The sun trickled in through the half-shaded windows. Only partly conscious, I looked at my watch, and dreaded my alarm, thinking it was a school day. But no alarm sounded. I looked at my alarm clock, squatting in the corner of my nightstand. I thought I heard bustling sounds downstairs. What was happening? Then it hit me. It's my thirteenth birthday! I'm finally a teen! I bet the whole family is preparing a birthday breakfast!
             I shot out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, making sure I looked somewhat presentable. I almost tripped on my backpack and shoes that lay precariously in the middle of my path.
            Damn shoes.
            I scolded myself for a second, but then remembered that I was a teen.
            I can cuss all I want!
            I stopped and smiled at the realization. This was going to be a good year. I fiddled with my hair for awhile, wondering whether or not it was worth it to spruce it up a bit.
            Maybe Mom's making French toast. Or maybe Dad's making his famous omelets!
            My mouth watered.  My mind kept racing.
           Will I get presents now, or later?
            I forgot about my hair.
            I wonder what I'll get! I know the party will be late, ëcause we haven't talked about it, but OH what a party it'll be! I'M THIRTEEN!
            Happily, I ran down the stairs and turned the corner, readily prepared to act surprised at my birthday breakfast. I almost slipped on the newly polished wood floors. My body lightly slammed into the opposite wall as the kitchen came into view. I was ready and waiting with a look of astonishment plastered onto my faceÖand ran smack into my grandfather.
             "Whoa, there, little one! Someone seems a bit eager for Thanksgiving!" the old man chuckled and enveloped me in one of his notorious bear hugs. My state of shock was real by then. His graybeard tickled my cheek. I blinked. What was he doing here? Thanksgiving?Ö
            Ohmigod! It's Thanksgiving Day!

             Yes, I am now interrupting the story. So sue me. Hey, itís my life, and youíre the one who sat down to read about a part of it. Anyway, do you know what kind of trauma I was going through? Why had I forgotten Thanksgiving? I wish my parents had at least woken me up, you know? But nooo, they let me sleep, and thus let me get scared out of my freaking wits on the morning of my birthdayÖ

             "H-hi, GrandpaÖ" I stuttered, once he let go - once I could breath again, that is.
             "George! Did you scare our granddaughter?" I heard an old lady's voice scold good-naturedly. "Look at you, April! My, how you've grown!"
             I came back to my senses as my grandmother took a turn to hug me. I beamed.
            Yes, I've grown! I'm thirteen! Youíre going to say "Happy Birthday", right? Címon -
             "AHH!" my thoughts were interrupted as I screeched in reaction to an ice cube going down my back. I whipped around to see my 8-year-old brother dive behind a kitchen chair. "DENNIS! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I threatened. But a pair of arms held me back.
             "Now, nowÖnot on Thanksgiving," I heard Uncle Andrew joke. I lightly smiled as Uncle Tom grabbed Dennis and held the screaming boy upside-down for a moment.
             "Watch out, April," Aunt Laura warned as she came through the kitchen with a massive foil-covered platter. I ducked out of the way as Aunt Maggy followed Lauraís path with arms full of kitchen appliances.
             I calmed down and surveyed the scene. One set of grandparents, two sets of aunts and uncles, and one snot-nosed little brother occupied the kitchen. That room, the dining room, and the living room were the only three areas of the house that looked organized. Everything else was a mess. My mother and father were blurs, stacking up things in the other rooms. What else was going on?
             "April, I need your help before the Morgensterns get here," my mother called from the den.
             "What, Mom? Who are the Morgensterns? " I followed the voice.
             "Honey, I told you yesterday, they are our new next-door-neighbors. They'll be joining us for Thanksgiving, along with the relatives that are already here. Here, help me take this box outside."
             "Oh, sorry, I guess my mind was occupied with other thingsÖ" I tried to hint as I picked up one side of the box. Any recognition of it being my birthday had yet to be mentioned by the family. "Wait, why are we moving this?"
             "The house is being tented tomorrow, remember? We have to make sure all the perishables are out of the house, and this box has some of the snack foods from your father's cupboards. We'll load it into the van laterÖ" We placed the box on the front porch. "Oh, April, change into something presentable, will you? What will Irene think with you in your night clothes?" my mother mentioned, before going inside.
             "Do I care?" I muttered.
             "I heard that - yes, you do. Now go get dressed in something nice. Itís Thanksgiving, for crying out loud," she ordered, then left for my fatherís den.

