Birthday

8:12 a.m.

8:12 a.m.

She is up and ready with her purse in hand and phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. Hartley is still going on and on about the same topic—Mila's still not sure what that topic is exactly—and she's excited. Overly excited.

"We need to get there to catch the sales. I mean, Mi, it's fifty percent off. We can't miss it. Tell me you're not still lounging in your bed and watching Netflix like some sort of loser."

Mila sighs playfully and rolls her eyes. "You wish you were me, Hart. Anyway, I'm all ready. You're the one that's late."

"Don't even talk about it." Mila can picture Hartley rolling her eyes on the line. In the background, she can hear the wind whipping by, as if Hartley is racing down the highway. She hopes Hartley isn't too overwhelmed; Hartley can crash her car any time and Mila cannot have that. "Luke—that fucking asshole, he is so annoying—was trying to fight me for the car. He didn't even bother to tell you happy birthday when I mentioned I was seeing you today."

Mila takes in a breath and releases it through her nose slowly. Heart, stop pounding, she tells herself. It's only Luke Teasley. Big deal. She's really terrible at lying to herself because not even a split second later, she retorts inwardly, Yeah. Luke Teasley. Only my totally oblivious crush even though I've been stuck with him for sixteen years.

Yeah, it really helps matters that he's Hartley's brother, out of all people.

"Hey, you there?" Hartley's voice says with that obnoxious tone under her words. "Did you get stuck on the Luke part of my story?"

"Absolutely not," Mila says. She can't even do any better? She can't sound any more unconvincing. "Where are you? I mean, right now, you're fifteen minutes late. I thought I fixed your watch last week."

"Ah, well," Hartley drawls, static crackling at the edge of her words, "my watch might have come unfixed."

"What the hell?" Mila walks to the front door and peeks out the window. Her street is quietly empty the way a suburban road always is at eight in the morning on a summer Friday. She'll trust Hartley to break that peace pretty soon with her blaring music and half dysfunctional car from the '90s.

"My brother dropped it in the pool. Or so he says. I think he was fiddling with it to show off to some new female lifeguard on duty. He probably gave it to her or whatever."

Mila's chest stings when she hears of that new female lifeguard, but she keeps the strings of envy tangling in her chest from rising up, as usual. "Hartley, your watch is waterproof."

"Yeah, that's what I told him. He probably ignored me like he always does. It's so annoying to have a sibling. You're so lucky."

Mila would rather not have the sibling conversation right now. "Where the hell are you?"

"Shut up, I'm turning the corner to your block. Ugh, I wonder why I didn't just tell you to drive yourself to the mall and meet me there."

"Because you love me. Anyway, I'll be right there."

Mila walks out the front door, making sure to lock it, and slings her purse over her shoulder. Outside, a nice little breeze is blowing. The sky is a cloudless cerulean, and everything is silent except for the occasional chirp of a bird or rumble of passing cars. It's a typical day—too typical—in metropolitan Washington D.C., and no one sees her except for her best friend. She's not sure whether she should feel neglected or relieved that she does have a social life after all, even if it's extremely limited.