Wheels doesn't feel sixteen when he wakes up. He knows, of course, that he is— he was born at six in the morning, so it's not a matter of waiting for the clock to strike a certain hour. But he doesn't wake up imbued with a charge of confidence or anything. He's not even any taller. (Though he does need a shave, he notes approvingly as he brushes his teeth.)

But, no matter how he feels, he is sixteen now. It should come with some kind of significance. It seems like a time to turn over a new leaf, in a lot of ways. He's old enough to drive, to work, to move out— to take care of himself. So after about five presses of the snooze button, he drags himself out of bed without having to wait for Grandma.

Grandma looks skeptical, but she holds her sour comments back, thankfully. "Happy birthday, Derek."

"Thanks, Grandma." He makes his own breakfast today. It may just be corn flakes and milk, but he doesn't have to rely on anyone else to feed him.

"Did you have any after-school plans?"

"Not really." At least, Joey and Snake haven't run any by him. It's a Thursday, so he wasn't expecting much. Maybe just a round of pinball and some pizza. "Me and my friends might go out tomorrow."

"That's nice." She smiles tepidly. "In that case, we'll have cake tonight."

"We don't have to."

"Nonsense. I already have all the ingredients." She mills around the kitchen, putting silverware away. More quietly, she adds, "How are you feeling this morning?"

Unfortunately, he knows what she's talking about. It's his second birthday without his parents, though, not his first. He barely remembers turning fifteen. He spent the whole day in a haze, dodging calls from Joey and Snake, playing solitaire in his room, and forcing down a Styrofoam-like piece of cake. For the longest time, it felt like he was still fourteen, trapped in stasis, frozen in a place outside of time. It couldn't really be his birthday without Mom making her famous buttercream icing or Dad regaling him, once again, with the grandiose story of how he was adopted and brought into their family out of love. And it still feels like a part of him stayed fourteen forever. It died with Mom and Dad.

But it's not as fresh now. It still stings when he lets his mind wander, but Wheels knows it could be much worse, because for a long time it was.

He doesn't bother trying to explain that to Grandma. She'd want to rip at the stitches and dig into the wound again, just like the social worker— and, hell, knowing her, she might somehow turn it into a lecture on his bad marks or something like that. So he just says, "I'm fine, Grandma. Really."

School is the same as always. Joey and Snake both greet him with a quick "Happy birthday, dude," but there are no presents exchanged or streamers taped to the outside of his locker. Which is fine. He doesn't mind flying under the radar. More surprising is the number of random classmates who both know about and comment on his birthday. It's nice, having it acknowledged. It's a reminder of how many people, if not care about him, at least remember him.

On his way to Geography he hears Lucy call, "Happy birthday, Wheels!" from down the hall. When he turns around to thank her, he notices she's with the twins. Erica's staring at him, not with the boiling fury of a few weeks ago but coldly, flatly. Heather glances his way too, but she looks away quickly. She's saying something to Lucy, but he can't hear them from here.

"Hey, thanks!" he yells back.

The three of them linger a little, wandering toward class or wherever packs of girls tend to go. Heather keeps glancing from him to her friends, whispering in disgust like he's a frog pinned for dissection. But she doesn't look angry. She's never looked angry, really, not even the Monday after her party, when she had every right to be furious with him. She just looks sad.

Without meaning to, he thinks, as he so often does, of Snake. Hadn't he been so happy when Snake agreed to sleep over, to treat him as a person? And then everything got weird again, because Snake got weird again, and now every interaction with him is blind and bumbling, never knowing how he'll act from moment to moment.

But, unlike Heather, at least he wasn't left completely in the dark. He knows why Snake is acting weird. And at least everything with Snake has been completely platonic. No matter how he may hope and dream, he fully knows that he could never reciprocate.

Maybe Heather just wants to forget it ever happened. But when she looks at him, he knows she deserves an explanation. As a friend.

"Uh, Heather," he calls. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

She glances from her sister to Lucy and back at him, looking for an answer on their faces before she walks toward him. "Sure, I guess." Her voice is flat. She doesn't smile.

"I, uh..." He leans back against the lockers for support. What would he want to hear? What's true enough to be worth something? "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for how I acted. After your party."

She frowns and hugs her books tighter. "You really embarrassed me."

