e l e v e n ; young and clueless 

1 year ago, 10th grade

January 14th

I count the seconds on the clock. When it strikes midnight, I quickly dial my phone and it rings three times before it’s answered. “Hello? Skylar? Is everything oka—”

“Happy Sweet Sixteen, birthday boy!” I exclaim with enthusiasm.

“Thank you.” I hear the laughter in his voice, though a little groggier than usual. "I thought something happened to you."

“Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah, I knocked out two hours ago. If I’m being honest with you, I seriously forgot it’s my birthday until you said it.”

“Swim really wears you out huh,” I sympathize, clicking my tongue. “Well, how’s your first minute of being sixteen?”

“I don’t know. Better if I was sleeping right now than talking to this annoying nerd.”

Gasping in offense, I declare, “That annoying nerd is hanging up.”

His deep chuckle rings through the line. “I’m obviously kidding. But hey, I’m actually going to hang up. Talk to you later?”

“Are you serious?” I can’t mask the combination of incredulousness and disappointment in my voice. “Are you going to call your girlfriend?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh.” I say. “You go do that then.”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah. Thanks for calling.”

When the call ends, I stare blankly at the ceiling from where I lay, wrapping the blankets closer. I feel stupid. I was keeping track of the time since hours ago just so I could be the first one to tell him happy birthday. We’ve been doing that ever since we got our cell phones so naturally, I would do it this year too. It’s a lonely feeling to be casted aside by your best friend. Of course this would happen. Of course he would want to share his birthday with his girlfriend of five months. What was I expecting?

I thought maybe having such a long history together, I would be more . . . important? More prioritized? I can’t find the right word that doesn’t selfish. I try to put myself in his shoes. If I had to choose between my best friend or my future boyfriend, who would it be? This imagined scenario causes a turmoil. Even I don’t know the answer to that, so I can’t really blame him.

I toss and turn several times. Yet each time brings no comfortable position for me to sleep with. Eventually, exhaustion shuts my brain and I fall asleep.

•   •   •   •   •   •   •

A corner of my bed vibrates. With my eyes closed, I fumble my arm to find the source. I crack them half open, squinting away the blurriness as I glance at the caller. Kai, my screen reads. It’s been forty minutes since we hung up the phone. I’m guessing he just got off the call with his girlfriend because she’s heading to bed. Not having the energy to talk to him, I ignore the call despite being his birthday. I know I’m going to regret it later but right now, I can’t put on an act and pretend I’m not upset by what he did earlier.

When the phone vibrates the second time around, I almost swallow my pride and pick it up. However, something holds me back, and I reason to myself that he’s going to text me or leave me a voicemail if it’s important. He does neither. It’s probably not that important then.

•   •   •   •   •   •   •

I convince myself that my emotions are valid and that I’m not the worst best friend ever to ignore his call on his birthday. It has no effects because I lie awake as my guilt eats at me. I can’t risk calling back only to disturb his sleep.

Something thuds against my bedroom’s window, and my body reacts in alarm. , this is how I’m going to die is the only thought that runs through my head. Another quiet thud makes impact.

If it’s an intruder, it’d be helpful if I have a baseball bat right now. If it’s a demon, a Holy Bible would be useful. Before I could flee downstair to my parents’ room and ask for help, a familiar voice calls, “Skylar!” It’s a cautious shout, simultaneously urgent and quiet. “It’s me!”

I slide my window up to peek my head out. The streets are empty. His bike rests on the grass as he stands right under my room, holding a handful of what I assume are tiny