“Ladies,” Adam says, “you’re freaking him out.” He turns to me. “I probably have some old clothes if you want them.”
“Let’s see!” Allison says, and they all fly down the hall toward Adam’s room.
“Now?” he calls after them.
“It’s my birthday,” Emerald calls back. “Julian, come here.”
Adam gives me another sympathetic smile and shrugs. “It’s her birthday.”
When I get to his room, they’re yanking things out of his closet. His room is different than how I remember it. Instead of two twin beds, there’s one big one, and most of his superhero action figures and posters are gone. But the fish tank, now empty, is still here. When I lived in this house, Catherine read me the story where Elian meets a privileged alien girl, and she shows him her massive bedroom. Along one wall the girl had a floor-to-ceiling red curtain, but when she pulled it back, instead of sky, there was a whale-sized creature—swimming. It wasn’t a window at all, but a giant aquarium. I loved that scene. I wanted a room just like it, so Catherine bought that fish tank for me.
“Come here,” Camila orders, and the girls take turns holding up shirts in front of me.
“This looks like it might actually fit,” Emerald says.
“I don’t understand why so many guys want to wear shirts that look like nightgowns,” Allison adds.
Camila tugs it off the hanger and pushes it at me. “Try it on.” Then she just stands there as if she expects me to change in front of them.
I feel a rush of panic. “Um…”
“We’ve seen nipples.” Camila winks.
“Not his nipples,” Adam says, stepping inside. He pushes aside a row of hangers, grabs a pair of dark jeans from the back, and hands them to me. “Clear out, ladies. He’s not a stripper.”
“Emerald!” Camila hops two feet off the ground. “We have to hire a stripper!”
The girls are laughing as Adam forces them out of the room. As soon as he shuts the door behind him, I quickly change. The shirt and jeans both fit. I can’t remember the last time I wore something that really fit.
I open the door, startled to find everyone waiting right outside. The three girls burst into applause, then order me to spin around. Adam laughs and shrugs, so I do it.
When they all clap again, my mouth spasms into a smile.
“Is there going to be a magician?” I ask. The last birthday party I went to had a magician.
Adam shakes his head, smiling as if I said something funny. I glance around Emerald’s living room. It doesn’t look like a party. There aren’t balloons or streamers or a pi?ata or anything.
Adam and I take a seat on one of the long couches, and soon the house fills up with seniors. I recognize a few from the concert, but most are strangers.
Some girls walk through the door, carrying four-packs of pink glass bottles. Beside them a group of boys hold up their huge boxes of beer, and everyone cheers and hands them cash.
“I don’t have any money,” I whisper.
“It’s cool,” Adam says. “I’ll cover you.” But he looks uncomfortable, like maybe he really doesn’t want to. That expression intensifies when I grab one of the cans. It only takes one swallow for me to realize it’s disgusting. I don’t want any more, but I’d feel bad not finishing since Adam is paying for it.
Camila’s eyes zero in on me as if she knows what I’m thinking. “Gross?”
“No, it’s good,” I lie.
“Have this, much better.” She hands me her pink bottle. There’s lipstick on it, which is kind of gross, but I don’t want to offend her, so I take a small sip.
She’s right. It is much better, like carbonated Kool-Aid. “It’s good.” She hands me one from her cardboard container. “I’ll pay you back,” I tell Adam, even though I have no idea how I’m going to do that, since I spent my savings on Emerald’s gift.
“Those actually have more alcohol than the beer,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music someone just turned on.
“They do?”
“Yeah. You should probably just stick with the one beer.” He takes my unopened pink drink and returns it to Camila.
“Can I just have soda?” There are a few three-liter bottles that some kids are pouring into red plastic cups.
Camila starts laughing. “Stop babying him, Adam.”
“He’s fourteen.”
“I’m almost fifteen.”
“Your birthday’s in July.” He laughs.
Camila seems to lose interest in the conversation and wanders away.
Adam grabs a cupful of soda and hands it to me, then he’s off too, weaving in and out of different groups. I wish I had the ability to talk with people that way. Talking is a talent; he probably doesn’t realize it, but it is.