"All right!" Summer calls, trying to hide her smile. "Who wrote this?"
A few kids made way toward Summer as she feigns deep frustration and a huge frown. One of the kids leans forward, the birthday girl.
"It says, Happy Birthday Maggie." Then she frowns and looks up at Summer. "Hey, that's my name."
"Happy birthday, Mag—WOAH!" Summer stumbles when Maggie pounces on her.
"Thank you! Thank you! You're the best, Miss Summer!"
Summer gives Maggie a little pout as if it's a way to go aw. Which she totally would do if the kids weren't around. She has this thing about acting all "adult" with them even though she acts like anything but an adult.
I tell the kids that there are cupcakes on the corner table and to only grab one as I make way to stand next to Summer.
Bumping my hip with hers, I bring my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side.
"That was really cool of you to do that for Maggie, Sum."
She shrugs, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Her brother died last year and her parents are a mess. They didn't want to come get her today to celebrate."
"How do you know that?"
"She did."
"Maggie?"
Summer hums a yes.
"Shit." I grimace. "I didn't have a real birthday until I was eighteen."
She looks up at me, tilting her head curiously. "How old are you? 'Cause I don't know how I feel about l—being friends with a thirty year old."
"I turned twenty-one in March. March twelfth." I laugh, furrowing my brows at her question. "How old are you, thirteen?"
She narrows her eyes at me. I know exactly how it sounds, I just like the way she pronounces numbers. She talks with her teeth and the timbre of her voice is always gentle, like she's worried talking too loud will hurt someone.
"That would suggest that you're friends with a thirteen year old, Noah. Doesn't sound too good."
"Seriously." I say. "How old?"
"Nineteen... nextweek."
I push off of the table and move to stand in front of her, gaping. She has a small, guilty smile on her face, her eyes on her strapped sandals and my old sneakers.
"Summer! Next week is the last week before everyone goes home!"
She rolls her eyes playfully. "And?"
I narrow my eyes at her. She didn't tell me on purpose. Something told her that I would make a big deal out of it. Whatever it was, it was absolutely right.
Maybe a surprise birthday, but maybe not because she doesn't have many friends, and neither do I. It would be a little awkward. She's definitely a card and flowers kind of girl, but that would be too easy. I gotta go big. Not so big that it freaks her out, but big enough to make her smile really big like an idiot.
That should be easy enough.
"And you should have told me. It makes me feel like an asshole."
"Noah, I didn't tell you. How does that make you a butthole?"
She doesn't say it like a toxic parent who doesn't want to admit that they're wrong. If anything, her tone is apologetic. Like, she really wants to understand where I'm coming from.
I shrug and look over my shoulder at the kids. "I don't know. It's just... it's something that friends know about each other and I don't know how we went this long without talking about it."
"I get it." She nods and reaches to squeeze my hand. "The thing is that I'm not used to that stuff. I'm not used to people wanting to know about me, so some things are going to take some time for me to, like, wrap my head around."
Then she frowns, giving my hand another semi-anxious squeeze. "I hope that's okay?"
"More than okay. Sorry for... Pushing, I guess."
She peers up with me with doe eyes and I swear my hand spills through the gaps between heer fingers because she's just made me fucking melt with the meree look on her face.
"I'm sorry for keeping that from you."
I try not to swallow my tonsils and choke... and die. "It's all right. Just a birthday, right? Not some deep, deep dark secret."
"You know all my deep, deep dark secrets, Burglar Boy."
My shoulder gets nudged by hers as she grins up at me.
I roll my eyes. "Have I ever told you how unclever that nickname is?"
"To each their own. Personally, I think I deserve an Oscar for how good I am at making up nicknames."
Poking her in the middle of her forehead, I give her hand a squeeze before making way toward the kids who are ruining my moment with Summer by deciding to fight over napkins. Napkins.
All kids this age do is make messes and they're fighting over napkins, of all things? They swipe boogers on the walls and write on everything that will keep the crayon, pen, or marker preserved long enough that it becomes impossible to freaking clean.
I decide to pull a Summer and not yell at them. Calmly, I explain to them that there are over three hundred napkins in that pack on the table and there are only thirty of them.
