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“Me,” I say simply, wanting to dead this conversation.
Ian, Mason – my foster brother – and I are all sitting in a booth at the burger spot next door to my job, Floaty Feelings. They’ve decided to visit me on my lunch break so they can start planning the party they’re trying to convince me to have.
“But 21 is important!” Mason chimes in, pleading from where he sits next to Ian.
“Tell me again why that is?” I take a bite of the now cold and stale fries before pushing the half empty basket away.
“You get to buy your own alcohol,” he says excitedly.
“Do that already.” I hold up the fake I.D. tucked neatly in my wallet’s I.D. case. I lace my fingers together, resting my chin on them as I raise my eyebrow to urge him to come up with something else.
“You’re not considered underage, so you can bang married chicks,” Ian offers.
“Do you ever think about anything besides pussy?” I shake my head, leaning back and throwing my arm over the back of the booth.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He looks genuinely hurt when he asks this.
My 21stbirthday was only a few days away, and like always, I’m not looking forward to it. Every year, it’s just a reminder of what I don’t have. What I lost.
When I was eight years old, my mom died in a car accident that should’ve taken my life, but I was miraculously left unscathed. That was the day I turned into an orphan. The day I became a lost soul. A nobody.
I don’t know who my dad is because my mom had to do a few things she was ashamed of to pay the rent. For all I know, my dad is probably dead too.
The only family I have is Mason. Even though we aren’t related by blood, he’s the only one from the foster home that I let myself get close to. So many social workers tried to fill that parent role, but none of them were doing it for me. None of them were what I once had. Mason is only a couple years younger than me, just turning nineteen three months ago.
Although he’s old enough to leave the foster home, he stays there whenever he’s back in town from college.
He’s a smooth milk chocolate compared to my nice California tan. His dark brown eyes shine with so much life that I almost envy him. He went through a lot growing up, but he still hasn’t let that deter him from becoming what he wants most in life. His slim frame and sharp cheekbones are already enough to have girls showing up on my doorstep looking for him. I know once he’s older, and starts finding interest in things other than school, I’m not going to know what to do with him.
I could tell a lightbulb went off in his head the moment his eyes perked up. I knew whatever he was about to say would get me to agree to this stupid party.
“You know I leave for school in a couple weeks. This will probably be the only chance we get to really hang out with each other until then.” He puts on those puppy dog eyes that I’m sure works for his social worker.
Fuck. I could already feel my mouth forming the words.
“You just had to choose a school in Atlanta.” I scrub my hand down my face before glancing at the time on my phone. “Fine. But don’t make it a huge thing.”
I already knew as those words were coming out that Ian, in fact, would make it a huge thing.
“Hell yea! This is why I fucks with you mini-Canon.” He high-fives Mason and I shake my head smirking.
Throwing money on the table, I slide out of the booth, and they follow, huddled amongst one another as they plan out my birthday. We walk over to Floaty Feelings so I can finish off my shift for the day.
“Make sure he gets home safe,” I nod my head toward Mason as I speak to Ian.
“I got this man. I’ve baby sat before.” Ian rolls his eyes while mine go stony.
“Having sex with someone while their kid is in the next room isn’t the same.”
“To-may-to, to-mah-to.” He waves his hand in the air as his other arm wraps around the back of Mason’s neck. Mason waves as they head in the direction of the skate park.
As I walk in through the glass door, the smell of cannabis hits me all at once.
The interior is dark, the walls and shelves all painted black. There’re glass display cases where we keep the different strands for customers to see. Along the walls we have various products ranging from rolling papers to edibles and vapes. The two thirty-two-inch flat screens on the back and side wall are playing the movieHarold & Kumar Go to White Castle.
I walk into the backroom to clock back in from my break and I see the store owner, Sal, heating up his leftover Chinese.
“Welcome back. That came while you were out.” He jerks his thumb to the corner where our lockers are. A small brown package is lying in front of my locker with an urgent shipping label displayed on the top. “I’m headed to Annie’s Floral shop. Call if you need me.”
