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I climb to my feet with her help and dust off my ripped jeans. “I thought I was being followed.”
“Seriously?” She pulls out her phone. “Want me to call Doc?”
“No—it’s okay. I think I’ve been watching too many movies.” I try to brush it off because the last thing I need is to borrow trouble—or the attention of my cryptic uncle.
“That explains the near death by Darcy. And here I thought I was the one with the overactive imagination.” She puts her phone away as I take a quick glance around, confirming we’re alone. I should have known she would be here. I swear she was born with a book in her hand.
“Sorry about that.” I turn and follow her to the staircase.
“Soooooo…. Are you ready to celebrate your birthday?” She practically jumps up and down, the stairs protesting with squeaks and groans, as we head to our room.
“You know it’s not until next week,” I remind her for probably the hundredth time.
“I know, but I thought we might celebrate a little early.”
“You mean before the super-secret party I’m not supposed to know about?” I tried to conceal my smile, but fail.
She stops so quickly I run into the back of her. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Mhmm. Sure,” I tease.
She throws me an innocent look over her shoulder.
“Well, even if your uncles are planning something, I’m sure it’s not exactly lemon drop shots and dancing on a bar.”
“Definitely not.” I laugh out loud at the visual. Nope. “Wait—is that what you had in mind?”
“Shots, yes. Bar, maybe. My lips are sealed on the party that shall not be named, but I do know that they’ve had my dad working on something. They’re being so hush-hush you would think they were planning for a secret war and not a surprise party.” She slaps her hand over her mouth.
“I knew it!” I laugh as she turns back around and stomps up the stairs. “You do realize it’s not a surprise if you tell me, right?” I follow her up the narrow staircase, wondering what it is that her father could be building. He’s an engineering professor by day and inventor by night.
“You tricked me.” She puts her hand on her hip after unlocking and opening the door. “You already knew, right? Please tell me I didn’t spill the beans.”
“Yeah, I knew.” I shrug. “My uncles aren’t that great at keeping secrets.” Or are they?
“So, what do you say? Want to get a jump start on the festivities? It is Saturday night, after all.”
“I don’t know—I’m pretty exhausted, Bea.” I fall back onto my quilt-covered bed. “Plus, weren’t you just hiding out in the library, lost in a book?”
“What are you, ninety?” She laughs as she scoots some laundry over and plops down on her own bed. “And yes, but I just finished it. Spoiler: the villain gets the girl.”
I bet he does.
“You and those bad boys.” I shake my head, knowing all too well what the attraction is. “It’s just I haven’t been sleeping well…” The part about my nightmares goes without saying and hangs in the silence between us.
Beatrix knows. We’ve been roomies for a couple of years but have been best friends since the night I was found wandering in the snow. Afraid and confused, I turned down everything that was offered to me, but she snuck into my room in the night with a cup of hot tea. That simple act of kindness solidified her place in my life, and even though I don’t let many people in, well, Bea isn’t the type that takes no for an answer. So, here we are. Me playing the reluctant one, and her being relentless with the best intentions.
I stare around our eclectic space. Beatrix’s side is littered with books and an admirable mug collection. Mine is tidy and bare, except for some old boxes containing evidence of hobbies that never stuck while searching for some clue about who I really am.
“It always seems worse in December, and the closer to your birthday it gets…” she whispers.
“The more real they become.” I finish her thought and get lost in my own. It’s like every year, for every new dream, I collect a missing piece. Mine aren’t puzzle pieces though; they’re more like shards of glass. And I keep on collecting the painful fragments, no matter how deep they cut me. Because the only thing I want more than for the pain and dreams to end is answers.
And him, my mind taunts me.
So, while most people love their birthdays, mine make me feel like a ticking time bomb, like something is coming. What? I have no idea. I just wish it would hurry up and happen already so I could try and figure out how to live my life without bags under my eyes and a wall around my heart, waiting for someone who doesn’t exist.
The first thirteen birthdays of my life are a blank space. That’s why Doc and the others have always made a big deal about them. It’s a double-edged sword because according to the locket I was wearing the night I was found, not only does my birthday mark my actual date of birth but the date I was lost… or found, depending on how you look at it.
