❝growing old is mandatory, but growing up is optional.❞
ｗａｌｔ ｄｉｓｎｅｙ
___
"ＳＯ... this is how you're spending your 17th birthday?" Andrew tilts his head to the side as he poses his question.
I could tell he personally didn't see the appeal of us sitting here, doing nothing in particular other than watching all the cars slowly pull out of their driveways and head to work.
I scrunch my nose in reply, "Well, it beats my last birthday."
We are sat at my front porch at the top of the wooden stairs, just before the end of the railing. It had sort of become our spot when we wanted to talk out of the house, but I didn't want to go too far.
"Oh, right. You were ill on your birthday last year," Andrew recalled, not knowing 'ill' was really a euphemism for 'coma'. "It was a good thing it was right after the accident at school unless you'd have missed a lot of lessons. I remember you were off for a while."
He is talking about The Fire. It makes me sick to my stomach to even think about it.
"Hey, Luce, you're looking a bit ill now, are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," I assure him hastily, shoving a smile on my face to prove my point to him. Andrew accepts it willingly enough.
We've gone back to our old routine. The not needing to know anything about each other to still care one that we have adopted over the years in order to maintain our separate secrets. And maintaining our separate secrets we have. In the past few days since we made up, neither of us had gotten enough courage to discuss the reason we fell apart in the first place. And maybe we never will.
It was much easier to tiptoe around each other than to walk on the broken pieces.
Like Andrew, showing up at my door at 8 in the morning to wish me a happy birthday. Because a text or simply waiting till midday would never suffice.
"Have they planned anything yet?" Andrew asks, once again breaking the silence.
"It's weird," I respond, "they've been acting all secretive all morning. I'm not really sure if they are up to something, or if they've given up for this year."
"They might just be planning a surprise party," Andrew commented.
"I thought that," I counter, "but who would they invite? I don't think I'm that high up on anyone's priority in the school."
"You're high up on my priority list."
"So I'll have a dozen cardboard cutouts of you to fill up the empty spaces in the party," I say.
"Obviously," Andrew humoured. "Though maybe 2 dozen would be better. There's never such a thing as too much."
I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the amused smile surging on my face.
I couldn't be bothered to think of a reply to that, so I don't. Instead for a while, the two of us are quiet, surveying the scene in front of us.
The only cars left are a quaint red Cadillac belonging to the Gallagher's at the end of the road, and old Mrs Thourn's hatchback which she hasn't driven for over a decade, as far as I knew.
The sun only rose a couple hours ago, meaning there are still traces of gold and pink hues, painting the sky, accenting the purple edged clouds, reflecting the morning sunlight. You can still smell the crisp, refreshing air that the morning always brought, paired with morning dews dripping of the perfectly trimmed blades of grass, that every neighbourhood in Haven prided themselves of having. It wasn't exactly the Haven I used to know, but it was still a haven of some sort.
"Come on." Andrew stands up, holding his hand out to me.
"Where are we going?"
"To your aunt's bakery," he explains once I'm up standing next to him. "I think the new waitress has a thing for me, she gives me desserts on discount."
"You're taking me as your wingman?" I question, part accusingly, part out of amusement.
"We're also getting your present along the way."
"And now you've resorted to bribe," I note. "Wise choice."
"Thank you," he playfully winks at me.
❧
"Addy, there is nothing I love more than you right now," I declare, as we make our way back to mine.
"I think that's the sugar rush talking," Andrew tells me, rolling his eyes at my theatrics as I delve for another spoonful of my birthday present.
"No, but seriously, where did you even find this? They don't even sell them in the States anymore," I go on, referring to the tub of ice cream in my hand, which I had been working through like a child who just got their tonsils removed.
"What can I say, Luce? I have connections." He takes a hand of the steering wheel to tap on the side of his nose- the universal gesture that he wasn't telling.
To some, wrapping a giant tub of ice cream in sparkly blue paper and giving it to someone as a present may not seem like an ideal choice, but to me it was everything. I was still touched Andrew recalled me pining over a certain childhood ice cream flavour of mine that had ceased production a while ago. Every spoonful brought another wave of nostalgia- and not in a bad way.
It was one of the few things I remember doing with my parents.
The car is slowing down and soon, we're back to where we started our morning two hours ago.
I get out of the car, Andrew following briefly after.
"You're walking me in?" I ask him, surprised.
"You didn't think you could get rid of me that easy," he jokes as we walk up the driveway. He holds the front door open, "After you."
"And here I thought chivalry was..." I begin to tease when I notice how dark it was inside, "dead."
The house is empty. I cautiously walk into the living room, calling out to my uncle and aunt but no one replies.
