I finally shared my secret — and she betrayed me

I look at my watch and see that there are five minutes left till the end of recess. And because it’s my birthday and I’m feeling brave, I don’t go up the stairs toward my classroom. Swarms of girls flow around me as I walk against the tide to the facilities.

There’s always a group of girls hanging around the mirrors, chatting casually, playing with time and the teacher’s potential wrath. I’m a good girl and an obedient student — I don’t come late to class, don’t even cut it close. But today is my birthday, and really, it’s not so much that I’m feeling brave, it’s that I’m trying not to feel anything at all.

I push the door open and catch a shriek of laughter. Five girls clustered around some pictures. I hesitate, wondering if I should pretend that I’m in here to wash my face. But just then the bell rings, its incessant peal a call to duty that I don’t want to reply to right now, so I lean on a sink and wait for a break in the conversation.

But that conversation dies — three girls make a dash for it as the last echo of the bell fades. I’m disappointed. I was hoping for some distraction because I’m scared of the noise my mind might make if it’s too quiet around me. Geography isn’t interesting enough to keep the buzzing low.

A girl from the grade above me gives one last pat to her hair and casually strolls out, probably relying on past luck to get into her classroom.

And then it’s just me. And Shira, my classmate and friend… and partner in crime?

“Not like you to skip class,” she says.

I force a laugh. “Hey, it’s my birthday! I’m allowed to cut class once a year, no?”

“Heeeeey, that’s so cool! Doing anything special?”

“Yeah, we had a barbecue last night,” I go into details, trying to make it sound interesting and fun, but suddenly I’m thinking of the things I want to tell her. It’s my birthday and I turned into a teenager and my mother wasn’t there.

Not exactly.

It’s my birthday and my mother doesn’t live at home and I don’t really understand why and actually, I don’t want to think about this right now.

Still not good enough.

On birthdays mothers should be at home making a party, not sending cards in the mail because they’re not mentally capable of being there.