After class on Thursday, I return to my room and found a note on my door telling me to go see Jasmine, my RA. When I get to her room, she hands me a big box.
"Care package?" she asks.
"Yeah, something like that, I guess." I took the box and quickly left. I don't want her or anyone else to know it's my birthday. I've never liked my birthday. Growing up, I had to watch other kids hand out party invitations and bring cupcakes to school while my mother acted like my birthday didn't exist.
Back in my room, I ripped open the box. Inside, there are a few small bags of potato chips, packs of gum, a box of snack cakes with candles taped to the top, colored pens, a couple of wrapped packages, and three envelopes. I pop a piece of gum in my mouth, then open the wrapped gifts. Inside the first pack
