23
Kate says that today is my birthday. The memory of that date seems lost forever, but I’ll take her word for it anyway.
So I guess I’m fourteen-years-old then. Well, technically I’m still thirteen, which pisses me off, but I won’t let it spoil today.
Kate walks over to the kitchen table, holding the chocolate birthday cake, and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the top of her voice. This is the first time that I’ve ever heard her sing—and it’s pretty awful.
She sets the cake down and I blow the fourteen candles out with one breath.
“Thanks, Kate,” I say with a smile. “You didn’t have to do this.”
She sits down on the chair. “Of course I did. I know we can’t eat it, but it wouldn’t be a birthday without a cake.”
“Yeah, I know that, but—”
“But nothing,” she says, handing me a small, flat
