his mind.

In the garage, I twist around, looking across the table to where Waylon sits now, scowling and red-faced. Next to him, Will is making funny, exaggerated faces as he sings along to the song.

Waylon mutters something under his breath, and Will pauses to stick his tongue out at him, before continuing, this time singing it to Waylon.

I snicker as Waylon curls inward, trying to hide, and I start singing it to him too, belting it as loud as I can go. He shakes his head, and hides his face in his arms on the table.

When the song fades, and some girl's yelling out another song title, one I don't know, but instantly recognize the beat of when it starts playing a second later—it's a song that plays on the radio all the time—I glance over at Will and Waylon. They're no longer paying me any attention, so I push away from the table and make my escape.

I feel around in my pocket, making sure the small, wrapped bundle of tissue paper is still there.

Inside the house, in the kitchen, Mrs. Montgomery is washing dishes. She turns around when she hears me come in through the sliding glass doors.

"Hey, buddy."

"Hi," I say.

"Heading upstairs?"

I nod, and she smiles.

"Here. Take this up." She turns toward the island, and cuts two small pieces of Izzy's cake, plating them.

I tell her thanks, and head for the stairs.

It's quiet. Not even the music from the garage can be heard from up here. Light peeks out from Jeremy's room, the first door on the right, where the door is cracked open.

Not having any free hands, I shoulder it open, not bothering to knock. "Hey."

Jeremy whirls around from where he was sitting at his desk. He slams his sketchbook closed. It's the blue one. He never lets anyone see what's in that one, not even me.

"Hey," he says so quietly, I barely even hear it. Standing up, he comes over, sucking his cheeks in as his eyes dart between the cake in my hands and my face.

Without a word, he takes one from me, and moves to his bean bag propped up against the foot of his bed.

"How's the party?" he asks, picking at the cake with the ends of his fork.

I shrug, plopping down on the floor next to him, crossing my legs. "It's okay," I say, taking a big bite of cake. Mouth full, I say, "The girls took over the karaoke machine."

Jeremy smiles, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

He finally starts eating his cake, which makes me relax. I try not to draw attention to it, that I'm watching. But after last year, when he got all skinny and sick, I get worried it'll happen again, even though he's a lot happier now that he's homeschooled and no longer has to deal with people picking on him.

"What were you drawing?" I ask when I'm finished with my cake. I set the plate on the floor next to me.

He shrugs and mumbles, "Stuff."

"Your comic book?"

He nods, his gaze downcast.

I wish he'd show me. I can't draw at all. I think it's so cool he's doing his own comic book, but he never shows me anything but the pictures he draws of superheroes that already exist, like Spider-Man and the X-Men and Avengers and stuff.

He even made me a Captain America picture for my birthday last year. It's taped up on my bedroom wall with my other posters.

He finishes most of his cake, leaving the icing.

I take it from him and scoop it up with my finger, finishing it for him. He hates icing, unless it's chocolate. I'll eat any kind.

"I got you something," I whisper.

I don't know why I'm whispering, or why I feel all nervous suddenly.

"You already got me a present," he says, finally looking up and meeting my gaze with a frown.

I swallow, and it goes down rough. Shrugging a shoulder, I wipe my hands on my jeans, reach into my pocket, digging out the bundle of tissue paper.

"Well, yeah," I say, "but that was your main present. Like for your party."

His eyebrows scrunch together, eyes dropping to where I hold out the white crumpled tissue paper.

"It's kind of lame," I say, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. "I found it at the flea market Mom took me to a couple weeks ago."

He nods, taking it from me, staring down at it like he's worried it's going to blow up or something.

"I just… It made me think of you."

The second the words leave me, my face grows hot.

"Well, not you, exactly."

He's opening it, and when he sees what's inside, his frown deepens even more. Pinching the silver ring between his fingers, he looks up at me and says, "Captain America?"

Jaw tight, I nod jerkily.

"But he's your favorite. Don't you want it?"

"I have a shield. It's on my wall."

He nods. He knows this. He's seen it the couple times he's come over. It's bigger than my head. It was a birthday gift from Gavin and Linda last year.

"But you don't," I whisper. "You don't have a shield."

His eyes widen like maybe he finally gets what I'm trying to say, and he looks down at the ring—it's a thin silver band, with a small circle where normally a diamond would be, made up of red and white rings, surrounding a blue inner circle and a white star at its center.

"A shield," he says.

"When I was little, Mom used to put my headphones on me so I wouldn't hear her and Dad fighting in the other room." I bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around myself. "I used to pretend they were magical—had powers—like the Infinity Gauntlet, Green Lantern's power ring, the Crimson Gem, Captain America's shield…" I take a breath. "I pretended the headphones made me invisible."

Jeremy peeks up at me through his hair.

