Sixth Grade Summation and Summer Beginning

That worst year, sixth grade, was over in the blink of an eye. Before long I was once again basking in the rays of summer, with all the taunting about being the "Triplet Genius" gone. Once again there were clear skies, and plenty of space for me to run away from my irksome siblings if I wanted. My sister spent most of our first week out of school, with her head in a book, memorizing Latin (which, we didn't need to know for upcoming 7th grade anyway!). My brother immediately found himself a dozen hardcover 500-page books to entertain himself with. All seemed right in the world.

I recalled that last year of middle school with a grim pride. I had survived. Never again would middle school be so bad. If I could do sixth grade, I could do anything.

I went back to my usual daytime writing, and began scribbling down notes on a new story idea from my spot in the hammock. In the hammock I could see across the street and down the road, watching kids playing in the neighborhood, and trees swaying in the breeze. My orange, bewhiskered cat paced back and forth below the rainbow menagerie of cloth, his tail just brushing the underside.

That first week after sixth grade had let out, I decided to get things done. The first thing I decided, was to clean my room. The desk that should have been clear so I could do my homework was always besieged with crumpled notebook pages, old magazines, and Post-it notes I had forgotten to remember. My shelves overflowed with containers of little odds and ends: hair bands, books, coins, earring backings, and journals. I took my whole room apart, and then put it back together. I began to put together all the pieces of my life, that had fallen apart over that year of middle school.

With each thing I accomplished, pride blossomed inside of me. I finally got to reading the whole book "Little Women", and reread the whole Harry Potter series. I called up my friend and biked with her to get ice cream cones, just so we could spend some quality time together. I played my brother at the computer game that I always refused to be a part of, and I helped my sister study. I played my golden flute until my lips hurt. I did all the things I had been dying to do.

Why do I remember those things, but I don't remember other little moments? It's funny the way the minds works; it's funny how people forget experiences they thought would always stick with them. I wonder what ten years from now I'll remember about this year, and what I will forget. Hopefully I'll forget all the embarrassing moments, but with my luck, those will be the memories ingrained my mind forever. At that moment, though, I simply concentrated on enjoying the first week of summer, and restarting my life.

The Cataclysmic Birthday Bash

Birthdays were always a major occasion at our house. It wasn't just one person's birthday - it was three! At a very young age my brother, sister, and I began saving up our allowances to buy each other gifts. We would buy them as soon as August, even though our birthday was November. We were so excited!

In sixth grade our birthday landed on a Saturday and we decided to celebrate with a major birthday bash. My brother invented 8 friends, my sister and I invited 12. We had a total of 20 kids coming to our house! We specifically requested that nobody bring presents, and spent weeks ahead of time planning out what games to play, whether we should play Lazer Tag in the gym, and whether anyone disliked chocolate. Soon, the day finally came.

Kids flooded in from all over the city. My mom, who was legendary for her cakes and cooking creations (she'd made a 3-story carousel cake, a four foot dragon, and many spectacular designs), created a huge cake that looked like Hogwarts castle. It was enough to feed everyone, and was absolutely coated with chocolate frosting and towers, with miniature Harry Potter characters posed in the grounds.

Our house was full of screaming, hyperactive kids. The girls started out gossiping upstairs and migrated into the gymnasium to screw around. None of us ended up doing the games we'd originally planned. We were having the time of our lives. Suddenly, though, our bliss was shattered as nine boys invaded the gym, armed with very large and very dangerous (so we thought) rubber band guns. Rubber bands exploded from the ends of their guns hitting all of our guests and leaving angry red welts. We screamed, ran and cowered, but could not get past the throng of attackers. It wasn't long before they'd shut the door to the gymnasium and locked us in. We pounded on the window, screamed, and finally sat around moping, waiting for an adult to notice that we were captive. For some reason, while we were locked in the gym, playing didn't seem like so much fun. Instead we spent the good part of an hour sitting around or banging on the door.

When my mom realized that three fourths of her guests were locked in the gym she was furious! Her face grew red and she marched down to the basement, barking at the boys and forcing them to apologize to each of us once we were freed. The boys spent the rest of the party in vengeful silence, hardly having a bite of cake, while my sister and my guests gloated triumphantly.

That twelfth birthday was the end of any famous triplet parties. Years later our friends still talk about it (some of them wistfully, others not), but our parents made a rule from then on: no more parties. Our mom still makes fabulous cakes (this year she made a fantastic, huge, orange 'pumpkin' cake, and before that she made a large treasure chest scattered with fake jewels), but we now have a private party at home, where we go around the room, each taking turns opening a present and picking out the presents for the next round. In our family we don't sing happy birthday (my mom hums it, but other than that, we are all terrible singers), but instead enjoy the wonderful meal, the opening of a million presents, and then a movie down in the basement (usually our favorite movie, Finding Nemo).

This year I'm hoping my birthday present will be a moped, but I can't make any promises. As for a graduation party in 4 years? Not a chance. My mom has sworn off parties for good.