“Anytime you want to start with that ego boost.”
“You want me to tell you that I like talking to you better than I like sleeping? You want me to tell you that no one has ever given me a midnight birthday call and that fact that you did means I don’t think I’ll ever be as cool as you are to me right now?”
“For starters,” I said, going for a lame joke because my face felt so hot that it was borderline uncomfortable, which meant I was reaching record-breaking blushing territory. Since I knew Jolene would like hearing that, I told her.
“Yes!” was her response, hissing the word so that it tickled my ear through the phone. “You did that just for me, didn’t you?”
I did blush for her. I almost always blushed for her.
When she spoke again, her voice started to crack, and she had to swallow and start again. “You’re a really good friend, Adam Moynihan. Better than the best.”
“You’re worth being a really good friend to, Jolene Timber. I hope I get to be there when you realize that.” For some reason, that made her cry, though she tried to hide that from me, I could hear it. “You know, if you lived near me, or I had a license, I’d be at your window right now with one of those gross banana cupcakes that you like. Wait, no, I’d be wearing a trench coat, and I’d have found a giant old stereo in a pawnshop or something and I’d be holding it above my head playing...playing...” I smacked my palm against my head trying to remember the song from the John Cusack movie she’d made me watch a few weeks ago.
“It’s Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes.’”
“‘In Your Eyes.’”
“That’s pretty much the biggest romantic moment in movie history,” she told me. Her voice was back. So was my blush.
“It’s possible I might have fallen asleep during part or all of that movie.”
Her laughter was a little shaky, but it told me she wasn’t mad about my narcoleptic tendencies. “I’m surprised you remembered even that one scene.”
“You rose up on your knees at that point, and you were digging your nails into my arm the second the song started. Not real sleep conducive.”
“I love that scene. I love that whole movie, but can I still get the cupcake?”
“The fake cupcake that doesn’t exist? Sure, you can have it.”
“Did you put a candle in it?”
“I put sixteen candles in it. You can’t even tell it’s a cupcake anymore. It basically looks like a wrapper full of fire.”
“Sounds perfect. And you’d sing to me?”
“Nope, because that sounds as far from perfect as you can imagine. But I would sort of speak the words to you in an almost singing way that you’d really like.”
“I think I would like that.”
“Next year,” I told her, making a promise to myself as much as her. “It’ll be just like that—your birthday, midnight, me at your window, a gross banana cupcake, but with seventeen candles in it.”
“I actually believe you’ll do that.”
“If I wasn’t chronologically challenged at the moment, I’d do it now.”
“Thanks, Adam.”
“Happy birthday, Jolene.”
Jolene
Shoes in hand, I tiptoed down the stairs and slipped out the front door on Tuesday morning, my first as an official sixteen-year-old, sighing with relief when I made it down the driveway without Mom noticing I’d left. I rounded the corner and sped up with a grin when I saw Gabe’s minivan only to slow when I noticed Cherry in the back seat.
I couldn’t afford to stand there feeling confused, so I kept walking and let myself into the passenger seat. I said hi to Gabe, then immediately twisted in my seat, and addressed Cherry. “Hey. So no more grounding?”
Gabe smothered a laugh and started the van.
Cherry glared at him before giving me a somewhat less hostile look. “I’m still a prisoner, but since it’s your birthday and we made these plans months ago, not to mention the fact that I have a babysitter, they let me out.”
“Oh,” I said. It wasn’t exactly happy-birthday hugs and I’m-so-glad-we’re-not-fighting, but it was more than I was expecting given how our last conversation had ended. She clearly wasn’t thrilled with the grounding reprieve she was getting, which kept my voice quiet and soft. “Well, free is free, right? Sucks you have to spend part of it at the DMV.”
“Yeah.” Her face smoothed and she sighed when Gabe made a show of clearing his throat. She rolled her eyes at him. “She barely got in the car. Chill.” Then she bit her lip and glanced at me. “I got you a present. I had to order it online since I couldn’t go out but...” She handed me a tiny holographic gift bag stuffed with purple tissue paper. “It’s fine if you don’t want it.”
“I do,” I said, taking the present. “Um, thanks.” A few months ago, I’d have climbed into the back seat to tackle her in a hug before we tore into my gift together. Now I bit my own lip and I wasn’t sure which of us looked away first.
“You get that this is my gift, right?” Gabe pointed at the steering wheel and breaking the tension. “Taking you to get your license at 7:00 a.m. when I could be sleeping?”
Cherry flopped back against her seat. “He’s lying. He and the guys chipped in to get you a new lens for your camera. Gabe did a ton of research picking it out. They’re planning to give it to you at the house later.”
“Um, we did not,” Gabe said in a bad acting voice while shooting daggers at Cherry in the rearview mirror. “None of us even like you, Jo. It’s super embarrassing how you come over all the time and make us free music videos.”
Nothing in the world could have stopped me from grinning. A new lens was awesome, but knowing that the whole band had planned a gift for me... My heart felt too big for my chest. I leaned over and brushed a kiss on Gabe’s cheek. “Thank you. Also, it’s sweet that you think I’m not going to bill you.”
“Hey now,” he said, side-eyeing me and smiling. “Don’t think that gets you out of a thank-you card. And you have to act surprised with Grady and Dexter.”
“Deal.” Then I looked down at Cherry’s gift in my lap. I almost didn’t want to open it, as though good or bad, thoughtful or not, it represented the future of our friendship. We hadn’t been good for a long time, and I didn’t know how we were going to get back there or if we even could at this point. Cherry nodded when I told her I’d open it later.