On the morning of the beginning of my 14th year of life, I woke up to the jarring trill of a fire alarm. I immediately pushed back my covers and jumped out of bed, disoriented. My feet hit the freezing bare wood of my bedroom floor and I shivered involuntarily. When will my parents get me a rug? I thought angrily.
I didn’t have time for more than a second to be mad however, because the alarm was still buzzing. I grabbed a sweatshirt hanging by my bed and my glasses. I stumbled toward the door, pushing the glasses to the bridge of my nose. The handle wasn’t hot?an indication of fire on the other side?so I pulled it open. I rushed down the hallway and hurried down the stairs. Along the way I tried to sense where the fire was. I knew that hot air would indicate I was close but I remained cold as I made my way through the house.
Eventually I made it out the front door and onto the driveway, nearly running into my parents. My mom was hugging my ten year-old brother, Tommy, and her brown hair had escaped a loose ponytail. My dad stood to her side, his arm half-hugging her. All together they looked like a complete family and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy blossom in my stomach. Ever since my brother had been born, he was their main focus.
It’s my birthday, shouldn’t they be worried about me? I thought.
“Arden, there you are!” my mother exclaimed, answering my question. I saw her shoulders and furrowed brows relax ever so slightly, as though a weight had been lifted. She started talking frantically, “We didn’t know if you were ok? where were you? what happened? is there a fire?”
“Elizabeth, calm down,” my father said, interrupting my mother’s frantic rambling. He looked only a little calmer himself but tugged my mother a little closer. “We’re all out now.” He looked up at our house and I wondered if he was looking for a fire.
“Where’s the fire? I didn’t feel any heat when I came down,” I noted. I was puzzled and still a little hurt about my family. Even though it was foolish?and my mother’s exclamation had proved that they had been worried about me?I couldn’t help thinking one of them should have rushed back in the house for me.
“We didn’t feel any either,” my dad said. His features were pulled tight with concern. I wondered how much sleep, if any, he had gotten. I knew that last night he had stayed up late for a complicated architect commission and I could see bags under his eyes. Suddenly, a loud sound interrupted my examinations. This time, it was the sound of a fire engine.
The huge cardinal red beast was tearing past the rows of suburban homes surrounding our own. Someone must have called them, I guessed. I glanced around where I stood on our driveway and was surprised to see a number of worried-looking neighbors. In such a quiet neighborhood, a fire alarm was probably the most exciting thing to happen since Eddie Oden put up a lightning rod during a storm and got electrocuted. (Everyone still called him Electric Eddie and laughed when he passed).
Self-consciously I looked down at what I was wearing. I groaned. I was in my favorite?and worst-looking?pjs. The sweatshirt I had hurriedly grabbed in the dark was still clutched in my arms. It was an old and faded one but looked better than my ratty pajama shirt. I pulled it on, just as firemen streamed out of the truck and into our house.
It only took a short time for the firemen to find the problem?a faulty smoke detector?and soon we were allowed to go back in. Everyone watching soon discovered that nothing was wrong and left. I swear I even saw some disappointed expressions, as though they had wanted the house to be on fire. Maybe they thought it would look cool on Instagram, I thought quietly. I rolled my eyes.
The firemen also left, quickly loading into their truck. I could hardly wait to go back to bed. I was cold and sleep-deprived. The ‘fire’ had caught us in the middle of the morning and based on the gray sky, I suspected it to be around four am. But, as soon as I glanced at the time, I realized there would be no more sleep for me. It was Tuesday and I had just ten minutes before I had to leave for school.
Today was supposed to be the perfect 14th birthday, I thought grumbly as I rushed into my room. My outfit was hanging in my closet, having been carefully selected yesterday. I pulled it on, checking my reflection in my mirror. Of all the houses! I sighed. Please don’t let anything else bad happen.
I was on the stinky yellow demon known as the school bus before I had even eaten breakfast or checked the inside of the house. I had chosen an empty seat in the back because I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. No, the person I desperately wanted to talk to was my best friend, River. I wanted to tell her about the morning fiasco and have her tell me that the rest of my birthday would be great. She was always understanding and nice, but stormy when she wanted to be. She was actually very much like her namesake.
I almost pulled out my phone to text her, but held back. I wanted to be surprised by what she had planned for my birthday, hopefully it would make up for the ‘fire’. Besides, I was almost to the school. I scrambled off the bus as soon as it lurched to a halt and practically bolted to my locker, slowing only when I passed the principle. Soon I turned the final corner and found?
