Misfit Theater Company 2

19. Happy Birthday to Me

Here's the thing about birthdays: they aren't fun if you are in a weird place with your boyfriend. They usually aren't fun when they are on a Thursday, either, especially if that Thursday in theater class you have to watch your boyfriend kiss another girl for what feels like the hundredth time, which throws your scenes off because you're off. Yeah, so, happy 17th birthday to me.

"Are you sure you don't want to do anything for your birthday?" Mom asks. She's in the kitchen preparing dinner and a little vegan cake for us to share, while I sit on the sofa in the living room, pretending not to notice that I've left the last few messages from Thatcher unread.

"Yup, positive," I reply.

See, the thing is, I'm mad at Thatcher, but I'm not entirely sure why. I wasn't mad at Patti for taking the same opportunity, and I wasn't mad at Moth for taking a similar opportunity. So why Thatcher?

Two thoughts circulate inside me.

I'm mad at Thatcher, because he's my boyfriend and I love him; so it's different that he is leaving. It's different that he wouldn't talk to me about it at all or give me a proper heads up before accepting the agent's offer and making plans to go out to Hollywood.

Now that Thatcher's been contacted, I'll be the last misfit without an agent, probably forever. They were all contacted around the same time, so... I will be left here to figure things out on my own. And if I was freaking out about being "alone" in scenes for Midsummer Night's Dream, I clearly didn't understand what loneliness would feel like until right now.

"Why don't you invite a friend over? Just for dinner," Mom suggests. She can sense my loneliness.

"Fine," I say, but I'm in such a terrible mood that I take my anger with Thatcher out on Mom and text Gina.

Janie Myers (5:43pm): Want to come over for dinner?

Gina Romano (5:43pm): On your Bday????

Janie Myers (5:44pm): Yeah... my mom thinks I'm lonely.

Gina Romano (5:44pm): Yeah wait, where's Thatcher? Why can't he come?

Janie Myers (5:44pm): If you don't want to come over or you can't that's fine.

Gina Romano (5:45pm): NO, I'm on it.

"Gina's coming," I call to the kitchen.

Mom slowly steps into the doorway, confusion inhabiting her entire body. "What's going on with you, Janie?"

I shrug, but the tears start to stream. "Thatcher's going to Hollywood too."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. It will be okay, you two can talk all the time still, and FaceTime, that'll be nice."

"I don't want to think about it right now. That's why I don't want any of my friends over. This is the worst birthday of my life."

My mom scoffs. "Oh, honey, it gets worse. But I understand."

She retreats into the kitchen to continue working on dinner, now for three, and I try my best to melt into the couch so I won't ever have to get up again. I'm back at square one: Lonely and asking Gina to be my only friend.

Oh well, I think. I can't seem to care about anything real right now. My grades slipped this week, because I didn't study and barely did my homework, my relationship is in trouble, my lines for Midsummer sounded terrible, and it looks like all my friends will have their dreams come true while I sit here and continue being worthless in Riverside. Who cares.

Time passes in a slow blur until the doorbell rings around 6:20pm, just as Mom is setting the table.

"That's Gina," I say, peeling myself off the couch. "I'll get it."