~7~

As soon as the elevator doors open my house eyes undergo a visible widen at the sight before me. Completely dazed, I wander to the edge wall of the roof level and marvel over the beautifully painted sky. Vibrant pinks, purples, and oranges intertwine and blend across the entire abyss above the cityscape.

"We never get sunsets like this," I say in awe as I admire the entire canvas of sky. Sure, the air pollution and city lights were probably muting the scene, but it was still quite impressive for the heart of Manhattan.

That's when I hear a faint clicking noise, followed by a fluttery whir.

I spin around to see Max with a chunky camera. A small Polaroid prints out of the device and he shakes it carefully.

"I didn't know you had one of those," I admit, a smile plastered to my face as he lets me peek at the slow developing photo.

He proceeds to try to hand me the camera, "I don't. Happy Birthday,"

"What? No. How did you even afford—"

"Don't you know how to just accept a simple gift?" He interrupts me, "Besides, now it's used. Can't be returned." He points to the film in my hands and morphs into a knowing smirk, fully aware that I can't successfully argue that point.

"Frick. How come you're only smart when its against me?" I joke, taking a seat on one of three swinging benches scattered across the nice, well kept garden up here. Even though it's mid summer, and warm most afternoons, the rocking wood still has a subtle chill clinging to it that feels fresh against my bare skin. A dozen strings of fairy lights pave through the greenery in front of me, with an open area known to be used for dancing off to the right. This was easily one of my favorite places on earth, and Max and I had spent a lot of time up here in the past. It was hardly ever crowded on the weekdays, and only on Friday or Saturday if some sort of event was being held. But tonight this rooftop doesn't feel like the normal hangout spot, tonight it feels so much better.

Maybe it's just the fact that I got out of all the chaos that's happening in my own house. Or maybe it's how every bulb is lit against the dimming atmosphere, or the fact that the sun is setting so perfectly to create a masterpiece above me.

Or perhaps it's the person now sitting next to me—

Or a combination of it all.

"Remember the time you almost fell off of this roof?" I stifle a laugh, breaking the silence that had come over the two of us.

"Every time I close my eyes," Max says. His mouth twitches slightly, but he doesn't look up at me.

"If I look past the fact that you could have plummeted almost twenty stories, still the more I replay it in my head the funnier it gets," I tell him, chuckling to myself.

No response.

Speaking of Max Witherson, lack of speech can only mean three things. He's either dying, dead, or dead-ed.

Not sure what to do under the uncomfortably rare circumstance, I raise the Polaroid that's still in my hands and snap his side profile.

"You look even more depressing on camera," I hint, tiptoeing around the one question I want to ask. I can only remember a single time before that I've said the words, 'what's wrong' to this boy.

"Oh, yeah," he says, shaking back into reality. He takes the film from my fingertips and scans it over, "It's kind of hot though,"

"Now you're just saying what you wish I would,"

He smirks, his eyes still not traveling to any object above his knees.

"Seriously,"

"How am I even being depressing anyway? I'm just enjoying the moment," He blurts, finally making eye contact for the first time since the elevator.

"Oh please," I huff, "the only reason you take any moment is to get to the next. I didn't even know you could keep your mouth shut for as long you have tonight,"

Compassion may not be my strong suit in life. I care, I really do, but in tense situations I tend to say the worst thing possible.

"Well I can," He snaps, rising to his feet and propping his hands against his neck, "and here, keep this."

He pushes the picture of him back into my lap.

"Okay, but Max—"

"Brooklynn,"

"Max," I repeat, searching for a better word.

"Brooklynn."

"Stop it! Just tell me what your problem is," I plead.

"I'm sorry, It's nothing. Literally nothing." He runs a hand through his head of hair and sloppily sits back down, causing the bench to swing a little faster, "But please, promise me that you'll keep the picture,"

His eyes suddenly melt into a sadness I had never seen him wear before. This phenomenon alone is enough to make me want to cry, but my heart just races instead.

"Okay," I reply softly.

"And take it with you. Look at it every once in awhile..." he continues muttering.

I bite my lip and just sit here utterly complexed. I'm not sure what's up with him tonight, but it's slowly killing me watching him unfold and not knowing how to put him back together.

"Maybe I can frame it for you. Do they sell tiny frames like that?" He quietly asks.

I'm afraid to even lock gazes again, scared that the same expression he can't seem to shake will still be clouding his usual cheery features. I'm already tired and I'm pretty much always mentally unstable, so the last thing I need to do is up the birthday cry count. I just wish I knew what this was about.

Make sure he knows.

"What the hell?" the unexpected exclamation rolls off my tongue. So that's what he's so scared of?

