The Ship We Built Read online

  But today was special. Dylan Beaman opened his potato chip bag like a normal person, and then he actually shared some of the insides with me. That was nice, because I didn’t have anything good in my lunch to trade with him, like one of those juices in the shiny pouches or a Ring Pop. I took the tiniest chip, but it still tasted delicious. To top it all off, he then said, “You can join in on the burping contest if you want to.” Can you believe it? He for sure knows that it’s only boys now. For a second, it felt like he really got me.

  Of course, all my old friends turned their heads when I followed Dylan to the other side of the long table. I couldn’t hear what they were gossiping about, but I didn’t even care. I kept my eyes on Dylan’s American flag shirt and noticed that he got the tiniest haircut last night. The shaved sides were smoother than ever when he looked behind his shoulder to make sure I was still there. He smiled, at least I think he did. Maybe he remembered from last year that I’m pretty good at burping after eating apples and taking sips of chocolate milk. I actually got third place for the whole entire fourth grade.

  As soon as we sat down, I remembered again that those days are over. It was real obvious that I’m not like the other boys in class. Their voices are much bigger. They like to wear green camouflage and hide their moms’ catalogs under their beds. They stomp their feet and shout each other’s names like they really mean it at every burping contest. They never did that back when girls were allowed to burp too.

  I looked over to my old friends to see if it was also obvious to them that I didn’t belong there, but they had already forgotten about me. They were all leaning over their brand-new cootie catcher, pointing at the different folds. What’s worse—when I looked back to Dylan and the rest of the boys-only burping contest, they had already skipped over me, cheering on somebody I don’t even know.

  When Dylan Beaman said I could join, I didn’t realize that it was only to watch from the sidelines. I don’t think any of them cared about how good I could be. The whole time I just smiled halfway and played with my hangnail until it bled. Two of the boys leaned over me and gave each other high fives like they forgot I was in the middle. I thought my carton of milk was going to fall over. I betcha I would have had success if I had one of those fancy pizza Lunchables or if I joined the homeroom basketball team and spun a ball on just one of my fingers like Michael Jordan. Maybe that way, the boys would have let me play or decide to invite me more than just this one time.

  Maybe it’s a good thing Dylan Beaman wanted me there watching. At the last slumber party with my old friends, almost every girl screamed when Courtney shared her dream of riding bikes and eating fudge with Dylan on Mackinac Island. We then had to practice saying our names with his last name over and over again. I would be called Ellie Beaman. I kind of like how it sounds, but I could never think about doodling that name since our desks are right next to each other. I hope you are good at keeping secrets, because I wouldn’t say this to just anybody. I hope I eventually have good things in my lunch to trade with Dylan Beaman. That way, he would be happy to see me and we can try the burping contest again. That’s even more than just saying hi. I don’t know.

  I’ve considered taking my lunch to the bathroom stall just to make lunch easier, but I’m worried that’s never going to happen as long as the lunch aids are in charge of us. The aid in the doorway wears pants just like my mom, the kind that make those loud swish-swish sounds whenever she walks. The lunch aid also has a red plastic whistle around her neck for when we get too loud or when it seems like someone is going to get into big trouble. If I tried to leave, she would blow that whistle super-duper loud. I don’t want everyone and their brother looking at me just because I want to do something different. Don’t you know that having a little privacy is why I would want to go to the bathroom stall to begin with?

  What would you do if you were me? It has only been like seven days of school, and I still don’t really know where to put myself. Maybe nowhere is the right place to sit. Do you ever feel like you made up the good times? Does that happen to everybody? With any luck, maybe I will find someone to draw on the lunch trays with me. If you happen to find this balloon, please write me back soon. I have been checking for letters under the WELCOME TO HOUGHTON sign nearly every day after school. Maybe you and I will draw together or share chocolate milk there one day? I don’t know, maybe if you wanted to.

  Sincerely,

  Ellie

  P.S. What do you think of the name Sawyer? I think it’s nice.