Nothing. A normal, blue wall of lockers faced me. There were no balloons. No signs. My friends haven’t bothered to decorate my locker. The realization hit me just as River appeared on my left. She grinned at me like everything was fine. Inside, I felt like I could throw up.
To some people, decorating a locker for a birthday is no big deal. But at my school, posters meant friends. Balloons meant people cared. Even one scrawled note sticking out between the slits meant someone had at least remembered. Now, I was facing none of that. It was probably the most important day of my year and no one had remembered!
I whirled on River. “What the? I mean why? River!”
“What?” she asked innocently.
“You forgot my birthday?” My voice was loud. I was in disbelief.
“It’s your… OMG! I totally spaced!” she exclaimed, one hand coming to her mouth. She glanced at my locker, coming to the same realization as I had. “Oh, no! Arden, I’m so sorry!”
There was some emotion besides shock in her bright blue eyes but I couldn’t place it. I didn’t bother to think more about it. Instead, I wordlessly walked closer to the dismal bare metal of my locker door. My voice became silent as I put in my combo. I guess this is the final phase of grief: acceptance.
“What’s wrong?” asked a girl to my right. I numbly recognized her as Grace, a friend from science class. She was frowning, oblivious to the panic that had taken hold in my stomach. I didn’t want to cause a scene so I stayed silent. When no one answered her, Grace asked again, “Guys, what’s wrong?”
“Um...it’s Arden’s birthday,” said River, looking guiltily at her Converse. I didn’t see Grace’s reaction but I heard a gasp.
“Oh, Arden! I can’t believe I forgot!” Grace exclaimed. She took a hesitant step toward my locker. She looked like she was trying to will decorations to appear. I shrugged but still held my silence as I finished putting away my stuff. A lump had formed in my throat and I felt the pressure behind my eyes that meant I was close to tears. No, I mentally told myself, I will not cry in the middle of school on my birthday.
It was hard to focus on much besides keeping the waterworks at bay so I almost missed River ask if I was ready for math. I nodded. I could at least try to act like I was ok. I could try to act like everything was fine.
* * *
The first part of the day passed in a blur. I just couldn’t believe my friends had forgotten. Throughout the day River tried to remind people of my birthday but it always came as a surprise to them. With each widened eye and raised eyebrow, my shoulders sank a foot. I would surely fall through the floor before the day was over. Couldn’t just one person remember?
“Bon anniversaire, Arden.” My glum day was interrupted my my French teacher, Madame Penelope. I had walked right past her on my way in but turned back in surprise at the ‘happy birthday’. She was smiling, her small spectacles resting, as usual, skewed on her nose. Even though she was short, her wild hair added a few inches so we were almost the same height. She was always nice and liked me because I was good at French, unlike a majority of the class.
“Merci, Madame,” I replied. I smiled. At least French class will be ok, I thought.
I was proved correct as soon as I took my seat. Madame Penelope had settled the class down and had put a picture of my favorite city on the projector screen. “This is Paris,” she started, pronouncing it ‘Par-ee’ it her beautiful french accent. “It is many things: the capital of France, the city of lights, and, perhaps most famously, the city of love. Out of curiosity, has anyone been there?” I saw one hand fly up and I immediately felt jealous.
Paris was my personal paradise. I had dreamed of the city ever since I started French class, at the beginning of 8th grade. I knew everything there was to know about it: where to get the best macaroons, when the best time to visit the Eiffel Tower was, and even the history of the Arc de Triomphe. I had been dropping hints to my parents for months that the only thing I wanted for my birthday was to go there, but with state my day was in, I doubted they even remembered I was their daughter.
“Intéressant, just one person? Well, then I guess there’s alot for me to teach you,” Madame continued, turning to the projector. She started with the basics: what the Eiffel Tower was, what Parisians did, what they ate. I tuned out and just focused on the pictures she showed. I had heard the information before and all I wanted now was to experience it. I imagined myself in every image. I imagined I was standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower. I imagined I was looking up at the Arc de Triomphe. I imagined I was admiring artwork in the Louvre. I even imagined myself in Le Grenier à Pain, eating one of their famous baguettes.
Just as Madame reached the last slide, the bell rang. Everyone seemed eager to leave, but I lingered. The image on the projector showed a tower of croissants, their butter glittering in a storefront window. I desperately wanted to reach out and grab one of the delicious pastries. I could practically feel the flaky layers melt in my mouth.
“Arden?” Madame Penelope asked, breaking me out of my reverie. She appeared at my shoulder with her eyebrows drawn in concern. “Is everything d’accord?”
“Oui, Madame,” I answered. “I just… I really wish I could go there.” I gestured at the screen.
