She walks closer and stands there, an obtrusive presence, one I have no choice but to acknowledge. I reluctantly pick out a jean jacket before facing her. “Yes?” I ask.

Ma holds out a fifty-dollar bill. I stare at it wordlessly. When I don’t automatically take it, she shoves it into my hand, frowning at me. “Take it. I don’t want to hear you complain we gave you nothing for your birthday.”

I almost shove it right back at her, but I don’t have the strength to have this argument today of all days. “Thanks,” I say shortly, my fingers curling around the bill.

There used to be a time when they put in loads of effort for my birthday, throwing me ostentatious parties, showering me with gifts.

Those memories only make this last-ditch effort hurt even more.

Anam watches from the doorway, her arms crossed, shaking her head.

“Don’t spend it on anything silly,” Ma says, turning away from me. She sees Anam staring at her judgmentally and pauses, looking at me over her shoulder. “Happy birthday, Poppy.”

And yet I feel further from happiness than ever.

31

When I get to school, a brief flash of gratitude runs through me at the sight of my locker. It’s covered in pictures and memes and proclamations of birthday wishes.

Rosie pops out from behind the row of lockers, carrying an armful of balloons. They’re red and gold, the USC colors. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from my best friend. “Happy birthday, Mina!”

I manage to dredge up a real, honest smile for her. “Thank you, Rosie.”

She captures me in a bear hug, squeezing until I can barely breathe. “You’re an adult now!” She pulls back, eyes bright. “Let’s hitchhike to Canada and load a duffel bag with alcohol.”

I shove her shoulder lightly. “That’s what your older brother is for.”

“Luke isn’t good for anything,” she mutters, but her eyes are still sparkling as she hands me a bright pink gift bag. “Don’t open your present until you get home, okay?”

I nod, pressing a kiss to her cheek in thanks. “I won’t.”

Rosie grins, looping her arm with mine. “One step closer to freedom, right?”

I ignore the bittersweet tug in my chest. “Exactly.”

After I open my locker, confetti raining down on me while Rosie laughs, we head to Italian together. I’m unsurprised to find Emmitt waiting near the doorway, but I am surprised to see him holding out a small box, wrapped in gold foil.

“Happy birthday, love,” he says.

I’m surprised he remembered it was my birthday. I only mentioned it offhandedly last week. Maybe Rosie told him?

Either way, I take it slowly, testing the weight of it in my palm, before looking back at him. “Thank you.”