"I know." There was no real way out of that one, though. He sure as hell couldn't go out with her. Making out with her once was awkward enough. He'd love to say that he thought it would be different with Heather, that maybe having one good make-out session with a girl would awaken something in him. But he wasn't really thinking at all that night, and it was just as off with Heather as he knew it would be.

Whether he called her or not, then, it had to look like a one-time, casual thing. No matter what, she was going to look easy. Now she looks desperate too. And he looks like a callous asshole— better than being found out, but still. Then again, you were kind of an asshole.

But he knows he couldn't have called her. He can't tell her the truth.

She stares at him for a minute, trying to read him. "Was it something I did?" she asks quietly.

No, he realizes, she didn't really do anything wrong. She couldn't have known. "No," he says. "I just... I don't really want a girlfriend right now." He winces, but he can't stop himself from adding, "It's not you, it's me."

Heather turns away, back toward her group. "Just as long as it wasn't me." She walks away, leaving him against the lockers alone.

"So, wait," he calls after her. "Are we friends again?"

She doesn't reply. Which, really, he should've expected. A taste of his own medicine.

Around six in the evening, Wheels puts the leftovers away. A half-empty canister of buttercream icing sits on the counter next to the crumbly, plastic-wrap-covered cake. He doesn't like looking at it. The smell of sugar and wax fills the air.

As he's finishing up, he hears the doorbell ring. "I'll get it!"

"Surprise!"

Joey and Snake are huddled around the door, smiling wildly. Joey's swapped out his fedora for a lime green party hat, while Snake is brandishing a stuffed grocery bag.

Wheels laughs. "You guys!"

"You didn't really think we were gonna leave you alone all day, did you?" Joey sticks his head in the doorway. "Where's your grandma?"

"In the living room. Why?"

"'Cause we're going out, man!"

Wheels feels a smile spreading over his face. He grabs his winter jacket off of the floor and yells, "Grandma, I'm going out!"

"Just be back by eleven," she replies.

"Midnight?"

"Eleven, Derek."

He scowls, but forces lightness into his voice. "All right!" He does his best not to slam the door behind him.

"It's not so bad," Snake offers as they start to walk. "My parents said I have to be back by eleven too."

"Yeah, but you're only fifteen." He jerks a thumb in Joey's direction. "He gets to stay out all night."

Joey's leading the way. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big party or anything. I wanted to invite girls, but this guy—"

"—I wanted it to be a guys' night! Is that so bad?"

"Come on, what's a party without chicks?"

"What chicks? You don't even know any chicks!"

Wheels half-listens as the two of them bicker. "What's in the bag?" he interrupts as he zips his jacket. In what feels like the blink of an eye, it's gotten cold. Clouds gather, preparing for snow.

"S'mores stuff." Snake opens the bag to reveal marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. "We're going down to Schuyler Park."

"Don't tell him! Ugh, it was gonna be a surprise," Joey says, sounding uncharacteristically apologetic.

"Do you think they have that plaque up yet?" Snake asks casually.

"What plaque?"

"The one at the spot where you got your ass kicked." Snake cackles even as Joey smacks him.

There's no plaque, but the whole park stands as a memorial, not just to Joey's failure of a fight but to junior high as a whole. Wheels used to come here a lot more in the weeks after the accident, but he hasn't been back since the spring. It's nearly unrecognizable with all the trees bare-branched. And it's hard to believe he's really standing here with friends by his side. The park is smaller than he remembered.

They stake out a fire pit in the middle of the park, surrounded by browning grass on all sides. It's pretty quiet tonight, but distantly Wheels can hear cars passing by. There's another campfire going about a hundred yards away. Otherwise, it's just them under the stars.

Snake drops the bag next to the pit. "I'll get some firewood," he says, and heads off toward the trees.

Joey unzips his jacket and pulls a few cans of beer from his inside pockets. "I figured you probably still don't feel like drinking," he explains, "so I grabbed a few pops too." He opens his coat like an illegal watch dealer. "Take your pick. I got Sprite and Coke."

Wheels grins and grabs a Coke. "Mm, it's warm."

Joey smirks. "Hey, Snake!" Snake glances back. "Want a beer?"

"Shh!" Snake shoots him a death glare. "Jeez, Joey, it's like you want to get caught! Maybe you can get it printed on a t-shirt: 'Hey, everyone, we're drinking underage!'"

Joey rolls his eyes and cracks his beer open.

Eventually, Snake manages to scrounge up a pile of firewood. "Which one of you knows how to start a fire?"