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, it wasn't that late in the day, yet all the windows were blacked out. The only thing that stood out was a small red box in the centre of the room.
I approach it with a skeptic look on my face, taking the ribbon decorated lid off the box to find a large button and a note attached.
Push me.
Guessing the note was referring to the button, I do as instructed, and push down on the glowing button.
I gasp at the result. In a movement, similar to that of falling dominos, little fairy lights around the room light up to spell a message:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY EMMA!
"Surprise!" Aunt Vic and Uncle Ted say simultaneously. They came out so suddenly, it looked like they appeared out of thin air.
A moment later, Andrew walks in with a big grin on his face, but by then the message had changed, spelling out said 'Lucy' in place of 'Emma'. I guess my uncle and aunt must have a separate switch to control the lights.
"You guys planned all of this?" I ask, as I reaching over to wrap my relatives in a hug.
"We know you aren't a fan of big parties," Aunt Vic replied, "so we went for something on a smaller scale."
"Do you like it?" asks Uncle Ted.
"I love it," I assure, giving squeezing them a little bit tighter before finally letting go. I turn to Andrew, "I'm guessing you were in on it as well."
He replies with a shrug and a lazy smile, sinking his hands deeper into the pockets of his jeans, "Guilty."
"I almost forgot!" my aunt exclaimed. "We'll have some cake first then you can open up your gift."
She hurries out of the room not up to a moment later- presumably to get the cake.
"My gift?" I turn to Uncle Ted questioningly.
"It's underneath that layer," he explains gesturing to the box. I look down only noticing then that the base of the box was slightly elevated with a small finger sized half circle in the corner.
My aunt comes back in before I can considering taking a peak at what could lie underneath, though my attention is quickly taken away by the cake.
"It's your favourite," Aunt Vic informs me as she hands me a knife to cut the first slice out.
I could only grin in return.
❧
"Yes, you can open it now," Uncle Ted states, startling me. I didn't even realise I had been staring at the blue box for so long.
"Really?" I ask as I edge closer to the box, waiting until I get a confirming nod from my guardians before opening it.
Inside lay a simple heart-shaped locket engraved with what looked like intricate licks of flames.
"It belonged to your mom," Aunt Victoria tells me, while I trace my finger down the length of the locket.
"We were able to get it back a couple of days ago, along with some other things," I hear Uncle Ted say, but don't properly acknowledge his words.
"Do you want me to help you put it on?" Andrew offers, standing up from the edge of the sofa at which he was propped lightly on.
I nod in response, leading to him carefully taking the necklace out of my hands and draping it around my neck just before sealing the lock.
"Thanks," I reply as Andrew goes back to his seat.
"No problem."
"You can also read the letter now if you want," Uncle Ted continues, "or later if you prefer that."
I rummage the little box but come out empty handed.
"What letter?" I look up confusedly.
"What?" A surprised look appears on my uncle's face, "Theo's letter should still be there ..."
"It can't be lost. The only other person who's come in contact with that box is Mor–" Aunt Vic stops short, a grim look clouding her features.
"It doesn't matter, thank you," I say hurriedly. "I love it anyway. And besides, this still the best party I've ever been to."
They relax their stances long enough to chuckle at my comment.
"Well, Lucy," Andrew begins in a joking tone. "No offence, but if this is the best party you've ever been to. Remind me, when school starts to take you to a proper one."
I laugh along weakly but out of the corner of my eye I see Uncle Ted raise a knowing eyebrow while my aunt gave me a 'look'. And I knew exactly what it meant: I had to tell Andrew I was leaving.
I mouth back to her, "I will."
❧
I fulfilled my promise when Andrew was going home.
"A boarding school?" Andrew's face scrunches in incomprehension.
"Yeah," I continue softly. "I have just a bit over a week till I'm gone."
"Wait, what?" Andrew exclaims. "Why?"
I shrug, racking my mind for an excuse that wasn't too far from the truth, yet didn't reveal anything. I had a feeling Morgana wouldn't like me outing out her superhuman school.
"They start earlier so they can get more work done," I say. "It's to help me catch up with all the work I missed last year."
Both Andrew and I knew I had already caught up on the school work- it had been my excuse for not socialising for a long time, but the two of us remain silent.
"I guess it may not be a bad thing," Andrew finally concedes. "At least you'll finally be able to get out of Haven."
"For the first time in 11 years," I murmur.
More silence.
There's been too much of that between us lately.
Eventually, Andrew pushes himself off the front door, twirling his car keys in his hand.
"Well, I better get going," he says. "There is probably a 20 percent chance my dad notices I'm missing at this point."
I nod, "Bye Andrew."
"Bye, Lucy."