Rebecca Stead - Plan B

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Plan B 2013 by Rebecca Stead

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EPub Edition AUGUST 2013 ISBN: 9780062289667

FIRST EDITION

Wednesday

April 19

D ear ____________,

Because whoever is reading this, I have no idea who you are. I havent even figured out where Im going to stick this thing when Im done with it, but itll be somewhere secret, somewhere hard to find, and it might be a long time before anyone reads it. A year. Ten years. Maybe more.

You cant write a text or an email and hide it for someone to find someday. You need pen and paper for that. And opposable thumbs. Speaking of which: I probably should have started this letter hours ago, when I heard the key turn on the other side of my bedroom door.

I keep listening for the sound of the lock and squinting to see if maybe the doorknob is turning. But I dont know if Im hoping that the door will burst open or stay closed. I dont even know how much longer Im going to be able to hold this pen.

Opposable thumbs. Let me tell you something, whoever-you-are: If you have opposable thumbs, you probably take them for granted. If you knew how much you love your thumbs, you would write them a love song, sing it in your underwear, and post it on YouTube. You would be willing to totally humiliate yourself for those thumbs.

And if you dont have opposable thumbs? Well, that would answer a lot of the questions I have running through my head right now.

Lets just say I hope you have thumbs.

I wasnt supposed to tell anyone about us. Obviously. But when sixth grade started last year, I finally found a real friend. And I had kept this big secret inside me for such a long time.

Mom says Ive got forty-nine good friends, and yeah, we have the monthly Skypes with the others: Caleb from California, Isaac from Indiana, Toby from Texas, Cody from Colorado, and so on. But the Skypes are so awkward, with all the parents looking nervous in the background. A big part of friendship is just hanging out with nobody watching. Which is hard to do when you know all the grown-ups are scrutinizing (vocab word!) everyone elses skin.

Evan is different. He moved to New York City last year, and hes just a good friend, you know? He laughs at everything, even when the joke is on him. And hes not worried all the time, like me. And one day this winter I justsaid it. I told him about us. All I wanted was for someone to know me, to understand me. I hate hiding. And, like, pretending all the time. Ive been pretending my whole life, pretty much.

I knew Evan wouldnt flip out on me, and he didnt. He was real cool about it, all things considered. And Im so much happier, having someone I can talk to about real stuff. But right now Im worried about him. He was supposed to come over after school today, after my appointment with the doctors. What if he stops by with a bag of Ms. Penas empanadas?

Did I mention Im missing Foods of Spain Day?

Yeah. While Im locked in here, Seora Pena is bringing all this amazing food to school to share with our Spanish class.

I mention Foods of Spain Day because Im kind of hungry. Everyone totally freaked out this morning, and the question of lunch never really came

Man! I just fell asleep. Second time thats happened since I got locked in here! Maybe the third time.

I havent heard anything through the door in a while.

I wonder if my parents are okay.

I wonder what the doctors are doing right now.

And if Evan shows up with those empanadas, what will they do to him?

Maybe the empanadas are just wishful thinking.

Im going to tell you what happened now. (Sorry, Mr. Barker, I know that was a terrible transition. I should have said something like, speaking of thumbs, heres what happened, or even better: speaking of being locked in my room, heres what happened. So I hope you arent a sixth-grade English teacher, because if you are, this letter will probably annoy

Shoot, I think I just fell asleep again.

So heres what happened:

Five days ago, when we got back from our vacation in Florida, Mom said to dump all our stuff on the floor right inside the front door. She was carrying the beach bag, with the sandy plastic buckets and shovels, the Kadima paddles, and the fake sunscreen, and she let the whole thing just drop off her shoulder and spill out all over the floor, which was weird because Mom always pretends to be this perfect person with a perfect husband, a perfect son (thats me), and a perfect house. (Or in our case, a perfect apartment.) I watched the little rubber Kadima ball bounce a couple of times and then roll under the hall table, where my schoolbooks were neatly stacked, ready for school on Monday. She didnt even notice. I figured she was still thinking about the fish fry that we never made it to.

When we checked into the hotel in Florida, they told us about the Saturday Night Fish Fry Extravaganza, and how it was free for guests who stay the full week. A big dinner with lots of families is just the kind of thing Mom loves more than anything. It proves shes doing everything right. I knew she was thinking that the other mothers hadnt even thought twice about our family: That we werethat Mom had made usthat good. And me most of all. I was perfect. Undetectable.

But apparently not perfect enough.

Because when Mom saw what was happening to me on Saturday morning, we had to rush off even before breakfast. We didnt say goodbye to any of the other families, except for the one in the next-door cabin, and that was only because they saw us packing up our rental car in a hurry and asked if everything was okay.

Mom told them I had a broken arm. Which made them look at us kind of funny because I was carrying two bags to the car at that very moment. When Mom is flustered she sometimes messes up. She really is very good at what she does, most of the time.

The cats came running as soon as we opened the apartment door, except Toto, who always likes to play it cool, like, Oh, were you guys gone? Im so darn busy and independent, I didnt even notice.

Dad bent down and shook hands with the cats. Alex first, then Aidan.

Steven! Mom yelled. You have got to stop shaking hands with the cats!

Dad and I stared at each other for a second. Mom isnt usually a yeller.

Want to go through the mail? Dad asked her, holding out a thick pile of catalogs and envelopes. He was trying to cheer her up. Mom loves mail. Dad says that on the Boat, mail box was her favorite game.

But Mom shook her head at him. Shower, she said. Now.

Like all the parents, Mom showers twice a day, every day. Even that day.

Alex and Aidan, who are only half-grown, started playing with the Kadima ball, batting it down the hall and then running after it like it was a live thing trying to escape them.