13 by Jason Robert Brown Page A

scribe who had founded the world’s first orphanage, and then it moved on to a section where he thanked his family for supportinghim and loving him; it was actually very moving. Then he thanked his stepmom for being such a good friend! I debated running up to the bimah and just stealing his speech for my own ceremony next week.
    In any case, as soon as the ceremony was over, Steve, Bill, and a bunch of other guys decided to walk over to the reception instead of waiting for the girls. Ten blocks later, we barged into the main lobby of the Pierre Hotel, ten obnoxious boys in suits running screaming down the elegant hallways.
    I knew that Aaron’s parents were rich, but this was insane. It was like their money had money. First off, the lobby had so much famous art dripping off the walls, it looked like a wing of the Met. Then we were directed down a mirrored hall, past a plush bar, and into this absolutely enormous ballroom. Waiters glided here and there with trays of appetizers and glasses of punch and champagne. A chocolate fountain pumped away into what looked like a chocolate lagoon filled with pineapple chunks and strawberries. Two huge black guys were onstage, singing and rapping, and a DJ was pounding music through the room. Tables with place cards were arranged in perfect symmetry around a glistening dance floor. On the ceiling there were four of the largest chandeliers I had ever seen. A far cry from Pam’s plastic chickens.
    â€œLet the festivities commence,” Bill said. He signaledfor a waiter. “Who wants champagne?”
    Steve shrugged. “I’m in.”
    I got nervous. “Will they let us?”
    Bill shot me a glance. “This is a bar mitzvah, dude. Nobody’s going to card you.”
    Despite everything you might hear to the contrary, most New York kids aren’t drug-using sex addicts. That’s only the private-school kids. When I clinked glasses with Steve and Bill and took a big swallow of champagne, I’m not embarrassed to say that it was my first drink ever. And even though we had had the typical talks in health class about the evils of alcohol, I downed the entire glass in just under a minute. Felt good, too.
    â€œNot bad!” Bill said, putting his empty glass down and emitting an enormous belch.
    â€œYes sirree!” Steve said. “This hits the spot.”
    I grabbed a mushroom tart off a passing tray, but when I turned back, Bill was heading across the floor.
    â€œWhere you going?” Steve called.
    Bill wheeled around then kept walking backward. “To find me a woman!”
    I got a sick feeling in my stomach. What woman? My woman? Where was Nina, anyway? But before I had a chance to make my own move, Rudy and a gang of guys came over, and I was suddenly in the middle of a conversation about their new school.
    â€œWild about what happened to Mr. Henry, right?” one kid said.
    â€œRight,” Rudy said. “The dude didn’t even ask permission.”
    â€œPermission for what?” I asked.
    Nobody seemed to hear me.
    â€œI know,” Steve said, laughing. “And did you hear what happened in math class? You know, last Friday.”
    With that, the other kids broke up.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    Maybe my friends just didn’t want to take the time to catch me up? Whatever the reason, I never found out what Mr. Henry did or what happened in math or about twenty other things that came up in that conversation. At first I tried to keep up, but it wasn’t long before I just shut my mouth. With each word I felt farther and farther away. Had it only been a month and a half since I’d moved to Indiana? Sure, the guys had all switched schools because it was the beginning of junior high, but was it really possible for me to be so out of touch so quickly?
    I slipped away when they started ragging on their new gym teacher. I had been scanning the room and finally hit pay dirt.
    Nina Handleman—on the dance