(In case you need to catch up or would just like to waste a bit of your morning: One Through Six here. Seven And Eight here. Nine here. Ten here. And, oh, eleven is here.)
1994, age twelve
Natalie and I spend afternoons meandering around our neighborhood, walking by our crushes' houses and wearing out our fake Birkenstocks from Payless. Natalie's mom tells us to be home at a certain time, and when that time draws near, and we're not ready to head back, we turn one of our watches back twenty minutes and assume we can convince her the watch mysteriously broke.
One of those crushes whose house we walk slowly by is named Caleb, and we have English together. Word gets to him that I like him and word gets back to me that he likes me back, and he calls Natalie's house one afternoon to ask me out and he is officially my first boyfriend. A week or so later, we go to the movies to see Mrs. Doubtfire, and he holds my hand. The butterflies slamming around my stomach are new, and it's ridiculously hard for me to concentrate on the movie. He moves to Oklahoma a few weeks after that, and I never talk to him again.
That summer, I take Natalie to California for three weeks. We fight and go back-to-school shopping and have a water-gun match in my dad's backyard. My brother is a little over one-years-old, and he has the bluest eyes and the blondest hair, and I give him his bottle every morning.
1995, age thirteen
For my thirteenth birthday, three days into 1995, my step-mom takes me to Clothestime to get a birthday outfit and I pick out this purple pleather jacket I kind of wish I still had. That night, we go to Mel's Diner in San Francisco for dinner before my dad surprises me with tickets to see The Phantom of the Opera.
Back in Texas, I'm in the middle of seventh grade, and in my Texas History class I am moved around the room 13 times because Mrs. Dixon claims I am the "chattiest" student she's ever taught. When she moves me next to a boy named Scott we become best friends and for a few years we stay that way.
Natalie and I fill up spirals and spirals of notes, writing back and forth to each other with various nicknames and slang—talking about Scott and other boys and what we're going to do over the weekend. But as eighth grade kicks off Natalie and I have a horrible fight and we spend an entire month not talking. I hang out with the "cool crowd" that month, going to haunted houses and birthday parties and pretending I don't feel ridiculously out of place. But I do. I can't remember how or why or when, but Natalie and I make-up and I bow out of the crowd I never belonged in in the first place.
At home my sister is leading her own life, and she has boyfriends and a job and still—all these years later—the better hair of the two of us. Unlike me, she keeps her room spotlessly clean, and when she isn't home—even though I know she would kill me if she ever found out—I sneak into her room and listen to her CDs while sitting on her bed very careful not to mess up the comforter. One day she drops by my school, and I get a note from her during my Algebra class. It says, "I'll pick you up after school and we can 'cruise around'" And it's the only time she does this, but it means the world to me all the same.