Page 106 of Facing Off
“It’s your birthday, silly,” he reminded me. “And crowns are more for girls, not boys.”
“So? I want to make you one!”
I hunkered down and pulled out my crayons and my construction paper.
“You’re my brother,” I told Quinn proudly. “We have to match. Forever siblings, right?”
Quinn exhales, this happy, relaxed sound. “Forever siblings, always.”
Later in the kitchen, wearing a flimsy blue crown, he pulled out some bitter dark chocolate chips. Both our noses wrinkled.
“When I get a job, I’m going to buy the good stuff,” he promised me.
“You’re eleven.” I laughed. “You can’t get a job until you’re big.”
“Are you saying I’mnotbig?” He flexed his arms.
I snickered and shook my head.
We both giggled.
After ruffling my hair, he went back to making pancakes. I tried to help, but Quinn told me it was my birthday, so I only got to watch. Plus, he was worried I’d burn myself on the stove.
After pancakes, we played whatever games I wanted. For hours, I made Quinn play tag, hide and seek, and this other game where we pretended we were the parents and all our stuffed animals were kids. We gave them a bunch of hugs.
It was late when our parents came home. Like always.
They took one glance at the crowns on our heads and startled. There was a bit of a rush where they went to the other room and fumbled with a drawer.
I was holding my breath with excitement.
Quinn wasn’t smiling. He’d grown quiet.
My mom came over and handed me a card. “Happy birthday, Sonya.”
This one had a kangaroo on the front! I wondered what that meant. Did she think I was like a kangaroo this year?
Mom waited.
I hugged her and said thank you.
She patted my head and said they brought leftovers home from the restaurant they ate dinner at. They were in the fridge, so if we were still hungry, we could have some.
After Mom left, Quinn saw me tracing the kangaroo on the card and sighing.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he said.
My face scrunched as tears threatened to gather along my lashes. “It does.”
Quinn didn’t argue, but stared off to the side. I could sense something protective and upset swirling inside him, but I didn’t want to talk about why he felt that way.
I got off the sofa and told him I was going to my room. Really, I was trying to catch Dad before he went to sleep. To give him a chance to say happy birthday to me, too.
Maybe I’d try telling him and Mom that I wanted to celebrate with them, too. To see if they wanted to cut a cake…or not. We could also do something that had nothing to do with my birthday.
We could hang out. Together for once.
Because I was nine and deep down believed that they thought I was worth knowing. That they cared, even if I couldn’t prove with evidence that they did.
