Ty
Birthdays sucked, for me at least. Each one meant another year where I didn’t grow any taller, didn’t look any older than the year before, and it had been like that since I was ten. Rather than sugarplums, visions of me still being carded when I was thirty danced in my head, and always at the worst of times.
Take today for instance. It was my sixteenth birthday. All my friends were talking about going for their learners’ permits, or going for their road tests, or going to choose their first car. Not to say I couldn’t do those things too, but would I even be able to reach the gas pedal or the brake, without those blocks of wood taped to them so my feet could reach them?
On top of being such a runt, there was that birthmark on the side of my neck. Shaped like a tea stain but too dark f
