I quickly wiggle out of my shirt and jeans and shimmy into the dress. It’s fire engine red, with a halter top and almost no back. The skirt is short and full and kind of swirls against my legs when I move. Okay, I love it.
“Violet, come out so I can see!” Mom calls from outside.
Rolling my eyes, I do as she asks. When she sees me, her eyes widen slightly.
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize that dress was quite so…sexy. You look great, though. Do you like it?”
“I do,” I say. I try to adjust the top so not quite so much cleavage is showing, but the dress was designed to show cleavage, so my attempts are unsuccessful.
“Well, I’m not sure if it will be appropriate for—uh—dinner tonight. At the restaurant.”
“Oh. What restaurant was it again?” I ask, unable to resist putting her on the spot.
“Didn’t I say?” Mom fidgets and smoothes back her pale blonde hair. “Um, was it The Four Seasons?”
“Are you asking me?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure it was. I mean, it is.” She makes a little snorting sound. “Sorry. Pregnancy brain. You know how it is. No! No, you should definitely not know how it is—because you’re not pregnant, right?”
“No, I’m definitely not,” I sigh.
Mom gives a relieved chuckle. “Thank god. Not only are you way too young, but how weird would that be? Us being pregnant at the same time? Me, pregnant with your little brother or sister, and your baby would be my baby’s niece or nephew—on both sides! Is that right?”
A young couple standing near us give us a wide-eyed look, then quickly shuffle away. “Lauren!” I shout a bit desperately. “Come on out!”
I decide to get the dress. I don’t have anyone to look sexy for, but I feel good in it, so why not? Lauren chooses a pretty black dress that looks striking against her pale skin. We get ready in my room, then Lauren is suppose to take me out for a few hours so Mom can get my party set up.
Lauren knows I know, so she doesn’t bother to pretend. We decide to watch movies all day at her place until it’s time to go home and be surprised. I wish I could just stay here, instead of put on a happy face for a bunch of people. Actually, I wish I could just hang out at the beach all day, just staring at the waves, and thinking. I know what I want to do—I just need to find the courage to do it.
So Mom went all out for my party: elaborate decorations, caterers, a deejay…a marching band. Okay, I’m kidding about the marching band. Almost everyone that was at the wedding is back again for my birthday—even Taylor. She's probably hoping to hook up with Zane.
Oh, and Matt and Rachel are here! Why did she invite them? Why did they come? It’s super awkward when they come up to say happy birthday to me. Rachel still can’t look me in the eye, and neither can Matt. I don’t understand. He was never this interested in my body when we were dating, but now he can’t keep his eyes off my cleavage. Weird.
I wonder if Zane knows it's my birthday? I bet Mom told him. She must've told him about the baby, too. Will he take time away from his celebrity lifestyle to visit when she gives birth?
I am restless throughout the party. I stick close to Lauren, not caring if I seem rude. I want to talk to Zane. The moment I decide to sneak away to call him, Mom grabs me and tells me the caterers are bringing out the cake. So I put a smile on my face while they bring in a huge chocolate cake—Dobash, my favorite! Everyone sings to me, and I try not to grimace as I blow out the candles. Someone, though, put trick candles on my cake, and I blow so hard, one of the cake decorations—a tiny little basket made to look like a birthday present—flies off the cake and hits my baby cousin, Bella, in the eye. She screams and screams, and in the chaos, Great Grandma manages to hobble her way over to me and squeeze my boobs really hard—for what purpose, I don’t know. Fortunately, several people manage to capture these special moments on video, so I’ll always have these memories. Documented. Online, probably.
My boobs hurt. I just want everybody to go home. I try to escape to the garden, but Lauren grabs me.
“I need to talk to you,” she says. There’s a strange furtive look in her big brown eyes.
“Um, okay.” Alarmed by her expression, I gesture toward the back door. “We could go out in the garden, or—”
“I saw a bunch of your cousins head out there. I think they’re going to play football, or smoke pot.”
“What?! They’d better not,” I say, trying to peer through the window.
But Lauren grabs me and tows me along. “Let’s go to your room.”