I hugged the painting against my chest as Avan continued to drive.

I hoped he couldn't see me because I knew it was an odd sight. But, I wanted a hug from Riley, and that was the only way I would ever get it.

Perhaps it was the first signs of delusions, but the hard frame in my arms appeared to give me comfort as if it was hugging me back.

Avan didn't say anything, so I assumed he hadn't seen it. I didn't break the silence either until I finally paid attention to the road and realized we weren't driving home. The houses didn't look familiar and merged into an unidentifiable blur as we drove by them.

"Where are we going?" I said, raising my hand to block the mid-afternoon sun as it pierced through the windshield, desperately trying to reach me.

Avan hesitated before answering, "You'll like it, I promise." He wore a mysterious expression on his face that gave nothing away.

I watched him suspiciously. "You can't possibly know that."

"We'll see."

I cautiously placed Riley's portrait next to my feet as the car pulled up on the side of the road. I still had no idea where we were.

A sign dangled from its post, threatening to fall at the slightest touch onto the heads of unsuspecting pedestrians. I had to tilt my head to read the writing on it, "Twist & Shout Corner".

Someone had scribbled "Bring back the jukeboxes!" in all caps with a red marker under the name.

"Wait, is that—" I struggled not to gape at the sign. "Are we at the Corner?"

Avan smiled at the shock I was sure was visible on my face.

"I never thought I'd see this place again," I told him as we got out of the car and walked to the front door, carefully avoiding the signpost that no one cared enough to fix.

"It's not a birthday without karaoke."

The phrase brought a grin to my lips because Riley said that very same thing every year we came here. She probably didn't even do it on purpose, but she was so forgetful that it likely sounded new to her every single time.

The Corner, as all its regulars insisted to call it, was the only karaoke place in High Point that was not a bar. It hadn't changed at all since last year, even though it was in dire need of a makeover.

Every single detail was just as I remembered it—the faded blue paint on the wall and the lights that occasionally flickered in exhaustion, testifying of their long years of service. Perhaps, the owner was just as reticent to change as I was.

Not many people were inside, which was one of the best things about the Corner. It was never crowded.

I located my dad and my friends at an isolated corner in the back with a view of the stage, where two tables had been brought together to fit the size of our group.

Maybe our natural gravitation toward the back of any room should concern me, especially since we did the same thing at school—which was definitely an issue for our grades.

But it was our usual spot, mostly so that those who dared to sing wouldn't see our hysterical fits of laughter. The stage was the main entertainment of the place and throughout the years, we had witnessed some of the most hilarious performances.

Dad waved as we walked to them. I sat by Arson whose eyes had not left the stage since I walked in.

Following his gaze, I saw Brooklyn performing on stage a song that I didn't recognize. Her voice was half-muffled by the loud beat, but she seemed to reach all the notes with ease.

The usual goofy expression on her face was gone and replaced by an earnest and wistful look as she transformed whatever she was singing into a musical masterpiece.

The few other people in the room weren't focused on her song. Some were playing cards in the back, and some were fascinated by their phones. Most of my friends wore stunned expressions, but the shock I read on Arson's face brought a smile to my lips as he watched her every move.

"Hey," I said, drumming on his shoulder with my fingers to get his attention.

He glanced at me. "I didn't see you get here."

I scoffed. "Of course you didn't. You looked a little distracted," I said and he nodded absentmindedly. "I had no idea Brooklyn had such a lovely voice."

"Yeah, I wonder what else she's hiding."

When he finally snapped out of it, he turned to me and fiddled with a brown paper napkin from the stack placed in the middle of the table.

"You left in a hurry this morning." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Is everything okay?"

I knew my dad was within earshot, and I didn't want to offend him, even though he probably already understood the impact of his gift. Henry and Jayce were chatting with him, and I hoped they kept him distracted enough.

"Everything's good," I said, then I replied to the birthday wishes of the rest of my friends.

Arson didn't seem fooled by my bubbly attitude, but he didn't get a chance to question it as Brooklyn joined us.

A grin was plastered on her lips as usual. "Happy birthday, Avery!" She gave me a side hug. "Does anyone else want to sing?"

"Right," Arson said, and the mocking smile on his face widened. "As if you didn't just set the bar too high for the rest of us."

"Is that your way of saying I sounded nice?" She nudged him in the ribs.

"Fishing for compliments, aren't you?" he asked and gave her a strange half-smile.