  Monday, September 14, 1997

  Hello Friend,

  Guess what? I have the best news. Even though I have overheard Dad say a million times that “money is tight,” he says I’m now old enough to get a one-dollar allowance. This means I can afford a chocolate milk and also a balloon to write more letters every week. All I have to do is make my bed and wash my own dishes every day, which is super easy.

  Do you know what else is good news? Dylan shared another potato chip with me at lunch the other day. He didn’t invite me to the boys-only burping contest after that, but it was still a really nice thing to do. Also, it turns out all I had to do was ask, “May I go to the bathroom, please?” and the lunch aid lady totally lets me. What she doesn’t know is that I sometimes stay in the stall until the bell rings. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than sitting at those lunch tables with everybody else. It gets too lonely to watch all the other fifth graders talking and trading their lunches with each other. I tried playing the “He loves me? He loves me not?” game using a string cheese, but instead of “He,” I was just thinking about my old friends.

  Actually, Courtney did talk to me earlier this week, but it didn’t last long. It was only because Mr. B assigned me the Language Arts binder with a number thirty-two on the spine. Everybody wanted to trade with me because thirty-two is also the TV channel for MTV. Courtney got all mad when I shook my head. She said in front of everybody, “It’s not like you watch MTV anyways.”

  I hate to say it, but Courtney was right. I only said no to trading because I thought maybe she would ask me again or maybe she would just think I am cool for having it. No such luck. Instead, everybody went to talk to the quiet boy in class who got the VH1 binder. Now I just bring my MTV binder with me everywhere I go just in case anyone maybe wants to talk to me about it again. I open it up as wide as I can at recess and when I’m waiting at my desk for class to start. I even hold my binder tight between my legs when standing at the bathroom sinks. It’s hard to keep it from falling onto the tile floor, especially when my old friends are there. They wash their hands much faster than I do.

  I like being in the bathroom best when I’m all by myself. When I’m alone, I can pretend it’s not actually the girls’ room, and instead it’s just a nice place to sit and relax. I take out my silly headband and have my own locked door. I rest my elbows on my binder and read the notes people have left behind on the wall. To be honest, I thought about using a big marker to leave the girls a message there. I’m just not sure what permanent thing I would want to say. It’s funny to think that my BFFs and I used to write things out of invisible ink for fun. We would play Inspector Gadget and solve cereal box mysteries together, and now I can’t even leave a clue to tell them that I’m still alive and still want to be their friend.

  All summer long I have been feeling far away from them, like when I offered to play Uncle Jesse in our game of Full House and they said that was weird for me to play the boy part. But we haven’t been real friends ever since that slumber party. Don’t tell anyone this, but I think it’s because I said another thing that I shouldn’t have. I told everyone that I think that Sofie Gavia is cute. I didn’t mean to. I thought truth or dare was supposed to be a fun game. But when Sofie came back to the party from the bathroom, all the girls laughed at her because she didn’t know about the bad thing I said about her. Courtney got out her parents’ camcorder and said, “We have to protect Sofie from Ellie.” Ever
ybody had to listen to her because she was the birthday girl. They turned up that song “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” on the boom box, and filmed themselves building a moat of pillows and VHS tapes around Sofie’s sleeping bag. Sofie just watched all confused.

  I hate to admit it, but no one wanted to sleep next to me that night. They didn’t want me under the backyard trampoline the next morning either. I can’t write about any of this in a bathroom stall that only has hearts with people’s initials inside. I don’t have anyone’s name to put into a heart with mine. I hope I’m not a loser and that nobody in the world sees that video Courtney made. I don’t know. Things will be all right by December. Every year, Mary has a big McDonald’s dinner and slumber party to celebrate both Christmas and her birthday. Mary knows I don’t even need to stand on phonebooks to reach the high shelf with all of the secret sugary snacks and Christmas presents. Plus, I’m sure they all remember that I come up with the very best dares. For example, last year, I got the other girls to pee into Dixie cups in the laundry room.

