I finally slink down in my seat as they end the song and there’s a smattering of applause throughout the cafeteria.

Rob holds up his hands. “For the record, that was not my suggestion.”

“True,” Marian says as she sits down next to him. “Rob did think you’d be horrified, but I wanted to do something special. You’re eighteen! It’s a big birthday and you’ve chosen to spend tonight hanging out with your dad instead of us. Now, let’s get to the presents.”

“You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” I protest.

“Wait until you open them,” Rob states.

Fair point.

“First, this is from Grandma.” Marian hands me a red envelope. Inside is a card with a fifty-dollar bill and a note that reads, I’m so proud of you and wish you nothing but happiness. Love, Grandma.

Even though Grandma Gleason isn’t technically my grandmother, she’s always treated me like I’m one of the family. I even call her Grandma, which she loves.

So do I.

Marian pulls out a folder. “Now that you’re eighteen and an adult, there’s a whole new world open for you. Here are all the forms you can use to register to vote, open a bank account, get a credit card, or, you know … get married.”

Good Lord. I haven’t been able to look at Neil since sitting, and I certainly can’t now. Although everybody else seems to be looking between us.

Can you also have the power to turn invisible when you’re eighteen?

“Maybe this is a good time to remind you that as an adult, you can also sue someone,” Neil offers.

“Oh!” That perks me up. I look right at Rob. “Good to know. Yes. Good. To. Know.” I raise my eyebrows at him, to which he winks back.

Ugh. Boys.

Jan and Julia both hand me lottery tickets. “If you win, we want half,” Jan says with a nod from Julia.

“You guys got it.”

Rob cracks his knuckles. “Now that all the boring stuff about being an adult is out of the way”—I have to admit, there is a lot of paperwork—“let’s get to the fun stuff. You can skydive.”

“I’m not jumping out of a plane.” I’ve never even been on a plane.

Rob nods. “I had a feeling you’d say that. So you and me. Green Bay. Next weekend. Let’s do it.”

“Do what?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know.

He hands me his phone. There’s a tattoo parlor pulled up.

“No.”

“Oh, come on. It doesn’t have to be anything big,” Rob insists. “I’m thinking something along the lines of ‘Rob BFF forever,’ but with the number, like”—he holds up four fingers—“evaaaah.”