She nodded her head sympathetically. “It is a grand city. Perhaps you might go for a birthday present?” She winked. I stared, what could she mean? I knew Madame Penelope was close to my parents; did she know something about a birthday present from my parents? Before I could ask, the bell interrupted me; I was late for my next class.
I jogged to science just before Mr. Lance took attendance. He didn’t seem to notice my tardiness. My mood had lifted after French but I was still hung up on Madame Penelope’s cryptic message. All through lunch and my last classes of the day I thought about it. Could she have been trying to tell me something? Maybe she had just accidentally twitched her eye.
Whatever the case, I was still mulling over it as I rode the bus back home. Again, I sat alone, but this time I was in much lower spirits. I definitely hadn’t forgotten what a bust the day had been. I mean, my best friend had forgotten about my birthday! That never happened to anyone else. I also thought about my startling wake up call this morning. I guess I’m just unlucky, I thought disheartenedly.
A few minutes later I was standing at the edge of my driveway, staring at my house. A shadow moved in the window and I narrowed my eyes. My dad was still supposed to be at work and my mom said she would take my brother to t-ball. If it wasn’t them, who was in my house? I took a step toward the house. Then another. The idea that I might face an intruder alone scared me. I pulled out my phone, my finger hovering above the button that called 911.
I approached the door and took out my key. It slid into the lock with a click. Slowly, I turned the small piece of metal. I took one deep breath and pulled open the door?
“Happy birthday!” There was a scream and it took me a couple seconds to realize it was my own. Slowly, I tuned into my surroundings. I had walked into a surprise party! There was no intruder! I was safe!
“Happy birthday Arden,” came a voice to my left. A second echoed it and then a third. There were so many people that it was hard for me to thank every single one of them. I saw River and Grace and Kelly and Ashley… I tried my best to identify them all but I was overwhelmed.
Past the faces, I registered was that my boring house had been transformed. There were streamers hanging above our living room and balloons bouncing around our foyer. I even spied an array of food spread out on our kitchen island as well as a huge vanilla cake?my favorite flavor. How did this happen? I wondered.
Eventually I found myself standing in front of my parents, an excited look on their face. They were both holding their hands behind their backs.
“Arden,” my mother started. “We know that you think we don’t notice you, what with Tommy and all.” I tried to protest?obviously this made up for all of that?but my mom gave me a look that stopped my objections. “We just want you to know that we do notice and care about you. And that we’ve noticed all the times you’ve hinted at what you really want for your birthday.” My heart stopped, could this be happening? First the party, now…
“Arden, how would you like to travel to Paris with us over spring break?” my father finished. I let out a squeal. They each pulled out two first-class tickets and passports from behind their backs. I ran into their arms so fast that I nearly knocked them over. “Woah there, you’re cutting off my circulation,” my dad said, laughing. I was hugging them tightly; they were the greatest parents ever.
“Wait…” I started, stepping back, “How did you organize this? Oh, I have so many questions...”
* * *
I had a weird feeling of deja vu as I walked down the hallway the next day. River had texted me to say she was going to be at my locker with a birthday surprise and I eagerly glided through the halls, feeling almost giddy. The plane tickets had been an amazing surprise and the party with my friends had been just as awesome. It had felt like huge weight lifting off my chest when they all told me that they had faked obliviousness. Laughing, I had said I should have suspected something was up because of their bad acting.
Soon I reached my locker and saw what I had expected yesterday. There were posters. There were signs. There were even a few notes shoved between the slits, although they didn’t looked scrawled. I could tell my friends had put a lot of work into decorating my locker and I loved it. They were all crowded around it too, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as I approached. I could’ve cried.
When they finished, all of them pointed out their signs and laughed about how some were covering others. Eventually they all had to scramble to class and I was left alone with River. I started unpacking my things, pulling out what I needed for my first classes.
“Is it everything you hoped?” she asked as I shut the locker. She was one of the few who had heard my outbursts yesterday. She now seemed amused by it. Still, I could tell she really wanted to make up for deceiving me; she was leaning forward anxiously.
“Everything and more,” I replied, pulling her into a hug. Even though the present had been my parents’ idea, River had planned the party and organized the whole affair. I had heard about the general-like way she instructed everyone at school to make sure I wouldn’t suspect a thing. Hearing about how much work she had put into my birthday brought tears to my eyes. I told her so as we broke apart. Her face shone like the sun. Suddenly, a mischievous grin appeared on her mouth.
“Well,” she said, “I expect the same from you when it’s my birthday?just so we’re even.”
I laughed. “Of course.”