FIRE!

BAM-BAM-BAM!

It’s the middle of the night and there’s pounding on my door.

“Fire, Sam!” It’s Bill. “There’s a fire, boy!”

I bolt up. Can’t see a thing.

I’m frantic. Scrambling. Running into walls.

Banging my way into the door.

Somehow locating the knob.

Twisting it.

Flinging the door open.

“Hi, Sam.”

It’s Ginny. She’s standing there in her apron, working some pizza dough in her hands. Bill’s eating a Fudgsicle.

“Son, we need to talk to you about something,” Bill says.

“Isn’t there a—”

“No fire. You’re just really hard to wake up.”

Seriously?

Ginny gets all smiley and excited and sings, “Sam-u-el! There’s a very special day-ay, coming soo-oon! In just a few wee-eeks.…” She whistles “Happy Birthday to You.” “This is a special one. You’re turning sixteen! Sixteen years old! Can you imagine?”

“I guess.”

“Close your eyes, Sam, and just imagine it.” She closes her eyes. “Oh, to be sixteen—”

“All right, Gin,” Bill says, looking at her like she’s flat nuts. “Sam, we want to make this birthday a great one. Anything you’d like, you name it. Laser tag. Space Needle. Fishing trip. Whatever. It’s up to you.”

“Okay.”

We stand there and it’s clear they’re waiting for me to say something. So I ask what time it is.

“Six thirty. Dinnertime,” Ginny sings. “We’re having Chinese pizza!”

“No thanks. I’m really tired.”

“But, Samuel—”

“Ginny, let’s give the boy some peace. Night, Sam.” They retreat into their part of the house.

I flop back on my mattress and stare up toward the sky.

A movie of me and Rupe and Dave projects onto the ceiling.

We’re all standing around a Chinook salmon piñata hung from the cedar tree in the massive backyard of our Aberdeen rental.

Rupe’s got the blindfold on. He’s flailing around with the stick, missing the piñata repeatedly, whiffing and hyperventilating, while Dave rolls on the ground, laughing his ass off. I’m laughing my ass off too, as my mom snaps shots in the background with her old Polaroid camera.

She’s smiling. She looks really happy.

All of us do.

The brain movie fades to white, and I can’t help thinking maybe I made all this happiness stuff up.

I go to my closet, reach deep into the moldy, musty darkness. I grab the backpack I brought from Aberdeen when Bill and Ginny hauled me out there to get some clothes and stuff after they realized I’d probably be staying with them for a while.

I unzip it and root around, hoping the photos are in there.

They are.

There’s a hilarious shot of Rupe and Dave shoving cake in my face and one of me with my mom. I’m showing off the Soundgarden poster she gave me and she’s holding a homemade German chocolate cake with twelve candles. I’m looking up at her big brown eyes. Her freckles. Long brown hair. The look on my face says I must have the coolest mom in the world.

I take the picture to the bathroom and look in the mirror.

I’ve got her eyes. A few of her dark brown freckles. Got zits I didn’t have then. We all have a summer’s worth of tan in those pictures. I feel like I’ve been pasty pale ever since. My pudgy face is all stretched and long now. Skinny. Bony. Too bony. Makes me look even more like her. But the pudgy face I had in that photo … it was smiling. We all were. We were happy. We had a great time out there in Aberdeen.

Back in my room, I shove the photos in the pack and think about Ginny and Bill.

And I wonder if there’s a nice way to tell them to stop bugging me about my birthday.

I turn the light out and swat the box. Kurt sings me away.