"Okay, guys. Stop it," Matthew said, holding up his hand to interrupt them. "If you two are going to flirt all night, at least define the relationship first."

He tugged on the sleeve of the red hoodie he was wearing over bright green jeans that shouldn't even be sold. His chaotic appearance did not fit in with the calm ambiance of the room, but I supposed that was his goal.

"Are you posing as a Christmas tree?" I asked, and he scowled at the joke.

"One of your best ones yet," he said and clapped, barely making a sound.

"Yeah? It took me a while to come up with it." I laughed, and he shook his head, though an amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips

"Such wicked humor today," Jacob said, "Are you going all out because it's your birthday?"

"It's a year-round event," Matthew pointed out.

"By the way, I got you some fresh celery. I thought you'd appreciate it." He grinned sheepishly.

"You need to let it go, Jake." I dramatically pushed his chair away from mine.

"Not a chance."

"Speaking of good gifts," Matthew said, "do you see any difference?"

"Any difference in what?" I glanced at him, but nothing seemed to have changed about him.

He pointed at my phone on the table, and I noticed that it had a new case—similar to Matthew's with Inigo's sword and catchphrase.

I contemplated the mesmerizing details of the sword's design. "How did you even get my phone?"

"You would be shocked to see how distracted you look when you're trying to find something funny to say," he mocked. "Also, it was right in front of me."

"Thanks." I brushed my fingers against the case; it looked three-dimensional, but the surface felt flat.

"Much better than the blank one, isn't it? Look at me, introducing colors into your life." He grinned.

I stared at the dazzling red color of his hoodie. In more ways than one, I thought and shook my head to keep myself from saying it.

"Hey! I liked mine too." I wasn't about to admit that I liked his case more. "So, is Inigo your spirit animal or something?"

"No, you see, I think Prince Humperdinck represents me much more accurately. I am the evil but brilliant mastermind behind it all."

I scrunched up my nose. "Mastermind? Really? Do you really think that?" I joked.

"No, but a guy can dream."

"Let's go make fools of ourselves on stage." Bradley stood up and nodded for us to follow him. "I have the perfect song."

I don't know what came over me, but I went with them and soon, we were all singing along to the Corner's theme song—The Isley Brothers' Twist and Shout.

Mrs. Goff, who owned the place, loved to say that the Corner had been the first place where they performed the song in the 1960s. Riley and I laughed every time she told the story but she always did, anyway.

Dad watched us dance and act like the teenagers we were supposed to be. He took out his phone to record it, a pleased smile on his face.

As I had thought earlier this week, this was a far cry from the birthdays I had been used to, even if this was the same place. Different people. Different conversations. But, as the celebration neared its end, I realized that I had enjoyed everything about it.

When I scanned our silly group of dancers, however, I realized that I couldn't locate Avan.

I jumped down the low stage and walked to Dad. "Have you seen Avan?" I asked him.

"I think he stepped outside a few minutes ago."

My head was pounding, still whining about the reckless jumps I had done earlier, as I headed towards the exit.

When I pulled the door open, I almost bumped into Avan who was coming in.

"Oh, good," he said when he saw me. "I was just about to look for you. There's someone who wants to talk to you."

We walked outside together, and a guy stood up from the bench next to the signpost. I remembered him because of his light curly hair.

"Ross, right? We met at the fair." I smiled when I remembered his magic tricks that had lifted my mood that day.

He nodded, but the somber expression on his face today did not match his contagious energy at the fair.

Maybe it was that abashed look on his face that made me recognize him from even before the fair. "That day, at the hospital," I said, shocked that I hadn't made the connection before, "the guy sobbing across from us, it was you, wasn't it?"

Once again, he nodded. "Yeah, it was me. That's... that's what I wanted to talk to you about," he said and rubbed the back of his neck.

I rubbed my arms as I waited for him to say something again. For a while, until he spoke, I could only hear the sound of cars speeding past each other, the gentle noise of the breeze in my ear, and the music from the karaoke bouncing off the walls.

"That day, I was there because my dad was in surgery. They said he has been in some sort of coma ever since." He paused, and I nodded in sympathy though I hadn't figured out why he was telling me this until he added, "My dad— he was the truck driver that collided with your sister's car."

A/N: Thanks for reading!

As I'm typing this, my fingers are literally trembling because of exhaustion and I cannot keep my eyes open. 

Ahh, writing... When will our love-hate relationship end?

-D.T. ➷