"Tiny picture frames isn't exactly a far-fetched idea."

I pause for a second, looking up at him now, trying to calm myself before continuing, but I'm almost in a state of shock. Why? How? The realization hits me hard, piercing my chest and vigorously tugging stomach, "You think I'm going to forget about you?"

"Or get too busy for me. Or make better friends and ditch me entirely— all plausible options," he talks speedily but his words remain fragile.

"You're so dumb! How could you even think like that?" My voice cracks but I keep yelling in frustration anyway. Screw being calm, he needs some sense slapped into him.

"Well I—"

"Shut up!" Its my turn to interrupt him now. I can't tell if the heat on my cheeks is internal or coming from the tears now traveling down the sides of my face. I'm angry and confused all in one, along with some nagging thoughts that I've been pushing aside for awhile now.

Obviously moving across the country was going to involve me leaving, we both knew that, but how he could even have the suspicions he was showing me now is beyond my comprehension, "Haven't I proved enough to you after all of these years? You're always going to be a part of my life! Why would you push me to do this if you never wanted me to in the first place? I hate you. I hate you but I freaking love you. I love everything about you and—"

I can't tell whether or not I see a weak smile retake control of Max's expression before he pulls me against him, his arm around my shoulders. "I would never forget about you," I finish.

"I know," he says, which allows me to relax and lay against his chest, letting his tone to echo in my ear, "Life's just scary.  I don't know what I'm going to do without you, B."

We just stay here for a moment. I'm not sure what answer I have to give, or if there is an answer at all. I let him hold me, and hope that the gesture alone will suffice for whatever reassurance that he's needing. I'm going to miss this kid more than anything.

Fear and loneliness are funny things, they tend to take away any common sense that would otherwise be quite obvious.

Eventually I sit back up, wiping my eyes and trying to somewhat clean up my face with out any source of a mirror. One breakdown later, my makeup has probably run to mars and back.

"You were the one with the problem, yet somehow you're now comforting me whose currently balling my eyes out," I give a small giggle.

"And you snotted all over my shirt," he laughs.

"Well you're not supposed to be making my cry on my birthday," I tease, glad for the lighthearted break.

Max smiles back sympathetically.

"Besides," I continue, "it's the twenty-first century. And I'm rich."

"Filthy rich." He adds, amusement warming back into his features.

"Yeah, we'll be okay just like we always are. I'll text you and call you and snap you so much it will be annoying. You'll have to put up with it though, because you're my best friend,"

"I love you too." He says, his traditional smirk once again consuming his lips.

He fumbles around in his pocket and glance down at my phone to check the time. Suddenly, I hear a noise someone could compare to that of a dying animal. A puff of air brushes my face and an explosion of colors takes over my vision. I blink and reflexes pull my hands to guard over my face.

Did he really just do what I think he did?

I shoot him a confused scowl and he lets out a hardy laugh before starting to pick the confetti out of my hair.

"What was that for?" I question, though by this point I'm already fighting a smile at his childish entertainment.

"Well you're right, it is your birthday. I didn't plan to turn into an emotional dork, but just in case I've been carrying a mini confetti cannon in my pocket all day." He explains like it's obviously simple, his giddy grin in no way fading.

"That's actually the stupidest thing you've ever done, and that's saying something," tell him, choking back my laughter.

"You say that, but it worked. didn't it?"

I roll my tired eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I'll give you this one,"

We make use of the very last of the evening's light by playing around with the Polaroid and the eight remaining films. I look terrible in every one, but pose as if I were a model regardless. Max's captured expressions make me laugh hysterically, and the view still has me in caught in amazement. The array of summery colors has now gone, but window lights illuminate the air like small individual lanterns. Each picture serves as a piece to the puzzle that tonight was, but memories are memories and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

•••

Max and I discreetly make our way back into the party, trying not to draw attention to the fact that we had ditched my own sweet sixteen. Luckily, I have a pretty good chance that no one even came close to noticing my absence.

Most of the guests have trickled from the scene, with only a few finishing up chatting with others or grabbing a last bite. I approach a circle of friends and make some final small talk for the evening.

"Thanks for having me!" Chirps a very pretty, petite girl by the name of Cassidy.

Then I feel a soft tap on my shoulder and turn around to see my chemistry partner, "Someone here sure knows how to cook." He compliments, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, John!" I press a small smile, "Thanks for coming!"

No more than ten minutes later, I'm waving to the last two attendants as they enter the elevator. I turn back to Max, who is leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"You would make a pretty good actress,"

"How do you figure?" I ask, starting to tidy the room by picking up abandoned plates and cups.

"You almost made me believe you actually liked those people." He chuckles before joining me in my cleaning.

