3. Birthday Adventures with Ghosts
Birthday Adventures with Ghosts
Gnats flurry around in the sunbeams as they poke through the canopy.
The frayed edges of the tree branches swaying in the cool fall wind, as I absently pick at the pumpkin insides still trapped under my nails.
I carved our jack-o'-lanterns earlier with Mom, not that I did a lot of carving. My job was to scoop the guts out, picking out the seeds so she could roast them in the oven. I bet the house smells amazing by now, but I’d rather be here.
My jack-o'-lantern even has a little birthday hat strapped to the top; it’s only a few days away now.
The anticipation is buzzing nearly constantly in my chest, but no matter how many times I stare at the scenic landscape calendar in the kitchen, time never moves any faster.
“Are we friends, Gideon?” I ask, filling the silence.
I watch in my periphery as his head lifts off the ground to stare at me for a moment before plopping back down with a heavy thud. “I guess so.”
I frown, shifting my legs where they’re draped over his middle as we lie on the dying forest floor. It’s been months since he gave me my Krissy doll back. Months spent playing in the woods, yet I’m still not sure how Gideon feels about, well, anything really. “Do you want to be?”
There’s a long pause before he speaks. “I don’t have any other friends. They think I’m weird because I live in a funeral home.”
I giggle. “It’s not because you live in a funeral home. It’s because you are weird.”
A laugh tumbles free from my throat when he lightly pinches my leg, my Krissy doll propped up on my lap.
I’m about to jolt up, running to escape his assault, but his hand snaps out to grip my calf when I go to move off him, keeping me there, a small flush filling my face as I smooth Krissy’s hair.
Much of our time is just like this, quiet and thoughtful, until I make him play with me, which is definitely more fun, but the quiet is nice too.
It’s not nice anywhere else but with him.
“They’re going to start picking on you, Audrey.”
I scoff. “Nobody is picking on me.” Other than a few mean girls in my class, everyone is nice.
“They will, though.”
“So what?”
He takes a deep breath, shifting up on his elbows, with that odd look in his eyes. “Will it be worth it?”
“What?”
“Being my friend.”
I shoot up too, my heart kicking up to a sprint in my chest, making the forest turn on its axis. “Is that what you want then… to be best friends?” I know he didn’t specify best, but it seems like an important distinction.
“I want you to be my only friend.”
Heat flushes my cheeks now in full force as I beam down at him. “Then that’s what I want too! No matter what.”
Audrey, Nine Years Old, 1976
Mom beams at the growing crowd of kids all gathered around Dad as he tries to juggle balls from the huge bounce pad they rented.
When her eyes swing to me, I smile back, letting her think I don’t know they didn’t all just come for the games and cake.
Soon enough, my eyes are scanning the crowd again for Gideon, my chest dropping when I don’t find him.
He’ll be here. He wouldn’t miss it again.
But just like last year, we get through all the highlights without a sign of him.
My cheeks are still damp after dunking for apples, making the cool breeze feel even colder.
It’s been a staple in my birthday celebrations even before Dad could afford a big party like this.
I sway and sing along in my head when Mom leads everyone in Happy Birthday, all eyes glued to me as I lean forward, making a wish I’m then sworn to secrecy about, one I’ve made every year since Uncle Rodney died.
I keep it tucked tightly in my chest. Safekeeping it on the off-chance wishes are real, and one year it’ll come true.
The cake is really good, but I barely pay attention during pin the tail on the donkey.
Not even bouncing on the bounce pad until my legs wobble keeps my eyes from scanning the Bell Funeral Home, waiting to see the only friend I wanted to celebrate with today.
Gideon’s mom arrived home an hour ago, casting her sad eyes this way like she always does before trudging over and offering me a gift bag.
Mom says it’s like she’s always waiting for something bad to happen.
That her hovering and fussing is probably why Gideon is weird.
The growing stack of presents by the porch is calling my name, but even that seems less exciting without him.
Soon enough, people stop trying to include me.
Friend groups that were formed long before I moved here gather and play amongst themselves.
My eyes are glued to the large number eight candle discarded on a paper plate, debating licking the icing off the end, when a soft whistle jolts me.
My head slams up, my eyes canvassing everywhere until they land on Gideon, his back pressed against the far side of my house.
