How Cliche (Narry Storan)

How Cliche (Narry Storan) Part 8

Last year for my birthday, all Harry got me was balloons. We have this pact where we must spend ten dollars at the most and five dollars at the least on each other for every birthday or every gift-giving holiday. But last year for my birthday, Harry took me to the dollar store and made me pick out nine balloons and he added a package of string. Then, we rode our bikes to the bridge and sat there for the rest of the day, blowing up the balloons and tying them to our bikes so they wouldn't blow away.

At first, Harry insisted I blow them up myself because it was my birthday and it was my present. Then he changed his mind at the thought that it was my birthday and my present from him, so he would blow them up himself. He changed his mind a third time and decided we should split the duties and since it was my "special day", he took the liberty to blow up the extra balloon.

When they were all blown up and tied to our bikes, we took off once again. First, we went to the diner. One balloon went to Chris, one balloon went to Jerry, and one balloon went to a little boy who didn't have enough change for the pinball machines. Next, we went into town. The fourth balloon went to our resident homeless man, who smiled kindly at us and wished us a good day. The next three went to grandparents and their grandchild. When we had two balloons left-one green one on Harry's bike and an orange one on mine, we rode back to the bridge. Once there, we untied our balloons and held them. Harry told me to make a wish and on the count of three, we let go of the balloons and watched them soar to the sky.

This year for my birthday, Harry got Chelsea a promise ring. I wasn't actually there to see it-if I was, I think I might have gone home and shot myself-but I heard about it the next Monday at school. I didn't even hear it from Harry or Chelsea themselves until later because they were too busy being a couple. Instead, I heard it from the gossiping lips of Chelsea's cronies and followers.

"Did you see that rock Chels' boyfriend gave her?"

"Oh, I did! It must have cost a fortune!"

"What's that kid's name again?"

"Who cares, he's loaded!"

I care, I wanted to tell them. His name is Harry and I still care more than I should. In fact, Harry wasn't loaded and neither were his parents. But I knew Harry had money he was saving for college in the bank that he could extract with enough guilt trips towards his parents. And his parents were easily gullible.

All day long, that's all I heard. Chelsea this, ring that. Not once did I hear Harry addressed by anything other than "that kid" or "Chelsea's boyfriend." It was almost enough to make me want to scream. I wanted to find Harry and snap him out of whatever disillusioned trance he was in, or find Chelsea and ask her simply, "Why?" I'm sure she would have an answer even though my eight-year old cousin can do long division better than she can.

When the last bell of the day finally rang, I had never been more joyous. I made a beeline for the exit and ran straight into Chelsea without Harry. It took all the self control I had not to do something irrational and on impulse. She smiled at me and said in her high voice, "Niall! Have you seen Harry around?"

I blinked at her. She was asking me where Harry was. "No," I answered. In an alternate reality where I had courage and didn't care anymore, I might have followed the no up with some witty comment, like, "He's not trailing you like the lost puppy he is?" But because I have no courage and there is still a big part of me that cares, I stuttered out, "I thought you might've seen him..."

Chelsea shook her head then brought up her hand to her mouth to conceal a yawn. We were still standing near the door to the outside-I was so close to getting away-but we hadn't moved. She left her hand at her mouth and her eyes flicked down to her fingers to purposefully and indiscreetly show off her gift. My eyes followed to see the ring. My breath caught in my throat and jealousy flared inside of me. I tried convincing myself that nobody needed a ring that looked that expensive but it was just too pretty.

Chelsea smiled again when she saw me staring. "You like it?" she questioned haughtily, moving her hand side to side so the stream of sunlight that shone through the crack in the door as students opened and closed it glinted off the pale jewel and made me squint. "Harry got it for me. He's such a sweetheart."

"I heard," I mumbled. What an understatement.

Chelsea was about to reply but gasped instead. "Oh, there he is."

I turned my attention to the left where Harry was running towards us. I cleared my throat and without a goodbye, walked away. I was tempted to turn back and maybe hint to Harry that he had missed a very important current event. My mind changed when I heard Chelsea ask him if he had any plans that afternoon and he answered with a very cheery no. I had never cried over Harry, let alone any boy before, but as I followed another stream of students late from leaving school out the door, I felt tears prickling the corner of my eyes.

I walked as fast as I could to what I thought was the bus station. But because my eyes were down and I usually caught the school bus instead, I didn't notice until I was there that my feet had carried me to the diner. I didn't want to go in. Going in would mean I'd have to think about Harry because there was nothing monumental we hadn't celebrated or discussed inside that building.

But because I was obviously no longer in control of my movements, I opened the door and stepped inside. I cautiously walked over to the counter. "Afternoon, Chris," I greeted, putting on a smile so he wouldn't know anything was wrong.

He looked up from a magazine resting on top of the cash register and smiled. "Happy birthday, Niall. Anything you want is on the house," he told me, his eyes averting back to the magazine.

I smiled back and glanced up at the menu. "Thank you, Chris. That's really sweet."

Chris' cheeks flared and he closed the magazine to open the register, nervously rearranging dollar bills and mumbled, "It wasn't just me, Jerry was in on it too..." I let my eyes scan the menu for something new or something old. I didn't need Harry to try new things or share old ones. I didn't need him to have a good birthday. "So," Chris started again in a low voice. "Where's Harry?"

I pursed my lips and squinted at the menu, pretending to be fully immersed in the black lettering on the pale pink background. "I don't know," I answered stiffly. "He's wherever Chelsea is, I'm sure. But it's not like it matters. I don't need him."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Chris said quietly.

"Me too, Chris," I responded with a small sigh. "Me too."