Chapter Three: Eighteen

Have you ever read those books or seen the movies where the protagonists are either struck over the head or doted upon so that they can be sacrificed by their grass-wearing caretakers to their fire god? That was something like what I'd just walked into.

The sun was halfway below the horizon when I was suddenly assaulted by a bunch of winged, mask-wearing natives, ushering me into my tent. I laughed helplessly - they were too funny, too cute for this - and obliged to 11-year-old Angel, resplendent in her bikini top and grass-skirt and tiki-mask, do my hair and dress me up for the part while the others put the finishing touches on the event outside.

"Do I have to wear the skirt?"

"Ooga," she grunted. I fought down a smile. "I take it that means 'yes'."

"Ooga."

Hula skirt, it was. "Do I...have to wear a coconut top, too?" I asked, tentatively.

Angel cocked her head to the side, as though considering it. "Eeka."

"Was that a 'no', or a 'maybe'?"

She held up a floral silk scarf. Oooooh, okay. I shook my head and bound it around my upper half. Angel secured it for me, then a braided twine with a shell for a choker. The last bit to do was hand me my mask, kind of heavy, and bug-eyed. I put it on, but Angel pushed it to the top of my head. Not yet, she thought to me, and then pulled me outside.

Recorded drum music assuaged my ears. The bonfire blazed merrily on the shore, and five wildly dancing winged Fire Attendants gyrated and hooted around it. Our bodyguards stood at attendance at the bar-setup, where came the smell of delicious gourmet seafood and whatever else that got my mouth watering like a facet. Oh God. Oh my God. It's like Emeril's kitchen back there! Mom showed up with the biggest mask of all (and wearing the coconut bra...she's too cool), bearing a bowl of red paint. I held still while she painted a vertical stripe from under my eye to my chin on both sides, then a red hand-print on my shoulder.

Lucas took the bowl from her and gave her a decorated staff, which she held up. "Ooga la koolay!" She announced. "Maximum aypa la oo-lee!"

The dancing bird-freaks all raised their hands and gave a shout so loud that I jumped. Dang, some party! Made me wanna get up and dance, too! "Maximum aypa OP-TOH!"

"YAAAAH!"

"I-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi!"

Mom spread her arms wide. "In an hour, the finest fighter the world has ever known will have achieved 18 years," she continued in English, raising the staff high above her head. "My daughter will be socially accepted in this world as an adult. And a finer woman there never was, nor probably ever will be."

Another elated shout. I felt pride swelling in my chest, and the corners of my eyes prickling. I wouldn't cry. If I did, I'd smear my paint. Oh, Mom. "Tonight we celebrate her long-sought victory! Tonight we dance, long into the dark! Tonight - we shall sing!"

Another roar broke out, and one of the masked dancers pulled me into the circle. I don't know how to dance, I'm pretty sure none of us do. But that didn't matter. And what's to it, anyway? A little jump here, a little wild shake there - just follow the drums and BOOGIE, baby! Hah!

The Navy, our personal army that came with us to set up the place (bunking on their ship, the U.S.S. Inertia) stood to attention on the deck and on the sand, joining in on our party, taking part in drinks and the pseudo-tropical feast our Assigned had prepared for the occasion. I don't know how long we spent dancing and laughing, whirling each other around in circles and throwing out crazy moves, but I think it went too fast. Before long, the hour was up, and the dark sky suddenly filled with lights and crashes. Firecrackers!

The rockets screamed from the naval craft and exploded and popped brilliantly over the water, the moon backing them in the most spectacular scene I'd witnessed in a long time. Our dancers and music stopped, and everyone removed their masks to sing the Birthday Song. The forces on the ground stood to attention, saluting me. This...this had to be the best birthday, ever.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU! And many moooorre!"

And there you have it. I was eighteen at last. A legal adult in the social world. I didn't feel too different - but I definitely take back what I said before. This was HUGE. I really made it!

The sands erupted with applause. Naval officers lined up and, one by one, pressed flower bracelets onto my wrists like we were in Hawaii or something. Ella threw a rosary of them around my neck. And after much toasting, the REAL feast had begun: Monroe, Lucas, Xavier, Brian, and the other BG's, wearing white uniforms that buckled to their chins, escorted trays of baked fish and sushi and roasted seabird and crab-legs and oh good GOD I LOVE food, ANY food, and I could hardly put a name to whatever else was along! Jumbo shrimp on skewers, wonderful, steaming lobster dishes, salads, pasta and who knows whatever else. I tried to hold back and not shovel it down, but you know me...and it was all. SO. GOOD.

"Don't cry, Max," Gazzy consoled, dabbing my eyes with a napkin as they watered up out of pure love. "Yeah," Iggy concurred around a mouthful of lobster. "Save your tears for when we've eaten all your birthday cake."

The cake in question was an enormous, chocolaty, fudgey, double-decker heart-attack on a platter the size of a truck tire, and about as thick. Only reasons I let anyone even LOOK at a piece was because they all contributed in some way - Iggy, Ella, Mom, and the BG's had labored away on that monster until it was perfect; everyone else had to carry it. I blew out the eighteen candles with a flourish, a wish firmly in mind. Iggy passed the knife to me, and I was surprised when the knife just went through it like butter instead of having to be sawed.

Do I even have to go into detail about how good it was? I don't possess enough adjectives in the world to describe it's wonderful, chocolaty, gooey goodness. I could write a book on it alone.

So I'll skip that and get to the goods. We sat around the fire, eating dinner and cake and ice cream, and passing up the presents.

Total and Pola (his first son), with Nudge's help, got me a set of new clothes and earrings for special occasions. Because it was my birthday, and they were just that snazzy, I wore them anyway, their diamonds glinting in the firelight.

Gazzy and Iggy had been responsible for the fireworks; Mom and Ella got me a heavy silver, ornate locket. I didn't know what it was at first, but Angel showed me how to pry it open, and there were their pictures, Ella's on the right, Mom's on the left, smiling from their glass panes. "This way, we won't exactly have to stay behind on your journeys," said Mom. Hey, I thought, better than a microchip! I gathered them both up in a hug, overcome.

But the night's final present was the best. I looked around at them all and their happy, painted faces (Iggy had ironically given himself whiskers, like a cat). Another year alive. Another year complete. We're still together. I know siblings usually don't always appreciate each other, but...waking up to the miracle of them, every day, was something in itself, something I could never take for granted. I'm so glad to have them. They are my everything.

Fang stood up and held out his hand to me, and I took it, wondering if another crazy dance was in store for us. He turned to Dr. Martinez. "With your permission, I will give Max her present now," he said. Ella and the girls were giggling about something excitedly, and my heart raced. I couldn't imagine what was that amusing. Mom popped a chip into her mouth. "That's up to Max. She's the one you gotta ask, now."

Now the guys were snerking, too. I gave Fang a sideways look, and he squeezed my fingers reassuringly. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"You want your present?"

I couldn't suppress a skeptical smirk. "Yes...?"

"Then - come on. You won't be disappointed."

Good luck, Max! Angel sent, and I blew her a kiss, bewildered as to what everyone else but me knew. Since it was my birthday, I'd let that pass. It was the only time surprises were fun, after all!

Fang and I did a U&A, up, high above the fort, high above the beach, hand in hand; and then we were winging to the isle adjacent, East Ship Island, where the lighthouse loomed against the moon. I tried to keep it cool. I never asked for much for any occasion, other than to survive another day. This was downright weird...and fun. What could it be?