I'm usually not one for slumber parties.
Or birthday parties.
Or parties.
Or, really, anything to do with any type of human contact. Still, Alex was my best friend, and I couldn't find it in myself to come up with some lame excuse to not come. Besides, the poor kid needed me. He'd be lost without me around.
So, I came. We went through that whole fiasco with the twins, Hunter, my drawing and, of course my little "problem".
It started when I was three. I was chasing this butterfly around the yard. Every time I came close to catching it, it managed to elude me. I got frustrated and my palms started smoking. My ears rang with an electrifying power, sizzling and popping like a microwave. Clouds began to form, crashing into each other almost competitively over my head. They rumbled.
"Grace?" My mother yelled from the patio.
I reached for the butterfly again and missed. My fists clenched. My head swam.
I could smell the electricity, the fire, the power coursing through my veins. It called me to rule it, to be over it, to use it and create it for something that was just out of reach in my mind, much like the butterfly.
The smoke clogged around me. Lightning struck to my right.
I tried again for the butterfly and again it flew away.
I screamed in outrage.
"Grace!"
The lightning crackled.
"Tristian!" She called to the left. Her attention scrabbled back to me. "Grace, stop!"
I couldn't.
I wouldn't.
I wanted that butterfly more than anything else.
In a last attempt I went for it -
"GRACE!" It echoed in my ear drums like the pounding of a wave. My body burned and my eyes stung. My very flesh sizzled before my eyes. I felt like the witch in the wizard of Oz, melting by the water's touch. Her scream pierced through my numbness.
She ran for me. Crashed beside me. Held my head and cried out, screaming for every Greek god known in existence. She gingerly reached for my arms, which burned with the heat of a thousand Fields of Punishment. I remember salty tears running down my cheeks. I remember seeing the smoke, the clouds clogging my vision.
"Dad, please!" Mom cried to the sky.
"Grace," Alex put his hand on my shoulder. I shuddered, the memory subsiding, for now at least. I could still feel my skin bubbling with heat.
"Yeah?" I croaked.
"You missed the birthday song." My best friend pouted vainly. "I guess you'll have to sing it all by yourself."
I snorted. "In your dreams, Death Breath."
"What if I deal it out of you? If Tommy gives me another soccer ball for my birthday, you have to sing the song to me. If he gets me what I actually want, I'll clean your bathroom."
I tapped my chin. "And my bed room. Under the bed included." He shuddered now.
"That's scary. But deal." He spit into his palm and held out his hand. I did the same, and we shook, saliva mixing with saliva.
"Alex!" Aunt Zirk's voice clawed the air. Something seemed off about her lately. Along with my awesomely-weird electro-kill'y powers and the ability to sense oncoming storms, I acquired the power of reading people's auras. I know, crazy, but one hundred percent true. Zirk's aura had gone from a fiery orange, which clearly described her, to a mellow, timid, almost careful pink. It was strange, to say the least.
"Presents waiting, broseph! Better come claim 'em for I take 'em." he snorted. "Hey, that's pretty catchy, too!"
"No, it's not, Tommy," Olivia sneered, starting the vicious cycle again. I groaned.
"Stop them."
He winked, holding a thumbs up. "On it. Let's go, shorty." Together, without mention of the usual race, jogged to the patio, swinging open the glass doors and tumbling inside.
"Mine first!" Olivia piped.
"No, mine!" Tommy interjected. I slunk to the background, drifting by my mother. Sadly, we shared the same feeling, of being out-casted from the group, not that I minded. I enjoyed my space.
She nudged me as the twins continued to argue until Alex decided on one sent from his grandma on his Dad's side. "You should go up there."
"Nah," I shook my head, crossing my arms in her like fashion. "It's not worth it. Maybe when he picks up Call of Duty Three and has a heart attack of happiness."
She chortled. "I doubt anyone can have a heart attack of happiness."
I raised my eyebrows. "You'd be surprised, Mom." I gestured to Alex, having to call over the budding heads. "What's it, bro?"
"Book," he answered curtly, soft smile purring on his lips. "The Book Thief."
I laughed, "Fancy."
He nodded approvingly. "Totally, right?" He turned back to the present table, plucking another from the stack. Board game, the original clue from his mom. He hugged Zirk passionately, my best friend amused by the simplest of things. The rest of the gifts coincided between new books, the latest films, right down to Olivia's gag-gift - a jersey of Alex's most hated baseball team. I'll admit, I snorted loudly when he lifted it up, the fakest smile I'd ever seen on his face.
"Gee, Liv. Thanks."
She bowed regally. "All in a day's work, my good sir." She smirked, winking to let him know her game. He winked back, folding the shirt and placing in a neat pile on the table, next to his other new possessions.
And then, the final present. Tommy's. I leaned forward slightly, arches perched on edge, my entire fate sitting on what lay inside.
The bag itself hid the present. Alex ripped up the tissue paper, tossing it this way and that, earning a collection of eyerolls between my mom, Zirk, Zember and Zephanie. The three men eyed each other uneasily, making excuses to head out back through the sliding glass doors. Dad patted his pack of ciagarettes against his palm. I shivered, muttering, "I wish he wouldn't do that."
Mom wrapped her arm around my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze as Alex lifted the present high into the air.
I moaned and fell to the floor, burrying my face in the floorboards in defeat.
Alex stood above me, smirking, holding the ball out for all to see.
He stooped down next to me, tapping my skull. "You know what has to happen, G."
"No."
"You shook on it."
"Can I die instead?"
"Nope."
"Take a rain-check?"
"'Fraid not."
I scowled up at him. He smiled back, holding the ball out. "Wanna hold it? Freshly made..." he flipped the box around, looking for the name. "...Wilson. A freshly made Wilson. Now all we need is an island, an ice-skate, and you're tooth blood."
"You're funny." Flopping my face back on the floor, I held out my hand expectantly. He lifted me up without question, and I snatched the ball from him with peeved hands. All eyes were on me. Olivia and Tommy had made their ways outside, now balancing the crater-making soccer ball between their selective knees. Hunter sat on the couch, downing another one of Alex's precious Cokes. Him and his mother eyed it jealously before turning back to me.
"You promised you'd sing it," he whispered in my ear.
"Not in front of everyone!" I whisper-screamed back.
He mulled it over before nodding his acceptance. "Alright. Tonight, during the slumber party, you have to get down on your knees in front of my bag, make the creepiest, most skin-crawling and disgusting pedophile look you can muster, and whisper it to me in a seductive manor."
My eyes widened with horror.
"Or sing it in front of everyone." he shrugged. "Your choice."
"Pssh," my lips rolled. I threw the ball-in-a-box at him. "I'll seduce you to sleep."
"That's my girl. Now," he gestured to everyone. "Let's eat!"