One of them explains that thirty times ten equals three hundred and if all of them each get ten napkins, then everything should be fine and fair. What this eight-year-old doesn't take into account, is that multiple of the kids have already gotten napkins and may not have counted how many they used, so there is a very little chance that everyone will get ten napkins even now that all three hundred are no longer in there.
When I fail to explain that properly, I nearly get stampeded and Miss Summer has to step in and go all mom on them. It's times like these that I'm glad she has kid smarts.
Realizing where she acquired them and why makes me want to strangle someone, but all in good time. All in good time.
Except not actually because I love Summer and even if a part of her hates Whatever-Her-Dad's-Name-Is, he's still her dad.
Wait... "love"? Pfftttt.
No.
Love bad.
But Summer good.
...Oh, God.
Summer is with Henah and the girls. Usually, I would be bordering on insanity, but her being gone gives me time to brainstorm ideas for her birthday.
So far, the only thing I know is that I'm going to include the girls. From what I've seen, they've all been getting pretty close. This could suggest that they have a little more insight than I do about what Summer would want for her birthday.
Yeah, sure, I could give her an old diaper and she'd say she loves it, but I need something that will make her want to plant one on me. Something so enticing and entirely her.
While I love to think I know everything there is to know about her, I don't know shit. And I guess I could kidnap Mason and force him to tell me her biggest wish.
I saved enough money from my last bank robbery, so whatever she might want, I'm sure I'll be able to get my hands on it.
No. I wish though.
Now, I could be wrong, but I doubt it—when I say that I spent every last cent on buying nail polish and everything for when I was trying to make up our terrible excuse of a meet-cute to Summer, I mean it.
Of course I have money. I do have rent to pay, groceries to buy, yada-yada, all that fun adult shit you have to deal with. And that's what the problem is. The rent and grocery money that I wish I could spend all on giving Summer the birthday she deserves.
Maybe I should start by figuring out what the actual day of her birthday is first.
Scratching my jaw, I roll the pen I've been writing ideas with between my teeth. I blow it out. of my mouth and slump against the terribly creaky, and not to mention old, headboard.
I really have to get my hands and that girls brother. He'll be my biggest ally in this, I know it.
Pushing off of my bed, I grab my shirt off of the floor and roll it down my torso. Because I rather not have Summer come in here and find my ideas with her name in my scrawly, ugly writing, I fold the piece of paper I was just writing on and shove it in my underwear drawer.
I leave the cabin and go straight for Mason's. The lights are off inside, but I know they're probably BSing. No thirteen to fourteen year old ever has fallen alseep at eight. It's video game time... or whatever these kids like to do time.
"Mason!" I call when I realize the door is closed. "It's about next wee—"
The door is thrown open and Mason steps outside, shutting the door behind him. He leans in close like he's waiting for directions.
"What are we doing for her birthday?"
I shrug. "Very small get-together. I just need to know what I should get her.
He blows out a puff of air and looks up at the clear night sky as he takes a moment to think of something his sister would want.
After a good minute or so, he says, "She's always wanted to learn how to ride a bike. I trust you know her favorite color."
I nod, waiting for more intel from my little spy that isn't actually my spy.
"I don't know your budget, but you should take her shopping, man. She'll want to pick out her own stuff."
That sounds like something that she would like. And it would mean a lot to her, too. She would want to pick out her own things, and I'm going to make sure that I give her that. Even if I have to sell a kidney on the black market.
Gesturing for him to get back inside, I tell him good night and book it back to the cabin.
Truthfully, I've got no idea where exactly Summer is or what she's doing. But I know that if she decided to come back right now, I wouldn't be able to lie to the smile that would without a doubt be on her face.
For now, I'm bringing the yellow basket back out. It can act as her fake early birthday present.
It'll be fun. I've been desperately wanting to ask Summer to teach me how to do my own eyeliner. Or at least paint my nails properly. Man, do I suck at that stuff.
She seems to like it enough to have practiced it to the point of goddamn near mastery, so maybe she'd also slightly enjoy playing mentor for a little while. Yeah, this could be fun.
And we could, like... bond and shit.