“Have you checked your Facebook yet?” Candace asks after Spanish class. “I left you the cutest panda pic.”
I take out my phone and check. There are so many birthday greetings. I could spend the whole day going into Gwen’s memory to figure out who all these people are.
“Isn’t that the cutest?” Candace asks.
I look at the photo—it’s a panda from the National Zoo cuddling a baby panda. They look like the happiest pandas I’ve ever seen.
“That’s adorable,” I say. Then Candace gives me a hug and heads to a classroom that isn’t mine. I have about a minute before I have to be in physics. I type Rhiannon’s name into the search field. But before I can click, Lizette is at my side, asking me if I saw the photo Candace left me, then asking me if we did the cookie thing this morning at home.
I use the minute I have to talk to her. Then I put away my phone.
Moses must still be in pain.
Moses must be wondering what happened.
Moses must be afraid to go back to school.
Everyone must be talking about what happened to Moses.
Maybe they’ve seen the video.
What will that do to him?
Emily blindfolds me on the way to lunch. She leads me, and I trust her. We don’t go to the cafeteria, but to a corner of the library. There, Emily leads my friends in what can only be called a choral birthday medley, with the Beatles’ “Birthday” song featured prominently. There’s an apple with a candle in it, surrounded by other apples. (“We know you’ll be getting enough cake later.”) My friends toast me with apples. Then we go to the cafeteria and get real lunch. They don’t let me pay for mine.
I want to get my phone. I want to go on Facebook and look for Moses Cheng. Even though I know he’s not going to post anything.
And Rhiannon. Even though I feel farther away from her than ever.
“Oh no,” Connor says. “She wouldn’t dare.”
I look up from our table and see a girl walking over. Before I can figure out who she is, she’s in front of me, holding out a blue box tied with a yellow ribbon.
“Here,” she says sweetly. “Happy birthday.”
Lizette puts out a hand to stop me from taking it.
“Uh-uh,” she says. “Dee, you are not invited to this party.”
“What?” Dee snaps back, all sweetness gone. “I’m not allowed to give her a present?”
Lizette stares her down. “The only present she ever wanted from you was some love and honesty. But you gave that present to Be-lin-da instead, and we do not allow regifting at this particular table.”
Dee pulls the box back. “Okay, fine.” Then she looks right at me. “You can’t say I never tried. This is me trying. And look at how well that goes.”
She heads off, and even before she’s out of earshot, Lizette, Emily, Candace, and Connor are all asking me if I’m okay, in a way that makes it clear that they are expecting Gwen to be a wreck.
“I’m fine,” I assure them. “I’m great.”
Which is true, because I still don’t know who Dee is.
Lizette high-fives me. “That’s my girl,” she says.
The mood turns even more celebratory, as if I’ve just vanquished a dragon.
They’ll all be so disappointed when it goes back to normal tomorrow.
Unless…
I get out of my seat.
“Where is she?” I ask, scanning the cafeteria.
Connor points to a corner. “There. Why?”
“I need to tell her myself. To never do that again.”
My friends look surprised, but they also look happy—and they aren’t stopping me.
I walk right over to Dee’s table. She’s already laughing with her friends, probably about me. When she finally sees me there, it’s her turn to look surprised. I notice the present is nowhere in sight.
“What?” she says. “You let them talk to me like that and then you come over here? What’s that about?”
“It’s about this,” I tell her. “It’s about me not needing them to tell you off. It’s about me telling you off firsthand, and telling you to never pull that shit again. I am done. Completely done. And I wanted you to hear it from me.”
I don’t give her time to respond. Partly because I’ve started shaking. Like my body is trying to tell me something.
As I’m walking back to my table, I can already see my friends cheering. They think I’ve done the right thing. I thought I was doing the right thing. But who was I doing it for? Gwen? Me? Moses? In the pit of my stomach, I’m wondering: What if she really loves Dee? But I don’t let myself check. What’s done can’t be undone.
“That was beautiful,” Lizette says as soon as I’m back in my seat.
“Best birthday resolution ever,” Emily chimes in.
“Best start of a birthday year ever,” Candace agrees.
And it’s Connor who asks it again: “Are you okay?”
I tell them again that I’m great.
But this time it feels more hollow than before. And I’m not even sure why.
* * *
—
Gwen has a lot of friends. They are there in the halls and in her classes. They are there on her Facebook page. And they are all there at her house for the party that night.
Everyone in the family and many of my friends have chipped in with decorations, so it’s like every age I’ve already been is represented—construction paper cutouts and crayon drawings alongside a supercut of the past year playing in a loop on the TV screen. Friends laughing. Friends in costumes. Friends singing. Gwen at the center of it all.
I work hard to keep track of who’s who, but I can barely keep up. April (age four) hangs by my side and provides a good diversion, especially because a lot of my friends have to introduce themselves to her and explain who they are.
Then the moment comes when the lights are turned off and a cake is carried in, its eighteen candles (“One for good luck!”) flickering to show me all the friendly faces who’ve gathered to celebrate with me. “Make a wish!” Gwen’s mother calls out, and I want to wish for word from Rhiannon and I know I should wish for Moses’s speedy recovery, and I get tangled between the two and debate in my head for too long, to the point where they can all see me deliberating and they find it funny. I wish for Moses’s speedy recovery, and then the minute the candles are blown out, my belief in wishes is also extinguished, and I feel ridiculous for being so anguished and feel disgusting for taking Gwen’s wish and using it for myself.