"It made me feel better." I shrug again, and say, "Maybe when you feel scared, or like—like people are staring and stuff—you can wear that ring, and it'll keep people from getting through to you. Keep you safe. It'll do whatever you want it to do."

He holds it up, squinting, then slips it on his finger. It's way too big. Even for me. It's definitely for grown-ups.

But he doesn't seem to care. He squeezes his fingers together to make a fist so it doesn't slide off, and his whole face lights up, brighter than I think I've ever seen it. Suddenly I don't feel so lame or nervous or weird anymore.

"Thank you," he says, grinning the biggest grin I've ever seen him wear.

I grin back. "So you like it?"

He nods really fast, his cheeks turning pink.

He ducks his head, blond hair falling over his eyes. I'm glad he's growing it out again, now that he's homeschooled. I know he likes it like this. When it was short, he was always brushing his hands over his head, like he'd wanted to bring it over his eyes, but couldn't because it wasn't long enough.

Turning toward the TV, I say, "Wanna?—"

There's a knock, and we both whirl around to find his Mom standing in the threshold with a glass of water.

"They're about to open presents," she says, and I nod, pushing myself up. I go to grab the plates, but she says, "Don't worry about that. I'll get them." She then extends the glass to Jeremy, as well as her other hand. Inside it is a small white pill.

His anxiety medicine.

In the corner of my eye, Jeremy stands up. He quickly stuffs the hand with the ring in his pocket, before removing it and taking the pill and water from his mom. The ring is no longer on his finger.

"I'll come up later and we can watch it?" I say. I'm staying the night tonight. Izzy will probably wanna try out the new sheet music she got, and as much as I want to learn new songs, I really wanna watch the movie more.

Jeremy flashes me a small smile and nods.

Mrs. Montgomery ruffles my hair as I pass her.

In the hallway, I hear her ask quietly, "Did you have a good birthday?"

"Yeah," I hear JJ say, "it was the best."

I'm grinning all the way back to the garage.

When Izzy spots me, she lights up and races over, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to where all her presents sit on the table, waiting to be opened.

"I wanna open yours first," she tells me, her cheeks turning pink, just like her brother's did. Must be another twin thing.

Nodding, I find the pink and black wrapping paper Mom had used to wrap my gift to Izzy.

The music is still playing—Kasey and her friend Jamie are now singing to some Britney Spears song. Will and Waylon are making their way over here. TJ and Shane are too.

"Maybe open it later," I say quietly, though I'm not sure why. She'll love it; Mom promised me she would. But I just feel weird suddenly.

Izzy frowns. "What? Why?"

I shake my head. "I don't know, never mind." My face feels hot, not unlike how it did upstairs in Jeremy's room. Except this time, it's 'cause there's all these people watching.

My pulse beats fast and loud in my ears, and I wring my hands together.

I wonder if this is how Jeremy always feels.

Sometimes I feel all tight and itchy and breathless too, but it's usually only later, when I'm by myself, thinking about things. Not when I'm around people.

Izzy tears through the wrapping paper, letting it fall to the ground. I smile a bit at that—at her excitement.

She stares at the small square box for a long beat, then pops it open.

She gasps when she sees what's inside—a thin silver chain with a treble clef pendant and a small pink diamond heart in the center.

Someone oohs, and I feel like I'm on fire.

Izzy snaps her head up, frizzy brown hair flying all over the place, and then she's throwing her arms around me. She smells like her soap and the lotion she likes—cherry blossom, I think she called it. She has a body spray too with that name on her dresser.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou," she rushes out. "I love it!"

When she pulls back, grinning up at me with pink cheeks and sparkling brown eyes that look reddish in the light, I can't help but think how pretty she is. Nose scrunched, eyes big and bright in the lights, hair hanging all around her face in frizzy waves.

I swallow tightly, and nod.

"It's my favorite thing ever," she says, and I inhale deeply, feeling relieved.

Whirling around, she shows her dad. "Look!"

He smiles and shoots me a wink. "It's perfect."

She then rushes off to show the girls, and I head over to where Will and Waylon are.

Waylon gives me a funny look.

"What?"

He rolls his eyes, just as Will starts singing, "Mason and Izzy, sittin' in a tre?—"

I shove him and he laughs, shoving me back.

I feel all hot and fluttery inside when I sit back down. But in a good way, I think.

Mrs. Montgomery has joined us, and is ushering Izzy toward the rest of her gifts, shaking her head and smiling in that way she does when Izzy's gone off the rails about something.

I twist my head, looking through the window on the garage door in the direction of the house, like I could see inside.

I wonder if he showed his mom the ring.

I wonder why I hope he didn't.

I wonder why it feels different, more special, that he kept it to himself.

And I wonder why I suddenly feel like I did something wrong.