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I read the final card. “You have worked hard to get every clue, to find your last gift go where the coffee brews.”
“Happy birthday!”
I laugh as my family pops party poppers and the streamers rain down on Ashley and me when we enter the kitchen. As I sit down at the dining table, Dad kisses the top of my head and places a plate topped with pancakes, crispy bacon, and scrambled eggs in front of me. Mum follows quickly behind with a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
My stomach rumbles at the sight of all my favourite foods and the smell of my favourite hot beverage. “I love my birthday,” I say with a grin.
“Me, too!” Ashley is already digging into her breakfast feast.
“Happy birthday loser,” Brad says, playfully punching my arm.
I grin, wrapping him up in a huge bear hug. “Thanks for this morning.”
He squirms, trying to break free. “Whatever.” But he grins back as he tosses my last gift to me. It’s a gorgeous Augustus Brown leather satchel. Inside is a matching wallet.
“Wow, I need to get adopted into your family!” Ashley exclaims through a mouthful of pancakes.
After breakfast, while Ashley’s taking a shower, I lay on my bed flipping throughThe Diary of a Young Girl.There are highlighted passages throughout, and I’ve stopped on one that reads:Where there’s hope, there’s life. It fills us with fresh courage and makes us strong again.I run my fingers over the words, thinking of me friendship with Oliver.
“Hey dork,” Brad says, hovering in my doorway.
I roll my eyes and poke my tongue out at him.
He lets out a snort of laughter. “You’ve just proven my point.”
“You still love me,” I say sweetly. “What’s up, ya goof?”
“I thought you should know that gift is from Oli,” he says quietly.
I stare at him stupidly. “What?”
“He dropped it off the other day. When you stayed back late working on the magazine.”
Opening my mouth and closing it again, I look down at the book in my hands, flicking through the pages with green and yellow highlighter throughout. This gives the gift a whole new meaning, but one I can’t decipher. I look down at the highlighted quote on this page:I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.
I almost forget Brad was standing there until he speaks again. “Why doesn’t he come over anymore?”
My little brother looks so dejected, and it sends a new wave of anguish through me. Oliver hasn’t just bailed on me, he’s bailed on Brad too.
“I don’t know, mate.” I don’t want to get into everything that’s happened between us this year.
“It sucks.”
Yeah, it does.
22
I wake up on Saturday morning with every intention of talking to Jake, but he stayed at his girlfriend’s house. Mum’s not at home either – she has open houses all day. It’s Hannah’s birthday. This is the first year since I had the chicken pox that I haven’t been with her on her birthday. Brad and I always put together a treasure hunt for her presents. I wonder if he’ll continue the tradition this year.
I write and delete no less than fourteen text messages to her, but nothing sounds right. Everything just sounds like pathetic excuses – because they are. She’s eighteen. This is a huge milestone for her. I want to go over there, but I ignored her call on Thursday, and I feel so guilty about it. I’m the worst friend. I just hope Brad at least passes on my present to her. If she reads it, it might let her know that I haven’t completely given up on our friendship. I just don’t quite know what to do to save it.
While I wait for Jake to get home from Kenzie’s house, I try to come up with a plan to make it up to Hannah for her birthday. I think back to my birthday and the Geelong football guernsey that Hannah gave me. I need something meaningful to her.But what?She’s not into jewellery. I already got her the Anne Frank book. What else would mean a lot to her? What else does she love?
Sighing, I move over to the shelf in the living room that holds our family photo albums. I pick one up and flip it open. My gut twists as Dad’s face grins up at me. He’s in our backyard with a football in his hands and he’s lining up a kick. I flip forward a couple of pages. Sam, Jake, and I have our arms wrapped around each other with matching smiles. We’re pretty dressed up. It must’ve been from a wedding or a christening. I flip a few more pages and there’s a photo taken at the beach about three years ago. Jake has buried me and Sam in the sand, Hannah sits behind me, chewing on a pen with a notebook open on her lap. She has a serious look of concentration on her face and is completely oblivious to our crazy antics. I forgot how wrapped up she gets in her writing.
That’s it.That’s what I’ll get her. A journal! But not just any journal. A journal with her name embossed on it.
I grab my bike from the garage and ride the ten kilometres to Bluebird Books where she works. She won’t be there today - they would have given her the day off - but a part of me is still a little disappointed to see the owner’s son, Logan, standing behind the counter. Together we pick out a blue leather journal. It’s pretty close to her favourite colour – turquoise. I wait patiently for ten minutes, while Logan sets up the embossing machine. She’s going to love this gift.
