Nobody Cares But You

Part One

Sometimes I wish I had never made that choice. That single decision that changed my life, both physical and social, forever.

It all started on my fourteenth birthday. One of my friends came over with a very special gift.

"Quincy," she said with a big smile, "how are you?"

"Not bad, for a birthday," I replied. 

She laughed; she got the joke. For the past six years, every single birthday I've had has been ruined in some way. My eighth birthday cake was smashed to smithereens by our chandelier, which had suddenly and mysteriously fallen while my family sang "Happy Birthday". My ninth birthday cake was caught on fire by the candles, which had flared much higher than they were supposed to. My tenth birthday was practically forgotten. My eleventh. . . well, you get the idea.

Anyway, it had been half a day already, and nothing had happened to sabotage my fourteenth birthday. Yet. 

I let my friend, who was named Brynlie, inside my house and she set down her tiny box on the ground.

"Open it," she said. I reached for the gift and ripped off the paper.

"Oh, it's beautiful," I said softly, reaching inside the little box and lifting out the silver chain. A small treble clef, made out of silver and studded with little diamonds, sparkled in the sunlight coming through the front windows.

"Put it on," Brynlie said, "I thought you would like it; you seem to enjoy music."

I clasped the chain around my neck, pushing my curly dark hair out of the way.

The metal was cold against my sternum, but I didn't mind. The necklace was gorgeous.

I stood. "Thank you, Bryn."

We hugged briefly. Some of my weirder friends seemed to ship it, calling us "Bryn and Quin" or "Quinlie." But they were wrong: Bryn and I were just friends, best friends. Maybe even sisters. But we would never be in a relationship like that.

"Let's go out for a walk," Brynlie suggested. I shrugged. "Sure," I said. "Mom, we're going out."

"Okay, just be back by six," my mother called from the kitchen. I smiled at my friend, and we exited my house.

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We were walking along the street when three teenage boys swaggered around the bend. They smirked at us and walked up.

"Hey, ladies," one of them said, "Where you headed?"

"None of your beeswax, Clay," Bryn said forcefully. I recognized him too; he was this really obnoxious kid at school that always seemed to like me and Bryn in a decidedly creepy way.

Clay raised a sandy eyebrow. "Wow, Bryn's triggered."

One of his buddies, who I recognized as another obnoxious boy named Peter, said, "What's got ya so upset, Grayson?"

Brynlie reddened. She hated it when people used her last name only. "For one thing, you," she sniped, "for another, will you three quit hitting on us? It's getting tiresome."

The third guy, Victor, looked offended. "Hitting on you? What makes you think that?"

I stepped forward, my face going as red as Bryn's.

"Shut up, you little--" I said, but Clay interrupted me with a derisive laugh.

"Being the little hero, aren't you Quincy," he said with a mocking snort, "Well, it's not going to work. Who's gonna stop us?"

I grabbed Brynlie's arm and gave Clay, Peter, and Victor each my best malevolent glare. "Let's go, Bryn."

She still looked frightened, but she managed to nod. "Okay. Okay."

We ran away, not daring to look behind us to see if we were being chased.

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Brynlie left my house with a shaky goodbye and a weak "Happy Birthday". We were both still shaken by our encounter by the boys. After giving my friend a goodbye hug, I headed inside. My mom was waiting in the dining room with my cake.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she asked, concerned.

"Bryn and I had an encounter with Clay and his friends," I said quietly. I didn't want to say more. Thankfully, Mom seemed to get it.

She hugged me. "I'm sorry," she said, "But Quincy? Sometimes that's just what a girl's life is like."

I looked at her solemnly. "But I'm not a girl."