Well, for some strange reason, i felt like updating twice in one day. Hope it was worth it. and it's long too. Enjoy.

Chapter 10

I hummed a joyful tune as I poured the chocolate cake batter into a pan. I stuck it in the oven and slammed the door shut, before turning around and collecting myself. I smiled and took off my oven mitts and tie-dye apron, throwing them on the counter beside me.

It was funny how easy it was to bake a cake without destroying the kitchen in the process, when Oliver wasn't here. Hopefully, I wouldn't wreck this one. It was Oliver's birthday cake and it had to be nice. I had to show him that it was possible to cook something without almost burning the house down.

I smiled and walked into the living room, still humming cheerfully. I picked up a big, brown sack labeled "Birthday Fun" with magic marker. Maybe there was a method to Oliver's madness.

The Birthday of All Birthdays Bash was tonight and I was determined to enjoy myself. Nothing could bring me down tonight. I was happy and carefree. The world was sitting in the palm of my hand.

I sat down and took a deep breath. I had Oliver's present all ready. It was an assortment of happy things, a mixed CD with a special cover I made, some old comic books I got off Ebay, a giant bag of bubblegum, and a ton of other stuff. He was a hard person to shop for but I always seemed to manage somehow. It was the thought that counted anyway.

I grabbed the birthday bag and filled it with junk food and movies and other random things for our enjoyment. I seized the sack with his presents and shoved some tissue paper in the top before fastening a colored ribbon to it.

"One hour…" I thought to myself. "One hour to finish the cake."

I finished tying the ribbon and ran upstairs to get ready. It was about six o' clock pm. I reached my room and waded through the piles of junk that seemed to be slowly accumulating. I had actually done some laundry though, so I had some clean clothes to wear. I put on my lucky, black, duct-taped sneakers and brushed my hair.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I flipped my hair this way and that. I tried putting it up but it just didn't look good. I was slowly losing my ability to fix my hair nicely.

I gazed around the area once more and grabbed my beach bag. I dumped the contents out onto the floor and rooted through it. I hadn't emptied it since the 4th of July. I picked up my wrinkled towel covered in sand and threw it across the room.

"Ouch!" I yelled, realizing I had gotten sand in my eye. I ran to the bathroom and flushed it with water, getting my hair and my shirt wet. I stared at myself in the mirror and gave myself an annoyed look. I blew my wet bangs out of my eyes and walked back to my room.

I filled my beach bag with my camera and other stuff I knew I'd need. I was going to enjoy myself. I was sure of it. Oliver was going to have the best birthday ever. Who needed big parties with stupid, screaming people?

Oliver's family had given him their part of his birthday earlier that day. They gave him his presents and their own cake his mother had made. His parents knew very well about our birthday bash and gave in when Oliver told them to go out to dinner. We would have to house to ourselves, except for Oliver's older brother Oscar.

I grabbed my bag and walked downstairs. I threw it in the pile with the bag of birthday fun and the sack with his presents. I sat down on the couch and sighed. Everything was going according to plan. I lied back on the couch and shut my eyes.

"I'll just rest for a minute…" I thought, drifting off to sleep. I awoke to the timer beeping as loud as seemed possible. I jumped up and rubbed my eyes. I looked at the clock.

I had half an hour. I leaped up and scampered to the oven, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling the cake out. It was fine. I sighed and patted my heart. I was going to get done.

I set the cake down the cool and looked around the kitchen. I turned off the oven and poured myself a glass of milk. I hopped up on the counter and bit my lip, staring up at the kitchen ceiling. I hadn't counted the tiles in there yet. I began counting, waiting for the cake to cool. 300. I have too much time on my hands…

I glanced around and then hopped off the counter. I turned the pan upside down and dumped the cake out onto a plate before grabbing a bowl and mixing the icing together. Who wanted crummy icing out of a can anyway? It's filled with nasty artificial preservatives and other junk. But it does taste good. I grabbed a knife and iced the cake. It looked pretty good considering I was never very talented when it came to baking. The chocolate cake covered by the smooth, white icing actually looked professional…if you squinted.

I was soon done icing it and I grabbed a tube of blue icing off the counter. I wrote 'Happy 16th Birthday Oliver!' on the cake in big letters. I stepped back and admired my work. It wasn't bad if I do say so myself… I picked up a box of blue candles and began sticking them in the top.

I wasn't sure why I cared so much. Of course it was my best friends birthday, but I was going a little overboard. I just wanted to make him happy. I wanted to see him grin and watch his hair fall in his eyes. I wanted to see his eyes glisten from the reflection of the burning candles as he blew them out. I wanted to see him close his eyes and wish for something that would make him utterly happy in this crazy world.

He was special and I knew that. Even if others couldn't see it, it was perfectly clear to me. He had this special charm about him that no one else had, at least no one I had ever met. He could always make me feel better.

The time flew by and soon it was time to go. I picked up the cake and put it in a plastic container. I sighed contently as I closed the lid. I was excited. I couldn't wait to sit down and watch movies together and eat cake and watch him open his presents. I wanted to hear about what he got from his parents and how he was feeling.

My stomach lurched and I bit my lip. I had never been so excited to see Oliver before. But for some reason, the feeling wouldn't go away.

I pushed my bangs out of my eyes and grabbed the cake box. I shut the kitchen light off and walked into the living room. I picked up the bag of birthday fun and his present sack and my jacket and my beach bag and slowly stumbled out the door.