"I'll do it," Joey replies with a wave of the hand. He sets his beer down next to the pile. "I was in Cub Scouts for years."

"You got kicked out of Cub Scouts."

Joey ignores that. "Besides," he says, "Wheels, man, it's your birthday. We'll take care of the setup."

"Thanks, guys." He sits on the ground. If he hadn't been in such a rush to get out of the house, he probably would've grabbed a blanket or pillow, but he didn't, and it's too cold to sit on his jacket. Really, it doesn't matter. If sitting on the ground is the worst part of this evening, it's going to be one of the best nights of his life.

Snake sits next to him, but he stares forward at the pile of firewood. He's one foot away, nearly close enough to touch. But not quite.

Does he feel them not-quite-touching? Does he notice? Does it bother him?

Wheels scoots away, just by an inch or two. He can't let himself think about that. He can't talk about it, not here, not now. Not tonight. He shoves those thoughts out of his mind. Tonight, none of that matters. He savors his Coke and listens to Joey click his lighter over and over.

Finally, just as the sun finishes setting, the tufts of grass they've collected catch on fire, eliciting cheers all around. "Let there be light!" Joey exclaims as Snake laughs maniacally.

"All right!" Wheels grabs a stick and reaches for the bag.

"Hang on!" Joey has a swig of his beer and tosses a can to Snake. "A toast."

Snake catches it. "You're supposed to toast before you start drinking."

"Whatever." He raises his can. "To the band!"

"To turning sixteen!" Wheels says.

"To Wheels," Snake says simply.

Together, they drink. He tastes the warm pop, the crisp air, and the smoldering charcoal, all of it together in a dizzying mix. He wants to drink this moment slowly, to hold it close and to relish in it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the firelight flicker across Snake's face, shining light on his smile, and knows he wants to remember tonight just the way it is.

"Mm!" Joey says with a mouth full of beer. "What about the presents?"

"Aw, guys, you didn't have to get me anything."

"What kind of birthday party is it with no presents?" From the bottom of the bag, underneath the s'mores ingredients, Joey unearths two small gifts, handing one to Snake. "Here, open mine first."

It's a lump inside of a brown lunch bag. Wheels closes his eyes and presses it to his forehead. "Hmm… It's a car."

"Just open it!" Joey and Snake yell in unison.

He shakes the bag open. It's a pair of fuzzy red dice on a string.

"Now if you flunk the test," Joey says, "I want that back."

"If I flunk the test, Joey, you can have it." He smiles and imagines hanging them over the rearview of his future car, making it his own. "Thanks, man."

"Do you want mine now?" Snake's holding a small rectangle wrapped in newspaper. "This one's the car."

It's a cassette— it may, in fact, be one of their many leftover demo tapes that's been overwritten. On the back, Snake's carefully penciled in a track list. It's all metal. Some of it he's heard, but some only sounds dimly familiar.

As if reading his mind, Snake says sheepishly, "I didn't know what you already had, so I tried to make it a mix. But, like I said, if you ever wanna borrow anything…"

Even though Joey can still see him, Wheels doesn't even try to hide his smile. "This is perfect."

Without warning, Snake leans over and hugs him with one arm across the shoulders. It's almost like the simple hugs they used to share, but slower, warmer. For a moment, Wheels lets himself rest his head on Snake's shoulder. Snake doesn't pull away, and it's all Wheels can do to keep from staying this way all evening, feeling his head rise and fall with Snake's breathing as they watch the fire flicker.

"Hey, Snake, pass me a marshmallow!" Joey chimes in.

Immediately, Snake drops his arm and starts rifling through the bag. Wheels jerks away. Caught red-handed.

Even if Joey weren't here intruding, it would be wrong to stay like that. He knows Snake didn't mean anything by it. It was a friendly gesture. It's sick to try and turn into something it's not.

But he didn't pull away.

So what? You didn't pull away from Heather either, he thinks. But was Snake just letting him lean into the hug like that? Discreetly, he scans Snake's face, but the guy is impossible to read.

On the other side of him, Joey downs the rest of his beer. "Hey, check this out!" he says, four words that never precede anything good. Thankfully, Joey only crushes the empty can against his forehead. It leaves a ring.

"What'd you do that for?" Snake asks flatly as he rotates his marshmallow. He moves his foot slightly and almost spills his nearly-full can of beer.