            The whole ordeal of the tenting had completely slipped my mind. Oh, I donít know why ? maybe because it was my birthday? Maybe I was more preoccupied with that fact?. A piece of advice ? donít get your house tented, okay? I speak from experience here. Sure, maybe I didnít remember it was going to be tented, but later, there was a lot of stuff to worry about like practically moving out, etc. Just let the termites live, I sayÖ

            "April!" I heard my 20-year-old cousin yell from the house. "I have something for you, c'mere!"
            I sprinted up the stairs to the guestroom.
            "Yes?" I popped my head in.
This had to be it. A birthday present.
             "Here," Jack chucked my hairbrush onto the bed.
             "WhaÖ?"
             "I needed a hair brush this morning. Your mom gave me yours to use. That's all. I didn't know where to put it."
             "It's called my roomÖ"
             "Now aren't you getting to be a smart alec?" Jack laughed and pulled me into a headlock.
             "Ja-ACK! Stoppit!" I whined, struggling beneath his grasp. "I'm not a kid anymore," I complained.
Wouldn't he remember that it was my birthday?
             "C'mon, I hear that we've gots some helpin' around this house to doÖ" he took me by the arm.
 Apparently not.

             How mean was that? Getting my hopes up, then bam, throwing them to the winds? I swear, my cousin is completely oblivious to anything and everything (well, heís a guy) ? then again, my whole family was that dayÖ

             I sat and munched on my Honey-Nut Cheerios in the empty breakfast area. I was taking too long to eat - they were getting soggy. Why didn't anyone remember it was my birthday? My thirteenth birthday at that. I was finally a teen, and nobody noticed.
             "Hey, Munchkin," Uncle Tom plopped down beside me. I feigned a smile. "Aw, now what's the matter? The last time you let your Cheerios go bad, you were mad because you didn't get a puppy for Christmas," he grinned. I pressed my lips together and shrugged. I couldn't just come out and say it, I couldn't just remind him that I was thirteen. He patted my head, as if I were still a child, and left to go help around the house. The Cheerios were getting heavier and soggier with every spoonful.
            "This is sooo not possible," I said softly to no one in particular. "I'm used to having my birthday landing on Thanksgiving sometimesÖbut how can they just forget it this year? THIS year out of any other year?"
             "Ay-PRIL!" the shrill voice of my senile great-grandmother echoed in my ears. With my head tilted down, I strained my eyes up to see the witch enter, pushed in a wheelchair by Uncle Tom. "Come here, let me have a good look at you," the old woman barked. I sighed and obeyed. Great-Grandmother Irene took my chin in one of her pinching, wrinkled, old hands. "I see youíre still a child," she bluntly observed out loud. I fidgeted. "When are you going to grow up and be like your grandmother, or mother, for that matter? I bet you got your fatherís genes," she muttered and let go of my chin as she finished examining me. I dared not say anything. I guess I had somewhat passed the test, or she was just fed up with me, because she moved on to Dennis. He had come to steal some food, and saw Irene and tried to run out of the room, but was whacked by her cane.

             My great-grandmother needs to be thrown into the Wizard of OZ story as the Wicked Witch of the West  (or maybe the East; she was killed by the house) ? but donít tell her I said that. I think she has it in for me - donít say I mentioned this either - itís like I have to be a carbon copy of my older relatives, you know? Iím glad she went to pick on Dennis, though - he deserved itÖ