"Bye Mom!" I yelled behind me before stepping out into the darkness. I should have thought about how hard it would be to carry all this. I shut the door and walked down the sidewalk. I heard music, loud, blasting music. It was coming from Oliver's house. I bit my lip and wondered to myself what the heck was going on.

I walked up to his house and saw just about the last thing I wanted to see. There were lights on in every room, music blaring as loud as possible. Tons of cars were parked outside. Random people were scattered around everywhere, drinking and laughing and causing chaos. I couldn't believe it. Oliver was having a party.

More than half of the kids didn't even look our age. They looked like they were seniors or maybe even in college already. My stomach rocked and my head started to hurt. I slowly approached the house and walked inside the already opened door. I could barely make it inside with all the stuff in my hands.

People stared at me, giving me dirty looks. I looked around the house, people dancing and trashing Oliver's living room. Random junk lay everywhere. People were making out in every darkened corner. The music seemed to be getting louder and louder. My head hurt and I squinted. I slowly walked into the kitchen, more and more people staring at me like I was the one who didn't belong here. It made me angry to even think that these idiotic outsiders thought they had a right to be here on Oliver's birthday. How could they? How could he? I thought we decided on our peaceful fun. What the heck happened?

I frowned and slammed the junk I had worked so hard on, on the counter. Some guy who looked about nineteen gave me a 'Sup?' and nodded his head toward me. I ignored him and kept looking at everything. It was unbelievable. I couldn't believe whose house I was in. It didn't seem possible. Where the heck was Oliver anyway?

I suddenly saw him pushing his way through the crowd of people. He was looking around in all directions with a worried look on his face. Speak of the devil…

He spotted me and his face lit up as he made his way toward me. I gave him a dirty look and crossed my arms.

"Lilly!" I heard him yell. Well, actually I read his lips. I could barely hear anything over the ear-piercing music. I could barely even hear myself think. He finally reached me and gave me a concerned look. I didn't want to look at him. He disgusted me.

I picked up my stuff and prepared myself to leave. He grabbed me and guided me toward his room upstairs. I would have argued and tried to leave, but I was dying to hear his explanation for this one…

When we finally reached his room, he shut the door behind him only to find two random people kissing on his bed.

"Out…out…" He said, pushing them out the door and shutting it again behind them.

I looked at the ground, waiting for him to say something and bit my lip again. It was becoming an annoying habit. I didn't want to look at him. I knew that as soon as I did, I would see his wonderful face filled with regret and grief, and I'd forgive him in a minute.

"Lilly, I'm so sorry…" He said, looking at me. "I didn't want to have a party. Oscar called all these people."

As much as I didn't want to, I looked up and met his gaze. "Why would your brother have a party now?" I asked him, I could feel the waterworks coming.

"He said that turning sixteen was a big deal and that I had to have a party. I fought with him for hours about it. He said I would enjoy myself and that the party was for me, but I think he just used it as an excuse to invite all his friends. I mean, look at this place! This was never supposed to happen!"

I stared at him, the anger slowly fading. The creases in my forehead from when I was frowning slowly vanished. "Oh." I said glumly, looking down at my feet again. My stomach still hurt and I felt like punching someone. "I have to go."

I opened the door and started to walk away. I stopped and turned back to him. "Here." I said, shoving the cake and presents toward him. "Happy Birthday."

"Lilly, wait!" He called after me. He caught up with me and grabbed my arm. "Please don't go."

"Oliver, I just want to go home and go to bed."

His face looked sad, like a puppy that just got kicked across a room. He sighed. "If…if that's what you really want…" He said, looking down.

"It is…" I said, staring at my lucky sneakers. Some luck… "I don't belong here anyway. Parties aren't my thing. Everyone here gives me mean looks. I wouldn't be able to enjoy myself even if I tried… No one cares about me here…"

He grabbed me by my shoulders and leaned my back up against the wall. Our eyes met and I felt like he was looking right through me. "I care about you…" He whispered so softly I could barely hear. His eyes were so serious it almost frightened me. Oliver wasn't the most serious person in the world.

"I-I know…" I whispered back, softer than he had. "I just need to be alone right now. I…have a lot of thinking to do…"

And with that I left. I walked downstairs, past the screaming people with evil glares, past the destruction of Mrs. Oken's precious things I grew up looking at, past the flashing lights and loud music, and past any chance of happiness the night could have held. I walked outside and into the darkness. I saw the flashing lights of a police car and ran to my house, not looking back for anything in the world.

As I lied crying in the dark that night, curled up with my fuzzy blue pillow, I thought about everything I could possibly think about. And somewhere, between the hate of growing up, the hate of change, and the best recipe for fried chicken, I realized why things like alone time with Oliver, especially on his birthday, meant so much to me.

But it was so weird how it came up all of a sudden. Just this morning the thought never even crossed my mind, and now, I was announcing it to myself. I loved Oliver. He cared about me. He actually cared.

I know it sounds weird to say it like that, but out of all the boys I've dated, which isn't very many anyway, they never really cared. Now that I think about it, there was always the feeling that they were holding something back, that they didn't really want to open up to me and tell me what they were thinking.

Oliver cares. I repeated it over and over in my head. Oliver cares. He said so. And he did care. I felt one last tear rolling down my cheek as I closed my eyes. Sometimes it feels good to cry, even when you're not completely sad.

Oliver cares. Oliver cares about everything. I fell asleep and dreamed about tomorrow. He'd come bounding through the door with his classic grin and his messy hair falling in his eyes. Something had to be done about that boy…

Well, tell me what you think. Send those reviews in. :)

-Andi-