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After finishing up as quickly as possible, I stand up and drop my plate off in the sink. Penelope rushes into the room and I pretend not to notice the sly nod that she aims at Mom.
“Good morning, Miss Jackson, and Happy Birthday.” Penelope lunges forward and gives me a hug, one from her never fails to warm me right from the outside in.
I’ve given up telling Penelope not to call me Miss Jackson. She’s worked for us for years, practically raised me while my parents both maintained their busy schedules. Come to think of it, Penelope has hugged me more times in my life than both my parents combined. But despite me reminding her countless times that formalities aren’t required between us, she likes to remain professional.
“Come, darling, we’ll walk you to the door.” Mom grabs my school bag from the back of my chair and rushes me out into the hall. Father doesn’t bother getting up, or even say goodbye, but I don’t expect him to. Like Mom often reminds me, Father isn’t a ‘morning’ person. He isn’t much of an afternoon or evening person either in my opinion.
Ushering me to the front door, Mom is failing to hide her excitement, and my eyes stretch wide in disbelief when I notice the shiny black Mercedes SLK convertible parked on our drive.
Forcing my eyes off the sleek looking car, I look back at Mom, and the nod of her head is all the confirmation I need.
This baby belongs to me.
“I love it. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Mom’s tiny frame almost topples over when I fling my arms around her neck and squeeze.
“Don’t forget to thank your father,” she reminds me, and I rush back through the house and find him sitting exactly where we left him.
“Thank you… for the car,” I tone down my excitement, knowing how he likes things calm, and feel awkward as I gently place a kiss on his cheek. He stretches his neck slightly to receive it but doesn’t take his eyes off the article he’s reading. I thank him again, tell him it’s the best present I’ve ever received.
“You’re welcome,” he responds, blank of any emotion, and so I leave him to his paper.
“Ella…” he calls out just before I make it out of the kitchen. I spin around and smile.
“Don’t scratch it,” he warns, again without bothering to look up, and I feel the smile instantly drop from my cheeks.
My dad is a hard man to understand, I’ve spent years trying to create a Father-daughter bond with him but he’s just never seemed interested. He’s a Federal Judge and I appreciate that he’s under a lot of pressure. I can handle his detachment from me. What I can’t tolerate is the way he constantly takes his shit out on my mom, she’s become a pro at keeping up the pretense that everything is perfect. And I play along, mainly because I know it’s me who she puts the act on for more than anyone.
Back outside, Mom holds out the keys to my new car. I take them from her hand, then squeeze her with another hug before opening the driver's door and getting behind the wheel.
“This is so exciting. I’m gonna call Abby, see if she wants to take a ride with me later. Don’t worry I’ll make sure I’m back in time for dinner.” Mom will have organized for Penelope to work on some elaborate dinner for us all tonight. I don’t want her worrying about me being home late.
“Oh darling, Daddy has a business dinner this evening at the Senator’s. It’s important. We were hoping you wouldn’t mind celebrating your birthday another night.” Her awkward smile reflects how terrible she feels, so I go easy on her.
“Sure, I’ll see if Abby wants to go out for dinner,” I shrug, convinced that I’ve done a good enough job of pretending not to be bothered.
“Great idea, sweetheart. I knew you’d understand. Wait right there…” Mom runs back inside as quick as her heels will allow, returning a few moments later clutching her purse.
“Here…” she takes out a few hundred dollar bills and holds them out to me,“…Our treat, go somewhere nice.”
I take the money and let her kiss my cheek.
“Happy Birthday, Ella.” She gives me her well-rehearsed smile, one that doesn’t quite hide the sadness in her eyes, and I smile back as if I haven’t noticed, because that’s what we do for each other.
I start up the engine of my new ride, pulling off the drive of our perfect suburban mansion and head for another day of school.
I make it to my locker just as the bell rings for first period, and I grin to myself when I see that it’s been decorated with pink balloons and an oversized pink bow. It has to be Abby’s work, and I brace myself for a surge of energetic enthusiasm when I hear her loud screech come from behind me.
“Hey Birthday Girl.” She throws her arms around my neck, leaving a thick film of lip gloss on my cheeks after she kisses them both.
With her deep red hair and bright green eyes, Abby never fails to stand out from the crowd. She’s short, fiery, and has no filter, which is exactly why I love her.
“Sooooo, rumor going around is…” she beats out a drum roll on my locker door, “…there’s a new guy started today, and he is hawwt. Trina saw him coming out of Kutcher's office earlier and apparently…” placing her hand on her chest she dramatically mocks Trina’s southern drawl, “he is man in its finest form.”
I snort a laugh back at her, but my mood rapidly changes when I notice Luke on the other side of the corridor, propped up against his locker surrounded by all his football crones, his usual scowl directed right at me.
Luke Robinson hates me, has done since he asked me out on a date last year and I actually dared to turn him down.
Unfortunately for me, the unwritten school code dictates that if the captain of the football team hates you, the rest of the team, the cheerleaders, and just about anyone else who cares about being popular hates you too.
