Sincerely, Emily ✓

16 • The Odds Weren't In Your Favor

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OLIVER!"

Everybody cheered and clapped as he blew the candles and made a wooo! sound. You could tell he was very excited — it was his eighteenth birthday, after all. Eighteen was like the gateway to everything; you were starting the age of adulthood and there were a million things you could do right now. You were beginning a new page of your life. 

When I turned eighteen, though, it was the opposite.

"I feel invincible," he rejoiced to me over the crowd of people.

"Don't get. . . yourropes up."

He snickered. "You sound totally drunk right now, Woods."

"Shut it."

Oliver decided to celebrate his story by throwing a "social gathering" in this restaurant-slash-hang-out-place-thing. It was a party, but it wasn't crazy. He invited his friends (which were also my friends) from school, and other people I didn't recognise. I was reminded that Oliver didn't spend every second of the day with me. When I was in my classes with the Three Stooges, Oliver was in Cromwell High, continuing his normal teenage life. At first I wasn't that affected by it, but now I knew that while we're getting closer than ever, we were also drifting apart.

Then my eyes focused on one person and I froze.

I hadn't seen them in a very, very long time. And it wasn't someone I was fond of.

"You. . . invited. . . him?" I hissed at Oliver.

"Are you insane? No! I wouldn't invite that dumbo!" He turned to look at the person who was walking towards us. No! "He must've invited himself."

"Well. . . then uhhrry before — "

"Oh, hey, Woodster."

On instinct, Oliver stepped in front of me. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Chill, Grant," Devon said with an irritating smile, holding his hands up. "I just came to talk to the lady."

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Obsessive, much?" He turned to me. "What happened to your leg, Em? Did you get hit by a bus or something? Looks fatal."

I gritted my teeth. "Shuhhup, Devon."

He laughed outrageously. "What was that, Em? You need to cool down on all the drinks."

That was enough. I rolled the wheels, escaping his laughter that had gone louder. I didn't know when he got there, but soon enough, I could feel Oliver's hands close around the handles of my wheelchair.

He kept pushing me to wherever he wanted to go, while muttering some "thank you"s and "glad you came"s to people who passed us. We were making quite a commotion, since the birthday boy seemed like he was in a hurry to go somewhere instead of staying at the party. But most of them just let us pass, since he was the birthday boy.

Except for one person.

"Emily?"

What now? I got irritated. There was already Devon, I didn't want to talk to any —

"Bal?"

I didn't see her face when she said my name, because she was blocked my view. But I still didn't recognise her voice. Jesus. Could it be that it was so long that I forgot what my best friend's voice sounded like? What was wrong with me?