The scent of fried eggs reached me when I woke up. Dad. He often cooked a special breakfast on my birthdays. Excited, I ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time. I stopped when I reached the kitchen and saw Mom at the stove turning scrambled eggs in a pan. Disappointment rolled through me.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she called out, bangles jiggling on her wrists, her hand-made stone necklace and matching earrings bearing the same weird symbols. “Eggs and toast coming up.”
Smoke drifted from the toaster. I popped the toast out. “Do you need help with anything?”
“No, I’m doing fine.” She turned off the stove and turned to study me. “When are you wearing your shameful shirt?”
I frowned. “T-shirt of shame? What… how did you know?”
“Sweetie, you’re my only child. Of course I know everything you do, including bets you make with your friends or when they sneak in and out of your room instead of using the front door.” She glanced toward the stairs. “When’s Eirik coming downstairs?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it without saying a world. No wonder the table was set for three. “Since you know everything, you should know the answer to that question.”
She chuckled and glanced at me from the corners of her eyes. “Speaking of the T-shirt of shame, you and he haven’t kissed or—”
“No-oh.” Images from last night flashed in my head, making me blush. “He was feeling kind of sad last night. His parents are thinking of moving back home to Europe, and he’s trying to convince them to let him stay here and finish high school.”
Color drained from Mom’s face, leaving her pale. “Really? I must talk to Sari and Johan.”
“Eirik said you shouldn’t.”
Mom walked to where I stood and rubbed my arms. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know how close you two are.”
“Can he live with us if they let him stay?”
“I don’t know.” She stepped back. “That depends on his parents. If they don’t mind, of course he can stay with us.” She picked up a toast and scraped the burnt parts into the garbage can before scooping the eggs onto two plates. The top side of the eggs looked undercooked.
I tried not to cringe. She was trying, so no matter how gross it tasted, I’d eat it. “About tonight, I’ll need money for pizza and drinks.”
“Okay. Remind me to add money to your debit card, too. Oh, and I’ll buy the cake.”
“Double chocolate with whipped cream frosting,” I said.
She laughed. “Double chocolate it is. Get my wallet, sweetie, will you?”
I rummaged inside her hand-woven bag, found her wallet, and placed it on the table. After pulling out some bills, which she handed to me, she picked up her plate.
“I’ll be home early with the cake. Happy birthday.” She touched my cheek, turned, and walked away, forking her eggs. She disappeared upstairs.
The eggs were so terrible even pepper couldn’t save them. I reached for a toast and smeared it with jelly. I was munching on a piece when Mom reappeared downstairs.
“Bye, honey. Love you.”
My mouth was full, so I signed ‘I love you’. The door leading to the garage closed behind her. I gave her five minutes, then dumped the rest of my food in the garbage and poured myself cereal. I finished eating, tidied up a bit, and headed upstairs.
I had two text messages, one from Cora and the other from Eirik. He must have gotten a new phone or salvaged his old one. They were on their way. I still had to finish my AP English report, but my heart wasn’t really in it. It was my birthday, and I wanted to do something fun with my friends.
After a quick shower, I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, grabbed my laptop, and settled on my window seat before I remembered Torin. I found myself studying his house. The white slats covering the windows were closed. I wondered how he knew things like the light signal. Could he really do magic? Stupid question. Of course not. Magic wasn’t real.
To prove it, I called DC Tires. No one remembered seeing a guy fitting Torin’s description at the shop or any scratches on my car. Maybe he’d sneaked by them and fixed the scratches when they weren’t looking. Why should I care whether he’d lied or not? If he wanted to pretend he could do magic, that was his problem. Pushing the matter aside, I went online and started my rounds.
First, I stopped by the website of Flight 557 and checked the latest news. There was nothing to give me hope. Next I checked my e-mails and stopped by social and book-related sites. Usually going through new releases, fan fiction of my favorite books, and checking which books were being turned into movies held me spellbound for hours. This time, I kept glancing out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Torin.
Annoyed with myself, I moved to my bed and forced myself to stay there even when I heard his voice mingle with Mrs. Rutledge’s annoyingly chipper voice. Just because I was bored didn’t mean I had to spy and eavesdrop on my neighbors. When the doorbell chimed, I sighed with relief, closed my laptop, and ran downstairs.