The smell of toast and burnt coffee greeted me before I even made it down the stairs thursday morning. Mom was already at the kitchen table, her hair pulled back in a low bun, glasses sliding down her nose like always. But she wasn't buried in her laptop or paperwork this morning, she was watching me.
Like, really watching me.
"What?" I asked, sliding into a chair across from her. "Do I have bedhead so tragic you can't look away?"
She blinked, startled, then smiled faintly. "Just making sure you eat before school. You've been rushing out the door lately."
I squinted at her over the rim of my orange juice. "That's funny, because yesterday you didn't even notice I skipped toast."
Her smile didn't waver, but her eyes lingered too long as I bit into the bread she'd already buttered for me.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
"You're being weird," I said finally.
She raised her brows. "Weird?"
"Yes." I waved my toast like a lawyer presenting evidence. "Normally you're married to your emails at this hour. Now you're staring at me like I'm a science experiment. What gives? Did the government replace my mother with a very clingy robot?"
Her laugh was soft but didn't reach her eyes. "You watch too many movies."
"Fine, but if you start asking me to recite pi backwards or do backflips, I'm calling Child Services."
That earned me a headshake, but she didn't deny anything either. By the time Chloe's car horn blared outside, I was convinced she was hiding something.
"Don't forget—"
"—your phone, your brain. Got it." I kissed her cheek and bolted, because Chloe's patience level was negative zero.
Sure enough, when I slid into the passenger seat, she was already drumming on the wheel. Her blond curls were tamed into some kind of messy bun that probably took her two hours.
"Finally!" she groaned. "Do you know how many texts I drafted threatening to leave you?"
"None, because you can't function without me," I said, buckling in.
"Rude but true." She shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway. "So, your birthday. I've got ideas."
I groaned. "Dangerous words."
"First option: road trip. Just us, Ethan, maybe a cooler of energy drinks—"
"Shot down. I'm not sleeping in a car."
"Fine. Option two: we sneak into that club downtown with the fake IDs Ethan swears he can get."
"I'd rather keep my criminal record blank, thanks."
"Ugh, you're no fun." She tapped the steering wheel. "Option three: bouncy castle. But at night. With glow sticks."
"Are you five?"
"I'm a visionary."
I gave her a look. She pouted. "So what do you want to do? Knit sweaters? Watch documentaries?"
"Honestly? Cake, pizza, maybe not ending up on a watchlist."
She slumped dramatically against the seat. "Tragic. Your birthday is going to be tragically boring."
"Good. That's how I like it."
⸻
School was its usual circus, lockers slamming, couples making out like they were auditioning for reality TV, and the halls buzzing with that first-period dread. Chloe peeled off for history, leaving me to trek to the classroom where Ezra and I were supposed to be partners for a project.
Except Ezra wasn't there.
His seat sat empty, his notebook untouched, like he'd vanished into thin air. Which, considering Ezra and his group's tendency to treat attendance like optional side quests, wasn't exactly shocking.
Still. A little annoying.
Chloe slid into the seat next to me with a smirk. "Guess who's doing all the work?"
"Not me," I said, flipping open my notebook. "I'll drag his royal highness down with me if I have to."
"Good luck with that. Pretty sure Ezra's GPA is made of bulletproof glass."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course it is."
The teacher droned on, something about citations and group accountability, while I scribbled half-baked notes and tried not to think about how smug Ezra would look if he actually showed up tomorrow.
⸻
By lunch, the cafeteria smelled like grease and despair. Chloe and I claimed our usual table with Ethan already waiting, earbuds dangling around his neck as he scrolled through something on his tablet.
Across the room, Ezra's group lounged like they owned the place—except, again, minus Ezra himself. Erica, of course, was present, perched on the edge of her chair like she was in a perfume ad.
Her eyes flicked my way once. Then twice. Then she smirked, leaning in to whisper something to the girl beside her.
"Oh, here we go," Chloe muttered, stabbing her fork into her salad like it had personally offended her.
Sure enough, Erica's voice carried just enough for our table to hear. "Must be nice having a partner who doesn't show. Guess some people just attract extra work."
Chloe shot to attention, ready to launch herself across the room. I pressed a hand down on her arm before she could cause a scene.
"Relax," I said. "She's not worth detention."
"But she's worth me dumping milk on her head."
"Tempting, but also not worth detention."
I leaned back, smirking. "Besides, if Ezra wants to flunk, I'll gladly let him drag her with him."
That shut Chloe up—for now.
⸻
The day crawled on, classes blurring together until I was back home in my room, staring at my ceiling and wondering if Mom was going to pop her head in again.
She did. Right on cue.
"You need anything?" she asked.
"Nope."
She lingered anyway, leaning against the doorframe like she'd forgotten what she came in for. Her gaze flicked over me, searching for... something.
"What?" I asked finally. "Do I have spinach in my teeth? Am I glowing? Growing an extra limb?"
Her lips curved into a small smile. "Just making sure you're okay."
I raised a brow. "You're acting like I'm about to sprout wings or sneak out a window. You're getting very observant, Mother. Very suspicious."
She chuckled softly and shook her head. "Stay close, okay?"
And then she was gone, leaving me staring after her, confused.
I flopped back on my bed. Parents were weird. Chloe was weird. Ezra was MIA. And me? I was just trying to make it to my tragically boring birthday in one piece.