Trivial
And then it is his birthday, and he is fifteen, and they happen to be at home at the time as well, which enables them all to hold a party for him. She is thankful for that coincidence at least, because she knows that their lifestyle doesn't enable them to relax too often: they would never think of coming home especially for something so trivial as his fifteenth birthday.
He sits awkwardly at the head of the table, which is heaped high with food he can't eat and special-occasion wine he can't drink and candles that wouldn't burn him even if he stuck his hand in the flame, and there is nothing to show whether he is happy or sad except the sound of his voice. He thanks everyone for all they have done to make this into a normal party, and tries to appear as cheerful as possible; but he is only really able to watch the festivities, and not take part. He knows that he and his brother have been trying as hard as they can to achieve their goal, which after all is not an easy one in the least, but he can't help but feel weighted down with the thought that yet another year has passed without getting anywhere. He watches his brother consume vast quantities of food, and laugh raucously, and talk loudly and at length about their latest escapade; and try as he might, he can't help but feel distanced from the celebration before him, as though they are excluding him with their fervent attempts to include him- but that isn't fair, he knows they are trying their best-
And then she leans over towards him and kisses him fiercely on the side of his not-quite-face, in front of everyone, and seizes his hand, and tells him eagerly to open his presents.
Author's notes: Ugh. NOT GOING WELL. Today has sucked. I dropped my ma-hoosive file containing ALL my revision notes onto the floor (in front of my whole class, might I add), and ALL the work fell out so that the classroom had a second carpet, and everything was nice and mixed up for my revision tonight. Just in time for my Maths exam tomorrow. Yay. Did I mention that this happened twice? TWICE. MY FILE VOMITED UP ALL MY PAPER (we're talking two years' worth of work for seven subjects here) TWICE. HOLY CRAP LIFE HATES ME. -kills something with a plastic spork-
Not to mention that once I finally sat myself down for the English Language paper today, stressed and pissed off already, I discovered that the exam had no creative writing question.
Me: -sits down- Well, sorting out all those notes was SO un-fun, but at least I can write a nice story now and make myself feel better. :D -turns over paper- WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT?! WHAT THE HELL IS THIIIIS?!?!
. . . But nobody's interested in all this shit, so I'll just say: enjoy! -.-;