How to Survive Middle School (24 page)

I switch off the computer, move to my bed and carefully open the envelope.

“What?” I say out loud. “Not possible.” I drop the letter onto my bed and knock on Lindsay’s door.

“Enter if you’re famous.”

I smile and go in.

Lindsay’s on her bed, polishing her fingernails. The smell stings my nose.

“Hey,” I say, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

“Hey yourself. Ready for tonight?”

I shrug. “Lindsay, can I ask you one question?”

“Shoot.”

“You said you’d never write to Mom, right?”

“Right. That was one question. You’re done.”

“Ha-ha.” I sit on the end of her bed.

“Watch it,” she says, wiping polish off her fingertip.

“Sorry, Linds. Did you write to Mom? About me?”

She stops polishing and looks at me. “You were really upset after Hammy died. I didn’t know what else to do.” She shrugs. “Lot of good it did. It’s not like Mom called or visited or anything.”

“She wrote me a letter,” I say. I walk over and kiss my sister on the cheek, which is practically zit free. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, David. Now get out before you mess up my polish.”

I smile and head back to my room to finish reading Mom’s letter.

My heart races. I almost run back into Lindsay’s room to tell her Mom’s going to visit.

I remember how Mom used to freak out if she thought she’d have to leave the house when she lived here. Sometimes she even got upset if someone called on the phone for her, and she’d refuse to answer it. Come to think of it, it was amazing Mom was able to leave at all to go live with the Farmer in Maine.

Me too
. But the pet place in the mall is closed, anyway.

“You’re LADM?” I say out loud.

I sniff hard and press Mom’s letter to my chest.
She tried
, I think.
She really tried
.

The doorbell rings.

“Got it,” Dad calls.

“Hey, where’s the big star?” I hear Alan Drummond say downstairs.

I fold the letter and slip it back into the envelope. Then I tuck it into the shoe box in my closet with the other dozens of letters from Mom. “Love you,” I say, and head downstairs.

“Hey,” Alan Drummond says, raising his glass to me. “You’re a real star, David.”

“Thanks,” I say, and duck my head.

The front door opens, and Aunt Sherry, Amy, Rachel and Jack walk in. Rachel pinches me. “Hi, David. Mom said I could stay up late to watch your show.”

“That’s great, Rach.” I rub my arm where she pinched it.

Jack gets me in a killer headlock and gives me noogies. “How cool is this, Cuz?”

“Cool,” I gasp.

It’s a good thing Jack lets me go, because Sophie and her mom walk in. Dad rushes over to greet them, and Sophie hands me a tray of cupcakes. Each one has my name in blue icing surrounded by a red star.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” Sophie kisses me on the cheek, like it’s no big deal.

Alan Wexler walks in and so does Bubbe’s friend Estelle.

Our living room is packed, and even with extra chairs, lots of people are standing. Bubbe carries in trays of food. “Eat,
bubelahs
, eat.”

I think about Mom. I think that she should be here, that she’d love this, but then I realize she wouldn’t love it at all. It would make her nervous and scared. She never liked crowds. Hated having to go to parties. She was happiest just being quiet at home. She’s happy now. As happy as she can be.

The doorbell rings, and I turn to get it.

“Late as usual,” I say, punching Elliott in the arm.

Ms. Berger comes in, too. “Congratulations, sweetie,” she says, and kisses my forehead. I wonder if she even knows that Elliott and I weren’t friends.

“Party’s in here,” I say, leading them to the living room.

At eleven, Dad turns on the TV and tells everyone to be quiet. “We don’t want to miss this,” he says, even though we’re recording it.

The moment Jon Stewart appears, the room falls silent. I look over at Elliott, and he gives me a thumbs-up.

Lindsay ruffles my hair.

“Sha!” Bubbe says, even though no one is talking.

After a few jokes about the day’s news, Jon Stewart says, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce you to my replacement.”

Some people from the TV audience gasp. I hear Sophie squeal, and I get goose bumps on my arms.

“There’s a kid in Bensalem, Pennsylvania, who’s been making videos for the Internet. His name is David Greenberg.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jack says.

“Sha!” Bubbe scolds.

Then Jon Stewart says, “One of the shows was about, um, yours truly. Let’s watch it.”

And on the screen above Jon’s shoulder is the
TalkTime
I did with Magazine Cover Jon Stewart. I cringe at the French horn joke. The clip stops before the Daily Acne Forecast, and I’m so relieved.

Jon says, “Is this guy hilarious or what?”

He’s talking about me
.

“I definitely think he’ll have my job someday.” Jon scowls at the camera. “But not yet. And that thing he said about the French horn? Totally true. Totally true. On to other news …”

Applause and cheers erupt in our living room. Before I know it, Elliott smashes me on the back, Jack gives me noogies and Lindsay squeezes my hand. “Great job, David. I’m so proud of you,” she says.

Bubbe pats my head. “Way to go,
bubelah
!”

Dad grabs me in a killer bear hug.

Even without Mom, I feel completely surrounded by love.

The last guest leaves after midnight.

“G’night, guys,” Dad says to me and Elliott, who is sleeping over.

“Night, David,” Lindsay says.

Bubbe pats my shoulder. “
Oy vey
, I’m tired,” she says, and stumbles off to her apartment.

Elliott opens a sleeping bag on the floor near my bed.

When the light’s out, he says, “David, you up?”

“Yeah.”

“Look, I’m sorry about … you know.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

I wait in the dark for Elliott to say something else, but all I hear are soft snoring sounds. I think about Sophie kissing me again and those star cupcakes. I think about all the people watching my video on
The Daily Show
. I think about Elliott sleeping here in my room again, just like old times. And I think about
Mom, who probably wishes she were here, but can’t be. It’s not her fault, but it’s not mine or Dad’s or the Farmer’s, either.

I turn on the little light over my bed and pull out my Rubik’s Cube. I fiddle with it for a while but can’t get more than one side the same color. I remember that Mom taught me to close my eyes and visualize myself solving it. I close my eyelids and remember the video I saw with the steps to solving it; then I imagine myself doing each of those steps. I open my eyelids and start doing them. When I get close to the end, I make the last several turns with my eyes closed. When I open them, I’m surprised to see that each side is a solid color.

I wish I could show Mom. I put the cube on my desk so Elliott will see it in the morning. He’ll be so impressed.

Then I pull a sheet of paper and a pen from my desk drawer. I think I’m going to write to Mom about the Rubik’s Cube, but instead I write this:

I put the letter in an envelope to mail in the morning. Then I listen to the sounds of Elliott’s breathing. I think about Lindsay sleeping in the next room and Dad and Bubbe asleep, too. I think about Hammy out in the yard. Maybe I’ll get a new hamster someday. Maybe I’ll name it Hermy and he’ll like being in my videos, too.

I take a deep breath, turn out the light and close my eyes.