Neal

Chapter I

It's my birthday. 

I had almost forgotten, since it's not much to look forward to when each year is the same as the rest. No money, no presents, no one. Not that I'm jealous of the rich people who get cars or puppies just for being born however long ago. In fact, I'd rather not have a snazzy party or anything. A party would just depress me.

So, instead of waking up to a surprise birthday party with a cake and punch and a pile of presents stacked against the wall, I woke up with my ankle feeling like it could detach from my leg if I turned it too far to one side. Still, I turn it trying to loosen it up for easier walking. The ankle stings a bit but feels fine for just going around the house.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I realize Sam already left his bed. The clock on the wall reads eight fifty-eight. It's unusual for his to be up before me, but maybe he just couldn't sleep or something. Sure enough, I see him sitting at the small kitchen table with a plastic cup of water. He's reading a book: The Giving Tree.

Sam hears my feet against the wood floor and smiles. "Mick! Could you help me quick?" He turns the book to face the opposite side of the table.

I sit down in front of the book. "Where?"

He points.

"Loved?"

"Oh! Is that what that word looks like?"

I smile and turn the book back around to face him. "That word" is the best way for him to describe love, huh? Sam is only fourteen...

"So, Mick."

I look up.

"Happy birthday," he says with a raised eyebrow. His hand reaches across the table to hand me a handmade card of printer paper. 

The front has "happy bday mick!" crudely written in pencil. Squiggles and lines explode from the letters like confetti. 

"Sorry, I wasn't sure how to spell 'birthday' so I just wrote it with a 'b'."

Knowing Sam hasn't put much effort into writing or spelling since we stopped going to school, his effort makes me smile. I open the card to a picture of a bicycle. It's surprisingly accurate, with all of the spokes and gears deftly drawn. His signature, written in print like the message on the front, stands out against the bike from the bottom right corner.

"Sam, you drew this?"

"Yep!" he exclaims proudly.

"Wow... This must have taken you a long time to draw. Thank you, Sam."

"Well, let's go."

"Wait, what?" I ask, but Sam has already pulled me out of my chair. Him suddenly grabbing my wrist forces me to drop his card. I look back at it on the floor as Sam drags me to the porch in front of our house. The sun blinds me for a second before I realize the meaning behind the card.

"What do you think?" Sam drops my arm to reveal his gift to me like Vanna White.

My jaw drops and I'm speechless. I slowly walk up to two bikes, one a crimson red and one a blue-grey. I already knew which one was mine. "Sam, I love it, but how the hell did you pay for these?"

He just laughs. "C'mon, Mick. It's your birthday! I thought we could go for a birthday bike ride to the state fair. Rides don't cost that much."

"Sam, did you use the money from yesterday? You know we have to pay taxes, right?"

"Mick. Calm down. You need some fun."

It's true that I could use a stress reliever. Eventually I would have to give in.