  This year, I dared myself to see how long I can go without speaking. I’ve started calling it the no talking game. Do you ever play it? I wish I’d started it sooner. It’s keeping me out of trouble, and usually it’s enough to just nod my head yes or no. To be very honest with you, I’m almost glad that I don’t know you, because that’s one less slumber party invitation I have to worry about. Maybe I wouldn’t want to talk to you out loud either. No offense. That’s just how I am, I guess.

  I have to tell you something, though, and you have to swear on your life that you won’t tell anybody. Today I stayed in my favorite bathroom stall not only through lunch, but also math class. I still think of myself as a good student, though. My mom made me do Brain Quest flash cards all summer long and my grades are almost good enough to be offered a special hall monitor job. I did my own version of math class anyways by counting all the ceiling, floor, and wall tiles. I lost count at number seventeen and got antsy when I heard the sink water running all of a sudden. I tried to hide my breath and tuck up my feet so that person would think that they were all alone. But that sink kept on going for nearly five minutes, it really seemed like enough water to take a shower or set a ship to sail. The water kept running and running, and my legs got so tired from trying to stay small. I couldn’t take it anymore, and put my feet down.

  I peeked under the door. Turns out, it was just Sofie. I recognized her see-through sandals. She cleared her throat and said, “Are you okay?” She turned the water off and waited for me to say something back. I took my time to turn the silver handle and let the door swing open. I was surprised Sofie waited long enough for me to come out. She stood there smiling without any teeth showing. It was impossible to ignore her.

  Right then and there, we decided to start our own club for working on our confident walks in and out of the bathroom stalls. It’s a super-small club with just the two of us, but that’s okay. It’s probably best nobody else knows about it, so it’s actually a secret club. Just so you know, the secret club was Sofie’s idea and it wouldn’t be weird for people to see us together in the bathroom because everybody has to go in there eventually. I don’t know. Do you belong to any clubs during school or maybe after school? I heard that there will be even more clubs to choose from in middle school. Anyways, I think this secret club with Sofie G could be a good thing.

  Maybe when we practice our confident walks in the future, Sofie and I can use the loud hand driers to make loud noises like a very excited audience. We will clap for each other too because we can, just like the invisible studio audiences on Boy Meets World. What do you think? It’s not like she really knows what I said about her during truth or dare anyways, right? The fact is Sofie and I have actually known each other for a long time. All the girls in our class used to get invited to all the same birthday parties. That was back when everyone called everyone a friend. There’s nothing wrong with calling someone cute, I think. I hope you don’t think I’m weird for writing that. I almost crossed it out, but then I didn’t. Sorry. Anyways, thanks for listening.

  Bye,

  Ellie

  PS, Sorry, what do you think about the name Alex? Or maybe Tanya?

  Friday, September 19, 1997

  Dear Friend,

  I just turned ten years old, which is a big deal I guess because it’s two numbers and I get an allowance now. But it can be stressful to have a beginning of the school year birthday because there are so many beginnings at once. Honestly, I don’t like my birthday so much. People ask me all kinds of big questions about life and call me “birthday girl” over and over again. Do you like it when people call you a girl or a boy over and over again? They always expect me to smile about it, but I would rather celebrate other things instead of being a birthday girl. I would like to celebrate the caterpillar that somehow survived the playground jungle gym last winter. I would like to celebrate my confident walk when I eventually get it down. I would like to celebrate the ice cream truck driver’s birthday, which actually should be a big national holiday.

  Actually, I did like my eighth birthday, back when everyone thought I was interesting in a good way. We moved all the way to Houghton because my parents needed new jobs. Even though life was a lot harder without money, Mom and Dad wanted to impress everyone by filling the whole house with streamers of every color and lucky for them, they got the whole thing on their camcorder. That party was actually the last time my whole entire basement was filled with all the girls from class. We half watched Grease, and took turns connecting our freckles together with the glittery gel pens I got as a present.

