NIKKI & JOE, CASUALLY | updates every monday

10: hey google: how to give bday gift without causing panic attack

            'I thought I said to pick the music, not the noise.'

Cece's eyes cut to me, glaring from the depths of black makeup. His lip curls. 'All the music you listen to is about sex.'

I scoff. Not true. I also listen to music about love. 'All the music you listen to is about how much you hate school. How is that any better?'

'At least, I'm going to school,' they grumble, arms crossed over their chest.

'Let's not jinx it fore the term even starts, eh?' I pick up my phone despite the "don't text and drive" ad campaign at the back of my mind that reminds me not to model bad behaviour in front of my kids. 'I've got a song for ya.'

The intro to Insane in the Brain by Cypress Hill squeals from the speakers—"Who you trying to get crazy with ése? Don't you know I'm loco?"

Cece smacks me and, when I laugh, shoves again. I shield myself with one arm, elbowing them back. 'Oi! Quit throwing a strop. I'm driving a car here. You have to wait till we've parked to hit me.'

'I don't care. I'll kill both of us to get rid of you. Wait!' They turn to the window to watch the exit toward Moss Side retreat. I steer us into the city instead. 'Aren't we going home?'

I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, a strum of panic reverberating through my excitement. What's the right balance of surprise with him? Cause if I sneak into their room tomorrow morning, singing the happy birthday song, I don't reckon I'd ever come out. But I wanna do summat nice.

'Since we're already out, I reckoned we'd do more.'

'Do what?'

'It is your birthday tomorrow.' I lay the words down like stepping stones, testing each one for how much weight it can carry. 'I thought I'd let you pick out a gift you like.'

Cece's stare flees to the window to watch the storefronts of Deansgate pass.

Did I do it wrong? I reckoned if I let them choose their own gift, it would feel less like an ambush so maybe he wouldn't veer into fight or flight from it, but maybe it's a bit brusque to let someone choose their own present. I did try googling it but "how to give birthday gift to traumatised schizophrenic sibling?" didn't yield high results.

My worry is pacified when Cece's face lights up as we step into Sense of Craft, which Google did tell me is the best art supply shop in Manchester—the one with the highest reviews anyway. It's also the best one according to Caleb's reviews but considering how many jewels and sequins he needs for each drag extravaganza, he usually sticks to summat around The Works price range.

Rather than the spray paint section as I expected, Cece shuffles to the wall of markers. His hands are deep in his hoodie pocket and he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

I'd've reckoned he'd feel right at home but I suppose they've never had proper supplies before, and the ones they do have, they've mostly stolen. Makes sense that this would be a little intimidating. I look through the display of beads and rhinestones to give them their privacy.

Despite the chains on their cargo trousers, Cece can move so quietly when they want to that when he suddenly speaks beside me, my heart leaps into my throat. 'Can I have these?' 

He holds out a set of six Promarkers. 'If they're too expensive, these are okay.' In their other fist, they hold three single markers: mulberry, petrol blue, and black. 

They move the two prior into their other hand and hold only the black one out to me. 'Or just this one.'

I watch it with a furrowed brow before glancing at the selection behind him. 'Don't you want one with all the colours?' I step around him to find a Promarker box with ninety-six shades.