I try and fail to dampen my smile as I jolt off the bench, running over to him.
“Gideon! I was worried you weren’t going to come!”
“Shhh…” he hushes, his eyes darting across the street. “We've gotta be quick. Follow me.”
My tummy makes an odd flipping feeling as Gideon grips my hand, holding it tightly as he tugs me into the woods.
His palms are cool thanks to the chill in the air, but it warms mine all the same.
They look so big wrapped around mine. Immediately, I think about those daytime soaps Mom always watches, where the old people kiss and yell and cry a lot.
“Where are we going?” I whisper, despite knowing we’re far enough away by now that nobody will hear us.
Whispering just goes with sneaking; I don’t make the rules.
He doesn’t answer, just trudges along inside the wood line.
But this time, instead of taking me deeper into the thicket, we stay just hidden, following the road toward the creek bridge leading into town.
Soon enough, the bubbling sound of water breaks up the sound of our footsteps on the fallen leaves.
I groan when I realize he intends to cross it. My shoes dig into the dirt, halting him. “I don’t want to get my shoes wet. Let’s do something else.”
For a moment, I think he rolls his eyes, but that doesn’t seem like a very Gideon thing to do.
“Stop complaining, I’ll help you across.
” With only a few more grumbles, I relent.
When we reach the rocky creek bed, I can’t hide my flush in the early evening sunlight as he carefully holds my hand, helping me across each of the slippery stones just like he said he would.
That’s one of my favorite things about Gideon.
Even after a year of being his best friend, he’s always done what he says he’s going to do.
He doesn’t make empty promises. He doesn’t talk much, so the things he chooses to say matter.
There’s a purpose there. Gideon makes me feel…
special. Out of all the kids in Swindon, he chose me to be his only friend.
He’s the best friend I could ever ask for, different from the kids where I lived before, better.
His black hair hangs in his inky blue eyes as I concentrate on keeping us both upright, the wet smell of old submerged wood and leaves filling my nose.
We’re almost to the edge of the thick log, but I’m paying more attention to him than I am to my footing, and sure enough, my stomach jolts to my chest as I go down.
Gideon gasps almost loud enough to drown out my screech as his arms snap out to catch me.
It works… mostly. Only the very back of the birthday dress Mom got at JCPenney dips, making me hiss as the cold creek water drips down the back of my legs, wetting my tights.
“Great, my dress is wet. Mom is going to kill me!”
Gideon ushers us off the end of the log and turns me, grabbing the back of my dress to check the damage. “It’s just the back. We can dry it at my house. She won’t know.”
This time, I stop for real, not playfully, as he tries to tug me with him. “We’re going to your house?”
“Yeah, it’s where my birthday present for you is.”
My eyes slam to sparkly shoes, the toes of them splattered with broken-up leaves and mud. Mom said they didn’t match and kicked up a real fuss when I refused to wear anything else until Dad stepped in. “Can’t you just… bring it out to me?”
“My house isn’t haunted, Audrey.”
My head slams up, embarrassment making my chest swap from cold and unsure to scalding, indignant. “I didn’t think that!”
“Then why won’t you come in?”
I shrug, fiddling with my white tights, trying to unstick the backs of them to my legs.
“It just doesn’t make sense. Why didn’t you just bring it to my party?
You didn’t even come sing happy birthday to me.
Again.” Last year we’d spent the day in our special place, but when it was time for the party, that one small and private, his mom had dropped off a gift saying he was busy.
I cried.
“I haven’t been home all day. I didn’t have it with me.”
I glance up at the small bridge above the creek, debating just turning around when his words finally click. “Wait, where have you been?”
He just gestures to the woods.
“All day? Doing what?”
His eyes dart back toward my house, but he doesn’t answer.
A few more moments pass with us just standing on the other side of the creek before I realize he’s just fine waiting here all night until I do what he wants.
And he would. We’d both die out here in a battle of wills; that’s how suborn he is.
Where Gideon always seems to have no issue waiting around until he gets the result he’s looking for, I hate waiting.
“Fine, but I don’t want to go anywhere near the bodies! ”
This time, I’m sure he rolls his eyes. “I don’t live in the morgue,” he offers, tugging me down the long, looping trail to his house. I don’t bother asking why we didn’t just cross the street, already guessing the answer: his mom is weird about friends coming over.