"Whatever," I grin, "Maybe if the whole music thing doesn't work out,"

That's when the elevator doors open revealing a familiar face.

"Hello, Mrs Witherson!"

"I'm a little later than I thought, I guess." She sighs but grins anyway. The resemblances between her and her son are frankly adorable—their facial expressions being practically identical.

"Hey, Mom," Max greets his mother with a hug.

My own mother appears from out of the kitchen and slips in her own greeting.

"Sorry I'm so late!" His mom apologizes once again.

"Aren't we all?" Mom gives a tight lipped smile, before taking a double glance towards my person. "I almost thought you had left, Brooklynn,"

I can feel Max's gaze on me but I ignore it, trying not to be obvious. Instead I deal my mom an innocent smile, "Thanks for the party, Mom. I had a lot of fun,"

Mom takes and squeezes my hand in hers, "I'm glad to hear that," She lets go and examines my outfit, "Did you change?"

I simply nod, dismissing any further conversation on the particular subject.

"Anyone want a glass of water or the last bit of punch?" Heather gestures, picking up a tray of drinks.

We all gather in taking a seat, each of us now holding a glass. I can't help but note all the looks our moms keep exchanging, so finally I set a question to my curiosity.

"I haven't given you your gift yet," Mom announces, her proudly made up face literally glowing.

"Why didn't you give it to me at the party?" I wonder aloud.

"Well, I didn't want to seem too flashy."

Max legitimately spits out his water at this, leaving his shirt with a soaked trail. I try to contain the fit of laughter building inside by cupping my hand over my mouth, and end up just sounding like a deflating balloon. Heather hands him a napkin to clean the drops still dangling from his chin. He apologizes and she somehow keeps a straight face, though her dark eyes dance with amusement.

"Anyway," Mom looks at the two of us like we have officially lost it, before realigning her focus back to me and continuing, "Brooklynn, if you pass your driving test next week, your going to need a way to get around California."

"Wait really?" I'm getting a car?" I make sure. Yeah yeah, I hate being rich. But I'm also human, and everything has it's perks right? "Way cool!"

Mom models one of her perfect grins, "Happy Birthday!"

Max high fives me, clearly almost as excited as I am. As cliche as this somewhat belated gift sounds, I actually never thought it would be a reality. I guess It never really crossed my mind that I would get a car for my sixteenth, foremost reason being I live amongst over seven million chaotic city people. It's just not a necessity in my life, nor something I ever fantasized about.

Though I suppose California will arise many new experiences, beyond any perspective I've ever known.

"I know nothing about cars though, so Max, expect pictures and to pretty much just pick it for me," I laugh, though he is fully aware that I'm dead serious.

"Pictures might not be necessary," Mrs. Withers says under her breath, "I've got a little surprise for you too, Brooklynn. I just don't know if you will like it,"

I cock my head at the first comment, but continue assuringly, "I'm sure I'll love anything,"

I avert my sight to Max for half of a second. Judging by his expression, he doesn't seem to have any knowing of his mom's gift either.

"If you want you can always return it," She permits.

"Really, Mrs. Withers,"

A mischievous grin grows across her lips—the pure recreation of what Max looks like right before he's about to do something I'll more often regret than otherwise.

"Well, what if Max was there in person to pick that car out with you?" Her worried facade completely fades into joy.

"What?" I need more information, yet I know there's already a smile tugging on my mouth.

"I was thinking I might have him tag along with you in California for a week,"

"Yes!" Max and I exclaim a little too quickly, him jumping to his feet.

"I would love that!" I exclaim, my heart skipping beats, but my annoying hand clapping making up for it.

"But, wait." Max pulls his mother off to the side of the sitting area. He looks to her with heavy eyes and speaks hushed. I know exactly what he's doing. He's knows they can't afford his trip.

"Actually," Mrs. Withers argues, intentionally loud enough for me to hear, "Amanda has offered to pay the expenses for your stay."

I throw a cheesy and entirely grateful grin to my mom, who returns it instantly. As much as a hate to say it, this almost makes up for the whole party scandal earlier.

Bernie walks in as if on cue, with plates of delicious looking cake, and the group instantly breaks out into song and cheering.

As the infamous Happy Birthday tune fills the entire room, I can't help but beam and look around at all the people I love most in one place. It happened— I had a decent birthday for once, and I couldn't be anymore thankful.

"Happy Birthday, girly." Max says once again, his expression a million times more gleeful than earlier, and now reflecting my own.

•••

And here's the also extra long, part two of this chapter! I rewrote several of the scenes so many times, and I'm still not very happy with them. Tell me what you think! What was your favorite part in either of these two birthday chapters?

~Elli