             I sluggishly walked into the family room, for some peace, I hoped. But soon, the front door bell rang. No one made an attempt to get it, so I sighed and dragged my feet to the entrance of the house.
             "YesÖ?" I lazily swung the door open. In front of me stood a nervous looking man, a pleasant looking woman - both middle aged - and a distracted, annoyed looking boy.
             "Hello! Weíre the Morgensterns! You must beÖ" the lady began with a platinum smile, but she seemed to have forgotten my name for a moment. Her husband shifted fidgeted and the boy let out a small sigh. "ÖApril! There we go! How silly of me to forget such a pretty name!" she cooed. I stood my ground, ready with one of my signature fake smiles. I stepped aside and showed the new family in. My mother rushed by, with flour in her hair, and turned, with a new embarrassed look on her face, to greet the guests.
             "Oh, forgive me for not getting the door! Iím full of flour! Weíre running a bit late on the mealÖIím sorryÖAll the relatives, and plus the tenting of the houseÖ" my mother babbled.
             "Not to worry," Mrs. Morgenstern smiled. "Might you need any help?"
            My mother nodded in reply and led the beaming woman to the kitchen. Mr. Morgenstern fidgeted again, giving away the obvious fact that he my felt out of place without his wife. He headed to what he guessed was the study in hopes of finding my dad, or some other adult male in the house.
Normally, I would have walked off and forgotten about the boy, but this time I couldnít.
            We stood there in silence.
            "SoÖwhatís your name?" I attempted conversation.
The boy stood still, looking as if he was wondering whether or not he had to acknowledge my current existence in the space we shared at the moment.
            "Luke," I finally heard him murmur.
            "Mineís April," I chirped, then scolded myself for doing so.
            I'm thirteen - I donít have to sound so childlike!
            He didnít budge.
            "How old are you?" I pressed.
Boredom was filling the air. Again, he took his sweet time to answer.
            "Thirteen."
            My heart leapt.
            Heís thirteen too!
            His step-cut hair kept looking better than better, though he hadnít moved an inch since he came in, nor had he done anything good in particular. It looked as if his mother had forced him to wear the nice clothes he had on. He probably would have been more comfortable in a sweatshirt and oversized jeans. I hoped he would ask my about my age, but I was greeted by more silence.
            "Iím finally thirteen todayÖ" I almost whispered, wondering if he even took any notice, "Öbut nobody remembers," I sighed.
He looked up for a moment, and I could see an almost sorry look in his eyes. But the moment was cut short  - my mother called me into the dining room.
            "Um, you can, uh, help around I guess.  I dunno. Beware of Dennis, my little brother. But, uh, just make yourself at home," I mumbled as I left the vicinity of the fascinating Luke. "What, Mom?" I entered the now chaotic dining room.
            "April, please donít start with an attitude right now. This is not the time. Too much is going on. Just help me out, okay? Set the table forÖoh, I donët know for how many people. I canít think right now. Figure it out, please. Okay, honey?" my mother emerged from the cabinet doors.
            "Hey, Mom, guess what," I smiled as I got the plates.
            "What, dear?"
            "Luke is thirteenÖ" I hoped that would hint something.
            "Luke? Oh, yes, Luke Morgenstern. Well, um, good for himÖ" my mother was too busy to think. "Wait a second, AprilÖdo you like Luke?" my mother stopped and looked at me.
            "Mo-OM!" I replied in shock.
But then again, maybe I did. Who knows? He was cuteÖsort of.  He was better than most of the boys in my school, though, come to think of itÖ
            "April, I donít think you should. Youíre too young right now, leave that for laterÖ" she shuffled out of the room with an arm full of who-knows-what. I gave a huff and glared at no one and nothing in particular. What did my mother know? I was old enough! Sure, my mom could warn a 12-year-old, but a thirteen-year-old? No.

            Can you even comprehend that? There I was, being all nice and helping my mother out, then she shoots me down, bam. Do you know how hurt I was? Of course you donít; you werenít there, youíre not me. Okay, okay, Iíll continue - I stopped the story ëcause Iím still ticked off. But Iíll liveÖsomehow. Um yeah, sorryÖanywayÖ

            The food passed from hand to hand, around the long oval table. The silence during the saying of grace had now lifted. Once the prayers had been completed, everyone seemed to have something to say to one another - that is, except for Luke and me; we both sat silently and waited for our turn with the food.
            I felt something cold and mushy hit my cheek. I looked up to meet the evil grinning eyes of my little brother. But I didnít care. I calmly took my napkin and wiped my face. If they didnít care about my birthday, why did I have to care about anything? My brother made a face and turned his attention to his grandfather. I looked over at Luke. He sat, picking at his food, the chestnut bangs of his step-cut air dangling in his eyes. He didnít seem to care about anything either. If only heíd notice me.
            "Iíd like to make a toast!"  Uncle Andrew stood up and clinked his glass with his fork. I looked up. He had forgotten that some turkey was still held by the prongs.
I watched as a tiny bit of meat slowly plopped into his drink, unnoticed by anyone else. I had a faint hope that the toast would be a congratulations for me turning thirteen.
            "Iíd like to thank the wonderful people who made this mealÖ" my uncle continued.
I sighed. I had been wrong to hope. But I didnít have a grudge anymore ? the family was too busy, I couldnít exactly be mad at them for that. I caught my motherís eye and mouthed to ask to be excused. My mother made a disappointed face, but I pleaded, and succeeded in getting her to nod.

            That was just disgusting. Iím sorry, but Uncle Andrew needs to pay more attention. I think he ended up drinking that miniscule bit of turkey. Donít ask about what else went on during the meal - I zoned out. You could say I was in a pity pot, okay? No, I donít deny it. I was depressedÖ

