They gave Junie her presents after supper. From Aunt Sal and Uncle Harold, a dress with puffed sleeves, buttons in the shape of hearts, and a built-in crinoline slip that made the skirt stick out like a princess. “I’ll wear this for my party,” she said. Their mother gave her a set of day-of-the-week panties and a Skipper doll. Nate’s present was a pin in the shape of a kitten. He had picked up a pair of horse barrettes at the five-and-ten that he’d slipped up his sleeve without any problem, but he decided it was bad luck to give his sister a birthday present he hadn’t paid for. He had put the barrettes away till he could bring them back to the store.

Their grandparents’ present came last: a pink two-wheeler, with streamers and a bell. Poppa had wheeled it in from the porch, and now they all gathered round to admire it.

“I always wanted a two-wheeler,” Junie said. “My dad was going to teach me to ride one.”

There was silence for a moment then, broken by Uncle Harold. “Never mind,” he said. “I will.”

Their mother went into the kitchen. When she came out, she had fortune cookies and the root beer floats Junie had asked for, with a candle stuck in the ice-cream part of Junie’s. She was singing “Happy Birthday,” and everyone joined in. Junie blew out the candle.

“I hope I didn’t need to have seven candles to get my wish,” she told them.

They were just finishing dessert when the phone rang. Nate’s grandmother went to answer it in the kitchen. Nate heard her voice change from her usual friendly tone.

“I don’t think that will be possible,” she said into the receiver, speaking low. “She’s tied up right now.”

Things were quiet for a moment. Then Grandma spoke again.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said, even more hushed. “It would only get her upset.” “Who is it, Mother?” Nate’s mom called.

They all knew.

“I said no, Carl,” his grandmother said. But his mother had gotten up now to take the phone.

“Carl,” she said, “I don’t want you calling here. You’ve done enough damage.”

“It’s too late for that,” she said after a pause. “I’m not interested in hearing this.”

Their grandmother tried to distract them, asking Junie about her day at school and if her class had sung “Happy Birthday” to her, but Junie’s attention was locked on the telephone in the other room.

“It’s my daddy!” Junie said, her voice rising. She got up from her chair so fast, she knocked over her float. “He remembered my birthday,” she cried. “Let me talk to him.”

Their mother’s voice was almost too quiet to hear. “Can’t you hear what’s happening? You’ve got her in a state.”