Joey looks at him, then at Wheels, as if to say, Can you believe this idiot? "'Cause why not?" He points at Snake's beer. "How come you're not drinking?"

Snake glances down at Wheels again, quickly, before staring back into the fire.

"I don't care if you drink," Wheels says.

Still, Snake stares resolutely ahead. "I know, I just don't feel like it tonight, that's all."

"What?" Joey laughs in disbelief. "Come on, man! It's a party!"

"I said no, okay?"

Joey looks taken aback for a second. "Sure, whatever. But, uh, if you're not gonna finish it…"

Snake sighs and passes the can over to him. "Knock yourself out." After a moment's hesitation, he adds, "But not really, Joey. Go slow."

"Thanks, Mom." Joey takes another big swig.

As the fire burns down, time seems to melt a little, spreading out like a puddle beneath them. They laugh, they drink, they play cards and talk about anything that comes to mind, compressing everything they should've done last year into one long, unbroken night. Finally, around ten, the fire starts to die. Joey lounges next to it, crowded by three empty beer cans and even more candy-bar wrappers.

"Think we should get some more wood?" Wheels asks.

"It's getting pretty late." Snake pours the rest of his pop onto the fire. The embers sizzle and give up a puff of sugary smoke. Wheels is left shivering as a breeze cuts through where the fire had been. "Plus, Joey's pretty sloshed."

"He's fine." Wheels stands up and stretches. "Hey, Joey! You ready to head back?"

"Aw, come on, guys! The night is young!" His voice is wobbly and limping, stretching out with each word as if he'll get to stay out as long as he keeps talking.

"We've got to be home by curfew. Come on." Snake grabs Joey by the wrists and yanks him to his feet. He stumbles a little and flings his arms out side-to-side like he's pretending to be an airplane. Then he bursts into peals of laughter.

Snake gives Wheels a look.

"Okay, maybe he's a little more drunk than I thought." Wheels rests a hand on Joey's shoulder. "You all right, man?"

"I'm fine, lemme go." He shrugs off Wheels' hand and staggers away from the fire pit, toward Snake and the street. One step. Two steps.

And then he pukes. Wonderful.

Snake jumps back. "Jesus, Joey, watch the Jordans!" He reaches out and tries to aim Joey as much as possible toward the fire pit.

"How do you get wasted off of three beers?"

"He weighs, like, ninety pounds. I'm surprised he's still standing."

Wheels gives them both the once-over. Snake only looks a little annoyed at Joey's newest mishaps. (His sneakers, mercifully, have been spared.) Joey, though, stands slumped, bleary-eyed and confused. Unbelievably, he's still wearing his party hat. It shines a luminous alien green in the moonlight. If he squints, Wheels can imagine Joey five or ten years older at a backstage afterparty looking more or less the same.

From there, he and Snake don't have to say anything. With a nod, they each throw an arm around Joey's shoulders and drift down the road toward his house.

Snake handles the pleasantries with Joey's mother. He's always been better at buttering people up, particularly adults. Wheels does the smart thing, then, and stands guard on the Jeremiahs' front lawn.

After what seems like hours, Snake reappears, bounding down the porch steps. "Let's get out of here," he says quickly. "Oh, man, I've never seen her so mad!"

"I didn't think Joey's mom could get mad." He trails behind Snake until they reach the intersection.

"Think he's gonna be okay?"

"I don't think his mom's gonna kill him, if that's what you're wondering."

Snake laughs. "I mean, he's gonna hate himself in the morning."

"He'll sleep it off," Wheels replies. "But I'll bet you ten bucks they let him stay home 'sick' tomorrow."

"His parents? That's a sucker's bet."

As they stand under the street signs, he's fully prepared to swallow his disappointment and say good night here, but Snake says, "Hey, let me walk you home." He smiles shyly. "It's still your birthday, after all."

"Sure, all right."

They head down the street together, walking side-by-side but not too close. Wheels has his hands in his pockets. Hanging freely, his fingertips might brush against Snake's and remind him that they could be holding hands. And he can't spoil the evening with those thoughts now.

But Wheels' mouth and his brain are usually disconnected, and there's nothing he wants more now than to keep Snake talking. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. "Do you think we'll ever be famous?"

"Why are you thinking about that now?"

Hanging out with the two of them again, the way it'd been before any of this, reminded him of the way they used to pack slowly in the auditorium and talk about their famous future like it was a certainty. "I don't know. Just thinking."