            The wind played with my hair as I quietly sat on the swing under the old oak tree. I watched the autumn leaves play along the grass by my toes - I hadnít cared to put on any shoes. I remembered the times when I was really little, and when everyone cared about every single birthday I had - whether it happened to fall on Thanksgiving or not. I remembered my fifth birthday - thatís when my dad built the swing for me. It now creaked with all its years of use, but I knew it had a few swings left in it. I wondered if my family would manage to forget my sixteenth, eighteenth, or even twenty-first birthday in the future. Would I just get used to it - I looked at the house I had lived in for twelve, no, thirteen years. A house that was now infested with termites. A house that had held every Thanksgiving meal, and birthday party for that matter, since I could remember. But now the house had forgotten the latter, it was too consumed by termites. It had to be tented. Would anything be the same again - I shook my head and concentrated on a trail of ants that was marching up and down the old tree. I thought I heard a twig snap, but then again, it could have been the breeze over-powering one of the thin branches of the oak.
            "Hey," I heard a voice behind me.
I spun around as fast as the swing would let me, got a glimpse of what I recognized to be Luke, but then was swung back around by the swing.
Before I could get up to greet the guest, he took a seat by the base of the tree, about two feet away from me.
            "Hey," I finally replied with a weak smile.
He picked a blade of grass and rested his arms on his knees, staring at the plant in his hands, seemingly intent to slowly take it apart. The breeze blew again and his bangs got in his face. He only made an attempt to push them back once when an orange leaf had decided to nest in the wild strands of hair as well. Just as soon as he rid his hair of its first offender, another one of its kind, this time red and brown, tried its luck with the chestnut bangs. I snickered softly.
            "What?" he asked as I saw the corners of his mouth go up a bit ? almost a smile.
            "NothingÖ"
            "No, whatís so funny?"
            "Itís stupidÖ"
            "What?"
            "The leaves seem to like your hairÖ"
            "Oh, yeah, I guess," he smiled. He actually smiled. Even though I felt like an idiot, I had to admit this conversation was much better than the first one - he was talking....he was really talking. "It wasnít that stupid," he mumbled.
            It was my turn to smile, though I tried to hide it.
            "Thanks," I softly replied.
I wasnít really swinging anymore. Just rocking back and forth a bit.
        "So, itís your birthday, huh?" he broke the silence.
I blinked. Had he just said what I thought he said?
            "Y-yeahÖ" I stuttered, now zapped out of the serenity I had been sitting in for the past few moments.
            "That must suck - having it on Thanksgiving and all," Luke had finished with his blade of grass, and had now moved onto one of the leaves that had disturbed the balance of his hair.
            "Not really - Iím used to it, and it doesnít happen every year anyway - but why should it beÖ?"
            "Them forgetting your birthday and allÖ"
            "Oh," I paused.
Hard to believe, but I had almost forgotten about that glitch.
            "I take it they usually donít?" he asked.
I shook my head in response. Luke pushed his bangs behind his ears - a useless action, because they escaped again - and let out a sigh. I played with the grass between my twiddling toes.
            "You think theyíre done with that massive meal yet?"
            "Not with that grandfather of yours eating the way he was when I leftÖ"
 I laughed again and I caught a glimpse of some of Lukeís teeth when he did as well. We looked at each other for a moment in happy silence.
            "Do you think theyíre having dessert?"
             "MaybeÖyou wanna come check?" Luke got up and discarded the remains of the leaf he had been dealing with.
I got up to follow. When we reached the door, Luke stopped me.
            "Oh, by the way...happy birthday," he handed me something then disappeared inside.
It was a flower from the garden. He had probably picked it on our way backÖbut he had picked it for me.
             I reentered the dining room to find everyone in the same spots that they had occupied when I had left, so I calmly took my seat. My grandfather was roaring about some idiotic joke and kept slapping Mr. Morgenstern on the back quite heartily, causing the poor man to almost spill his drink or food time after time. Aunt Maggy kept pestering Jake about his hair while Aunt Laura reminded him to sit straight. I had to keep from grinning because he looked as though he thought he was too old for such nonsense. I placed the flower beside my plate and caught the questioning look in my motherís eyes. My father faintly smiled at my flower and continued his deep conversation with Uncle Andrew and Uncle Tom. Lukeís chestnut bangs framed his amused eyes as he watched my facial expressions change with my observations of the chattering people in the room...

             I guess people turn out differently than you expect them to, huh? Yeah. I mean, Luke certainly did. Now heís my best friend - no, nothing more, stop being like my mother, please. Well...you donít want to hear about Jake getting allergic to something in the stuffing, Grandma and Mom practically freaking out when they realized they had left a soufflé or something in the oven too long, or Great-Grandmother Irene almost killing my little brother for saying something that sounded like a cussword. The whole ordeal with tenting the house is a another story. It took forever - it felt like we were moving out of the house. Iím glad we didnít get stuck with all the leftover turkey, though.
            I bet youíre wondering whether or not anyone besides Luke finally knew that it was my birthday. My father was the one who realized it - he had been defending me while talking to Granny Irene. She had been going off about how I wasnít mature, but he said I was - he was yelling my age when he realized he was wrong. That was the best moment - seriously. The look on his and Ireneís faceÖclassic. We went out to dinner on Friday (since we were "homeless") and my parents kept apologizing. I told them it was okay - hey, I wasnít lying, that was the truth; I forgave them. Itís not a big deal to turn thirteen, I know now. Itís just another year. Sure, they gave me better presents ëcause I was older, and because they felt guilty, but so what? My best present was from my now best friendÖthat single flower I got on that not-so-life-changing Thursday.
 

©sv

~FanFic Index~
*Home*