by Dean Murray
Chapter 17
I reached out groggily to turn off my alarm, and then wished it was still the weekend so I wouldn't have to get up and go to school.
I finished off my normal morning routine with a pair of aspirin from the bathroom cupboard. I didn't usually like taking drugs of any kind, but I had a sharp headache building already.
I shuffled downstairs, waved a speechless hello to Mom, grabbed my lunch, bag, and books as I absently wondered why there was a cupcake on the counter with a lit candle. Mom has always been paranoid about open flames. She'd nearly burned down the house as a kid.
I was halfway to the front door before Mom grabbed my arm and turned me back towards the kitchen. "I can't believe you. You really would have left without realizing it was your birthday?"
Ugh. No wonder I had a headache. My brain must have been working overtime in an effort to block out the fact I was now another year older. "Thanks, Mom."
I blew out the candle, and turned to leave again, but didn't even get to take a step this time.
"Hold on there. Do you always skip breakfast now?"
Mom had somehow spontaneously developed these weird memories featuring me as a morning person. I personally couldn't remember a time when I'd actually liked getting up. I didn't necessarily hate the mornings, but we weren't really on a first-name basis. More like acquaintances than friends.
"You both used to be down in the kitchen eating breakfast at the crack of dawn almost every morning. Now it's like you don't even want to roll out of bed."
She used to like mornings. I'd tagged along just because it hadn't seemed right to put a damper on such enthusiasm. Trust Mom to bring that up on my birthday. I swayed just a little. Today it didn't seem quite as bad, as long as I didn't think of her actual name.
"Mom, I don't want to be late. Thanks a bunch for the cupcake. Can we wait to celebrate until after school?"
Now it was her turn to look guilty and fidget just a little bit. "Actually, that's why I wanted to talk to you this morning. I've been shooting that new place I left you the note about. The one that bunch of kids your age told me about. Anyways, it's the best place I've found so far. I've been shooting it at pretty much all hours, but I think I need to get higher up for the shot I want."
I knew exactly where this was going. Actually, I was kind of relieved she wasn't going to be around this afternoon. Birthdays are supposed to be special. Dad had always understood that and done an amazing job of surprising us with something new and unusual on our birthdays. Mom had always felt like a round of happy birthdays and a cake more than met the requirements for birthday specialness. It was going to be hard enough missing Dad on the one day guaranteed to make me think of him. It would've been worse if Mom was around constantly making comparisons between what she was doing and what Dad would've done.
"...so this is the only day he can help me, and if I don't get some help climbing, then I'll never make it high enough to get the shot for the tourism booklet. You understand, don't you, sweetie?"
I nodded, and managed a fairly convincing smile.
"Okay, then. Well there's a present for you in the living room, but since you didn't want to celebrate until after school, you'll have to wait to open it."
I could definitely hear the rumble of a high-performance engine. I nodded again, and turned to go, hopeful that I could avoid the inevitable question of why Brandon was coming to pick me up in the mornings as well as dropping me off most afternoons. Unfortunately, Mom's hearing was nearly as good as mine, and she was walking towards the windows before I managed to get the door open.
"Adri, who's that?"
It was obviously one of those leading questions designed to see whether or not I'd try to lie. I shrugged. "His name is Brandon; he picks me up sometimes in the morning."
I was saved from dealing with her response by Brandon's knock.
"Hello, Adriana, Mrs. Paige."
I never thought I'd see the like. Mom's face lost its stern 'I'm doing this for your own good' look, and instead transformed into something not very different from what I saw every time I watched the girls my age look at Brandon.
"Well, hello. You're Brandon?"