Snake walks slowly, letting Wheels keep pace. They don't really look at each other, but there is something comfortable about being here with him in the quiet. His shoulders unknot. He walks leisurely.

"I think we could be. One day," Snake replies. "You're really good, you know?"

"Yeah, right."

"You are!"

Wheels ducks his head and smiles. He lets the compliment warm him, but only says, "I can't do all that classical stuff like you."

"It's pretty boring, most of it. I mean, it's all right if you're into music theory and stuff, but I'd rather play a cool solo." He walks slowly. "My mom likes it better when I play classical though."

"If she likes classical, she can learn it herself."

Snake nods dully, like the thought has never occurred to him before. "That's true."

He can't contain his bitterness. "Look, Snake," Wheels says, "why do you give a shit what your parents think, after what they did?"

"It's not what they think," he replies. "I just don't want to make them mad."

They walk quietly for a little while, before Snake adds, "Glen might come home for Christmas, actually. My mom wants to invite him; my dad's the one who said no."

Wheels doesn't let himself read into the mention. "I hope he does."

"Me too."

As they approach, Grandma's house looms above them in the darkness. They meander toward the side of the house.

"I'm glad you could come out tonight. Even with Joey and all."

"That's okay," he replies unsteadily. "I'm glad you guys had fun."

"Didn't you have a good time?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."

Snake gives him a shaky smile, shining in the moonlight. "That's great." He doesn't move.

Wheels doesn't move either. He's terrified that if he does, the moment will pop like soap bubbles, and he'll be left standing alone in the cold Thursday night. But if he doesn't move— if he's gentle enough— this will survive without breaking, and he'll be able to enjoy it for as long as he wants.

But it's almost ten-thirty, and Snake's got a pretty long walk home ahead of him.

"I guess you should probably be getting home."

Snake nods, but he doesn't move toward the road. He's shivering. His hands are shaking.

"You cold?" Wheels asks. Instinctively, he starts to take off his own jacket.

In response, Snake kisses him.

For a long second, Wheels can't believe it. Of course Snake isn't kissing him, because Snake is straight and he's delusional, always wanting things he can't have. But a second passes. A second passes and he comes to and realizes that, yes, that is Snake's hand on his cheek and Snake's mouth against his. He thinks: Oh, so this is what the big deal is, and kisses back, more insistently, barely able to breathe for fear of bringing everything down.

Snake pulls back first, just enough to break the kiss, but close enough to still be not-quite-touching. He stares down at him, wide-eyed, though his expression is still indecipherable. Then he closes his eyes and sighs.

The break is just long enough for Wheels' brain to start working again. "Why didn't you say something?"

Snake stays silent. He turns and starts hitting his head gently against the side of the house. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…."

"Hey, hey," he soothes, and gingerly rests a hand on Snake's back. "Don't hurt yourself, buddy." In this moment, it feels absurd to call him buddy— it's what he might call Joey, or a dog— yet it feels right somehow. It's a gesture of unbroken friendship.

Snake rests his forehead against the wall, but he doesn't turn around. "I'm sorry, I'm just— I've been really confused, and I couldn't stop thinking about— you, but this whole thing— I don't know what I am but I couldn't get the thought out of my head and I had to know…"

"Snake. Look at me."

Snake turns his head, looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"It's all right. Okay?" A laugh bubbles up. "This is great. Isn't this great?"

Finally, he gets a smile out of Snake— a small one, but still. "It was nice, I just… I had to be sure."

He sucks in a breath. "Well?"

Another second passes.

"...I don't know."

Wheels takes half a step back. "You're drunk," he offers, like a lifeline.

"No, I'm not. Joey took my beer." And it's true; Wheels couldn't taste any alcohol in the kiss. "I just… I need to think about it." He looks at his shoes and repeats, as if to himself, "That's it. I just need to think about… everything."

"Okay," Wheels says slowly, reassuring himself as much as Snake. "You should."

Piece by piece, he peels away from the wall. "How about I call you tomorrow?"

"Oh, I'm not falling for that one." Wheels grins. He can't help himself. It's impossible to suppress a smile now.

Snake smiles too, a little weaker— an echo. He backs away toward the street.

"We'll see each other in school tomorrow, right?" Wheels calls.

Snake doesn't reply. He turns and runs away into the darkness.