  Sofie was at that party too. Don’t tell anybody this, but I remember she reached for my hand below the table just as I was about to blow out those eight butterfly-shaped candles. And she held on hard. Do you have small things that you can’t forget? Even if there were no words and it’s probably not even on camera? I’m not sure why I remember that moment so much. I do think that holding hands with somebody can make everything feel bigger inside, which means more room for a bigger wish. That was the first year I blew out all of my candles at once.

  My birthday this year started with my favorite pencil, with the most fun eraser, snapping all the way in half. The tip was shaped like a happy-looking dog with big blue eyes, and it flew right out of my hand because I was trying to erase on my spelling pretest too hard. Then Dylan Beaman accidentally stepped on my favorite pencil while getting out of his chair. I guess he wanted to get to recess fast. I can’t really blame him for that, can I? Maybe it was my fault for dropping it.

  Dylan Beaman saw the look on my face and said, “Sorry, Ellie.” I believed him. He walked away and I picked up the sharpened half of my pencil from the dusty floor. It’s only about one inch long now, and won’t be very helpful for erasing anymore. I decided to turn in my pretest with that spelling word half-gone and followed Dylan out to the playground.

  Recess is usually my favorite time of the day too, another thing that Dylan and I have in common. All the fifth graders were playing a new game called Red Rover, and we even let some innocent fourth graders play too. Sofie and I held hands for the second time ever, but I promise you that it wasn’t a big deal because she was right next to me and everybody was doing it. Everybody then shouted the words Red Rover, Red Rover together, and held on for dear, dear life.

  I really hope this isn’t true, but I think Courtney and them have figured out that Sofie and I have a secret club, because people kept trying to break us apart during Red Rover. Not even the smallest of all my old friends, Mary, was afraid of us. She kicked the dirt back for an extra-strong start, and came running toward us with a huff and puff. I felt Sofie’s nails digging into my skin. We swung our arms together. It was as hard as I could hold, and guess what? We didn’t break up. Instead, Mary bounced off of us like a slingshot. I couldn’t help but celebrate with a tiny dance because I realized that maybe I am stronger than I know. Has that happened to you
before? They thought the two of us would be weak and easy to smash in between because we usually get picked last in gym class and because I did such a bad job leading the stretches the other day. They were wrong, though.

  But, I don’t know, do you think I look weak? I guess you wouldn’t know because we’ve never actually met before. I drew you a picture so you can see. I didn’t include my head because I don’t really like my haircut right now. Luckily, I do know how to draw a good tie-dyed shirt.

  I have to admit, though, I let go of Sofie’s hand on purpose when Dylan Beaman came running through. His truck-themed sweatshirt pushed against my arm, and he crashed into the grass behind us. I like to think of it as a really fast hug, our first hug actually. I know it was wrong to let the other team get a point like that. I just wanted the small chance to be picked for Dylan’s side. But instead, he chose somebody with stretchy pants that had the words All Star written on the butt. I gave her the stink eye, but maybe that was kind of mean of me. I really can’t stop thinking about it.

  At the end of recess, we all walked down the slope toward the school building and I was feeling kind of bad about the whole thing. That’s when Sofie told me, “You were really strong today.” It was our first talking outside of the bathroom stalls that year. I just shook my head because I didn’t believe her.

  This is just between you and me, but at lunch that day I decided to give Sofie an invitation to my birthday party. I don’t know why, especially after what happened at that last slumber party, but I did. Sofie looked at the blue singing whale I drew on the card, and told me, “I love it.” It took a few minutes of repeating her words in my head, but I finally believed her. Her smile made the lunch room feel quiet, no burps or laughs or anything. She RSVP’ed right away too. She said, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” and wrote BIRTHDAY PARTY on her hand in blue glitter gel pen so she wouldn’t forget to come. The two of us didn’t say much after that, but I put the rest of my gel pens between us to share.