The Anatomy of a Broken Heart //Completed//

55. Santana

Thursday came and went without much fanfare, though Maria did burst into my room singing "Happy Birthday" at the top of her lungs at six in the morning. I could only listen while she sang as my eyes were practically glued shut with sleep. Then she went and sang again in Spanish for good measure. As a present, she gave me a small square package wrapped in pink cellophane. My fingers fumbled with the ribbon bow which was double knotted tightly around the paper. At last, I just tore into it to a chorus of giggles from Maria who sat impatiently at the foot of my bed while I struggled. Inside the box is a delicate silver necklace with a little, clear resin ball at the end of the chain. When I looked more closely at the pendant, I noticed a bright yellow flower pressed into it.

"Do you like it?" Between her fingers, she played with a necklace of her own. "It's just like mine."

"I love it." I reached over and hugged her, laughing inwardly at the smell of flowers in her hair. She was a garden and I was a weed, but at least I knew she'd forgiven me about the fight we had before.

Dad's gift giving abilities extended to a birthday card with some money in it and a hot breakfast. He looked thinner than usual and refused to eat with us, claiming he wasn't hungry, but I knew the pain was making him nauseous.

At school, everyone was very discreet when they wished me a happy birthday. I've never been a fan of growing older so they knew not to make a show out of it. During lunch, Zealand pulled me aside and gave me a large, poorly wrapped package. Beneath the crinkly wrapping paper, was a black picture frame holding a picture of me, laughing with my teeth. I could almost hear the laugh through the glass on the frame. It wasn't the one he'd promised to give me in the gallery that time, the one of me and Jasper, and I was grateful.

"You have a talent for making anyone look pretty," I said.

"You can't fake that smile," he countered, tapping the picture, flashing me one of his own rare smiles. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, channeling all the gratitude I felt into that embrace because words always failed me. Marlow looked on from behind us, holding something that looked suspiciously like a present in her hand. When I let go of Zealand, she jumped between us, practically pushing him out of the way.

The little bag in her hand contained only chocolates. "In place of a birthday cake, since you hate them so much," Marlow said.

All in all, it wasn't a disaster of an eighteenth birthday.

I bumped into Caleb during lunch, quite literally. My head was ducked down, wary of Maria jumping out of thin air for a fifth birthday hug when I crashed into him in line.

"Hey," he said when he realized it was me. "Sorry."
"My bad," I muttered. Yesterday we'd done an awkward sort-of-ignoring-you dance. He'd gone to the classes we shared but asked to leave in both of them, and he wasn't anywhere during lunch. If ever I saw him in the hall, I quickly looked away, avoiding catching his eye. Despite myself, I felt a little hurt. He was obviously still upset with me, though I had promised I'd do something about Greg. I would do something about him, but I still didn't know what. If I told Moises, and got him fired, he'd just go to another job and bother girls there. If I went to the cops, there was no way they'd take me seriously.

"How are you?" Caleb's voice pulled me out of my reverie.

"Fine. Good."

"Good."

"Mhmm." I nodded slowly. If the ground opened up beneath my feet right then, I'd gladly let myself be swallowed whole.

"Listen, I—"

"Hey, Caleb." Jonah cut in front of the others to get to us.

"Oh, hey man." Caleb didn't smile.