Inevitable and Only(59)

To stop thinking about kissing a gorgeous, brilliant, talented senior who happened to already have a girlfriend. Really kissing him, not his thumb.

I’d never thought about Farhan like this. Thought about him randomly a million times throughout the day, like in the middle of doing my homework, or when I was on the bus, or when I was trying to fall asleep at night. Every little thing reminded me of Zephyr—something he’d said, or the way he smelled, or how he smiled.

Sushi Below became our regular hangout for the next few weeks. We never ran out of things to talk about over sushi, although he was still quiet at rehearsals, focused, intent on his role. But in mid-November, he told me that his dads said he couldn’t go out at night anymore, except for rehearsals, until all his college applications were turned in.

“When are they due?” I asked.

He sighed. “January, although I’m trying to finish them before Christmas.”

January. By then, the play would be over. Without sushi nights, I wouldn’t see him outside of class anymore. I didn’t know what that meant—what did I want from him, anyway? We weren’t dating. Obviously. But still, it felt like he was putting a lid on—something.

“He can’t possibly still have a girlfriend,” Raven kept insisting. “There’s no way she’d be okay with him going on dates with you all the time.”

“They’re not dates,” I argued. “We never hold hands or even hug. We just eat dinner together and talk.”

“Yeah, and talk. You talk about him all the time, Cadie. It’s Zephyr this and Zephyr that. Face it, you have a colossal crush on him. And he is totally into you.”

“It’s not like that, I swear.” But I couldn’t convince her.



Friday, November 18 was my sixteenth birthday. I’d been dreading it for weeks. Dad always made a special three-course dinner for birthdays—with double-chocolate ganache cake for mine, and caramel-frosted carrot cake for Josh’s. But this year I’d insisted I didn’t want a family celebration at all.

Elizabeth was in the bathroom when I woke up, so I pulled on a sweatshirt and brushed my hair at the vanity mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes, and the colorful streaks in my hair were fading a little—I’d have to redo them soon. Did I look any older? I quirked an eyebrow, pouted my lips, tried to smirk. Nope. I just looked tired. I wished I knew how to make myself look cooler, more sophisticated. More, well, sixteen. I touched the edge of one eyebrow, tried to imagine a ring there.

“Girls!” Mom called. “Ten minutes!”

I sighed and went downstairs.

Something smelled amazing. Dad was at the kitchen counter, piling pumpkin waffles onto two paper plates. Josh was already eating his at the table.

“Voilà, ze gourmet birthday breakfast,” Dad said in Parisian Chef Voice, grinning at me.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

Mom was bustling around by the door, ignoring the sizzling waffle iron and the cloud of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. My stomach growled despite myself.

“So,” Dad said, in his usual Weatherman Voice, “are you sure about tonight? I can’t even tempt you with five-cheese mac ’n’ cheese?”

I shook my head.

“I mean, sixteen. It’s a big year. We should celebrate!”

“I can’t. Raven and Micayla are taking me out to dinner at Papermoon.”

Dad frowned. “Now, wait a—”

“It’s fine, Ross,” Mom called. “Cadie and I already discussed it.”

He blinked and looked like he was going to say something else, but just then Elizabeth came downstairs. “Mmm, that smells amazing, what’s—oh! Happy birthday, Cadie.” She smiled awkwardly.

“Thanks,” I said. This. This was why I didn’t want a family birthday party. I didn’t want to watch Josh shrink into his chair and force Mom and Dad to sit at the same table. I didn’t want to listen to Elizabeth trying to be cheerful, and spend the whole night avoiding talking to Dad.

I ducked my head, took a paper plate of waffles, and said to Mom, “I’ll meet you at the car.”



The school day dragged on forever, but I was only called for one short scene at rehearsal that night, and at least I had dinner with Micayla and Raven to look forward to.

Papermoon is this quirky Hampden diner decorated with decapitated dolls and broken knickknacks and glitter and beads glued all over the rainbow-painted walls. It’s creepy and weird and, most important, serves breakfast all day and all night. “Like any self-respecting diner should,” Micayla said as we walked in.

Raven agreed. “I am so ready for second breakfast.”

We ordered pancakes, French toast, and milk shakes. Raven or Micayla must’ve told the waitress it was my birthday, because she stuck candles in everything and brought the food out with three other waitresses, dancing and singing a loud, cheesy “Happy Birthday.” The whole diner clapped.

“You guys!” I groaned, pulling my sweatshirt hood up over my head.

“… are the best?” Raven prompted, and even though my face was burning, I grinned.

But as we ate, I kept wondering what everyone was doing at home. Were they eating dinner together without me? Or was Dad working late at Fine Print? Maybe Elizabeth was out with Farhan. Josh was probably practicing in his room. If I’d stayed home, we’d be eating five-cheese mac ’n’ cheese together right now. Maybe Mom would’ve made an effort to be nice to Dad, for my sake. Elizabeth would’ve tried extra hard to be friendly, and Dad—well, Dad would’ve pulled out all the stops for a sweet-sixteen birthday dinner. Maybe we would’ve all gone out to the movies afterward. Birthdays were the only time all year that Mom ever agreed to go to the movies.