Feathermore

My dad’s deep voice reached into my dreams. “Good morning, princess!” he said, stroking the hair out of my face and kissing my forehead.

  “Thanks, Dad.” My morning voice sounded thin and a little gravelly, but remembering it was my birthday made me jump up in bed. As I staggered onto my feet I gave him a tight hug, letting myself get lost in his scent of Axe deodorant and aftershave. I looked up at him. “How come you’re not at work?”

  “It’s my little girl’s birthday—how could I miss that? Come on, kiddo, get dressed and come downstairs—breakfast is ready,” he said as he walked out of my room.

  “I love you, Dad!” I called after him.

  Mom had bought me some new outfits a couple of days ago, but I couldn’t touch anything until today. I slipped into the new Ramones white shirt with the black long sleeves, the new jeans, and black boots. Then I gave the front of my hair some loose curls, adding some volume so it wouldn’t just hang lank, and went downstairs.

  Mom was at the stove, flipping pancakes. The smell of bacon made my stomach growl like a hungry house cat. For as long as I could remember, this had been my “birthday breakfast of champions.” I wrapped my arm around Mom’s shoulders and gave her a kiss, then headed for my stool at the island, next to Dad.

  “Happy birthday, honey,” she said, greeting me out of the corner of her eye. “I see you couldn’t keep your hands off your new clothes.”

  “Hah!” I said. “It was torture not getting to wear them before now!”

  Minutes after she brought us our breakfast, I had inhaled mine. Taking the plate to the sink, I looked over at the clock that hung above the refrigerator. “Claire was supposed to pick me up . . .”

  “Oh, she called earlier,” Mom said. “Something came up and she can’t make it. But anyway, your dad and I’ve been talking, and . . .” She had that crooked grin that made her look like a kid herself. “You can have Dad’s pickup truck.”

  I gaped at them both in disbelief. “You’re really giving me the truck?” I squealed. “It’s mine?”

  Dad held up his hands and said, “It’s old, and we figured, how much damage could you do?” He paused, grinning. “Maybe I’d better reword that—forgot who I was talking to.” He was attached to that old beater. He had taken Mom on their first date in it, way back when you could tell what color it was. But he needn’t worry—I would treat it like a family heirloom.

  I rushed outside and rolled down the windows. I shouldn’t be this excited about a three-block drive, but it was pretty cool. With the windows down, I let the rock-and-roll station blast, driving slowly because I didn’t want to get there too quickly. Hallelujah—I wasn’t Miss Daisy anymore!

  Avan was waiting next to his car, motioning for me to take the empty space he seemed to have been saving for me. Once I shut off the engine, he walked around and waited for me to get out. His smoldering blue eyes were making me weak as his fingertips on the small of my back pulled me closer to him. The moment our bodies touched, I felt that inexplicable current of energy. He moved his free hand onto my cheek and kissed me. It was the subtlest kiss I ever experienced, but with a triple charge of passion. “Happy birthday, babe,” he said, low enough that only I could barely hear him.

  “Thanks,” I said, a little out of breath. Avan put his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the school doors. This was already a promising day!