Diehard Fangirl

Chapter 3

 “And one last gift,” my mom announces in that voice that says something is up her sleeve. 

I’m sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by boxes of new clothing, and ripped purple wrapping paper. I’m really hoping that Brooke hurries up. She hasn’t arrived yet, but she called to tell my mom that she was running late. Typical.  My brother is next to Marcus, a smirk on his face as he watches me. I wish I could know what he is thinking. Then again, maybe I don’t. 

My parents' divorce happened a long time ago. I don’t really remember it. Since then, so much has changed: Mom got remarried to Marcus,  Brooke graduated high school and went off to college, and most of the time I’m stuck with Alex who either ignores me or tortures me. 

I might only be thirteen, but I sure do know that no family is perfect, even mine. There is only five of us, but we don’t pretend to have a Cinderella fairy tale existence.  Yet, we are all happy. Mom’s books began to sell a few years ago, Marcus operates a county stable, and I get to ride horses whenever I want (although Marcus keeps bugging me that I need to help out around the barn more).

The empty boxes of pizza are on the counter and the half-eaten ice cream cake is back in the freezer. As soon as we had finished with the food part of the birthday, I finally was allowed to open gifts: one dress, two T-shirts with cats on them, a pretty necklace (Marcus always gives nice jewelry, I have to admit), a headband with cat ears on them (thank you Alex), and  funny cat slippers (definitely from Marcus).

“One more?” I ask. 

“Let me think for a second,” I hear my mom say. She lifts one of her perfectly manicured fingers to her temple as if thinking really hard. “I do believe…” She hesitates and looks around. “…that I may have forgotten one present, indeed.”

I look around for another package. I had thought I opened everything. 

She clears her throat. It’s her standard call for everyone to pay attention to her.  Being a writer makes her really creative. She loves doing fun things at the holidays and on birthdays, even if it’s just the five of us…or, in this case, the four of us.

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope. With great fanfare, she hands it to me.

Suddenly, I’m excited. If she’s making a big deal about giving the gift, there’s still a chance that it’s something really good. And if it's something good then I still stand a chance of getting the Holy Grail of gifts: the iPhone. 

Now, everyone is looking at me. Even though it’s only my family, I feel nervous. What if I’m wrong? I know that I’ll cry if Mom’s big bravado is just something hokey. And I cannot cry. Not on my birthday.

So, I take a deep breath as I open the envelope and read the handwritten notecard. She loves writing corny riddles and this one tops the list: 

Wander to the place,
Where dwells mac and cheese,
Upon its small shelves,
You’ll find a gift sure to please.

She makes me read it out loud and I hold back the groan that is dying to slip through my lips. Corny or not, if this is a gift to please, I’ll deal with her riddles. 

And, as usual, she didn’t make it too hard. After all, my normal routine after school is throw backpack on floor, snuggle with a wiggling Pica, and then hit up the housekeeper for some mac and cheese. I’d worry about getting fat, but I usually go horseback riding every day. Plus, in our house, one never knows what time dinner will be served. 

So I walk to the pantry and open the door. Sure enough, right  next to the neatly stacked boxes of Kraft Mac (both the noodles and the shells, the latter being my hands-down fav), there it is: the all-too-familiar shaped box.