I wake up in a panic to find myself being suffocated by a tongue licking all the sides of my face. I am covered in a gratuitous amount of slobber. When I finally will myself to open my eyes, Fry is wagging his tail happily as he pounces around my bed. He gives me an extra share of birthday kisses once I begin to acknowledge him through gentle pats. My mother is in the corner, laughing to herself, and while I giggle from Fry's celebratory kisses, a glance at my clock reveals it's only eight in the morning. On my first day off. So much for sleeping in.

"There's some waffles downstairs. I have to head off to work, but we'll all go out to celebrate tonight," my mother says as I shoo Fry off my bed. Wiping the slobber from my face, I nod and slowly stretch.

Seventeen years old, huh? I don't feel different, though I certainly like the sound of seventeen better than sixteen.

When I make my way downstairs after scrubbing the slobber off my face, Oliver is the only other one sitting at the kitchen table. He sits at the table with a plate of waffles, which he happily digs into.

"You know, those were for me," I say.

He rolls his eyes. "There's more than a dozen of them on the counter. Mom said they're for all of us."

I grab a plate for myself and take a seat across from him. I swirl generous amounts of maple syrup around the waffles and munch on a slice of crispy bacon that my mother specially prepared.

"Happy birthday, Callie," Oliver says at last.

I thank him and watch as my phone begins to light up with texts from my friends and distant family members.

"Well, you're popular," Oliver teases.

Getting the texts makes me feel warm inside, though I'm a bit disappointed I won't get to see any of my friends today. Most are out of town for the break, leaving me to enjoy my siblings' company. At least I'll get to have a nice meal tonight at my favorite sushi restaurant. My mother made the reservation weeks in advance. It's all I've been looking forward to for the past few days.

Olivia doesn't make her way down the stairs until an hour later, when I'm busy cleaning dishes. I can't imagine that seventh grade requires so much sleep, though she seems exhausted as she pours a glass of orange juice for herself. At the sight of fresh waffles, her eyes light up.

"They're not warm anymore. You'd have to heat them up," I warn.

"Aren't you going to wish Callie a happy birthday?" Oliver questions when my sister merely grumbles and starts rummaging through the cabinets.

"Oh. Right. Happy birthday, sis. You know what they say. Seventeen and the dancing queen and all that," Olivia says as she stands in front of the microwave, watching her plate of waffles spin round and round without a care in the world.

"Gee, thanks," I mutter.

"Are you hanging out with friends today?" Olivia asks.

"No. They're all out of town," I answer.

"She wants a ride to the mall," Oliver whispers quietly to me.

"I mean—if you were going to the mall, then I was going to ask to tag along," Olivia says. "A few of my friends are going. To hang out. Well, also because a few boys from our class were talking about going the same day. Not that we planned that—"

"I don't want to spend my birthday babysitting you," I grumble.

"You don't have to watch me! You can do your own birthday shopping or whatever," Olivia begs.

"No."

"Aw, c'mon, Callie? You're not going to do anything with your car today? When I'm sixteen, I'm going to drive everywhere. Go to the mall every weekend. See movies all the time. Your life is so boring. You don't even have a boyfriend, and you're over halfway through high school," Olivia complains.

"Hey," Oliver warns.

Olivia's comments don't seem to bother me much anymore. I've grown quite numb to them. So instead of replying, I quietly put the dishes in the dishwasher and let out a sigh. As a child, I got along the best I could with my siblings. They mostly fought between each other when we were younger, though there were a few times my mother had to break up fights between all three of us.

It's no surprise I get along with Oliver better these days. He and Olivia are vastly approaching thirteen at the end of December, and Olivia already acts like the stuck-up teenager that I don't even remember myself being. But perhaps that's because as the youngest, she can get away with more than I did.

I feel my phone vibrate in the back of my pocket. Another birthday text, I'm assuming. When I pull it out, I instead see a text that surprises me. A birthday text from Aurora. It's just a simple happy birthday message, but she at least puts the balloon effect on her text message, creating a vibrant celebratory message. I smile quietly to myself.

"Who texted you?" Olivia asks, peeking up toward me.

"A friend. I'm not going to the mall today, Olivia. It's raining out, and plus, Fry is going to be lonely if I don't stay home with him," I say, watching my Golden's head pop up when I mention his name.

Olivia sulks off, though even if she complains to Mom or Dad, I'm ninety-nine percent certain they'll take my side.

"Sorry she's acting like that," Oliver murmurs once she leaves the room.

"She's acting the same as normal," I say with a shrug.

"She didn't have to make that dating comment though," Oliver says.

"It's fine. It doesn't bother me," I tell him before he heads off to his room. I stay downstairs, watching T.V. and occasionally playing with Fry before the weight of Olivia's comment begins to set in now that I am alone. Why haven't I begun dating yet? I'm already halfway through high school, and at this rate, I'll have no relationship experience going into college, right when I'll need it the most. I usually brush these thoughts off and account it to my busy schedule, the fact that boys are far and few in between, but lately—no, not lately—for a while now, I think something might be wrong with me.

Not wanting to spend my birthday stressing about such menial thoughts, I go about my day, occasionally thinking of Aurora's text. It's my favorite text I've gotten so far, but I can't deny my heart also sunk when I first saw it. What did I expect? An invitation to hang out? We're both busy, and even if we're a few blocks away, it would be rude to intrude on her Thanksgiving break.

When my mother comes home in the evening, she has a sour look on her face.

"I'm all ready to eat some rolls at Sora Sushi," I tell my mother as soon as she steps in. I've even dressed up, with just some black pants and a sweater, as it's been a while since the family has gone out to eat. Noticing my mother's vacant expression, I frown. "What's wrong? Was our reservation cancelled?"

"No. Your father had to stay late. He doesn't think he'll make it. I'm sorry," my mother says as she sets her things down.

I frown. I'm not upset with my father. I understand his work is busy, but I had been planning for a night of family fun, not a night of my mother scolding me and my siblings while I pick at my sushi.

"Oh. That's okay," I say, hiding my disappointment that my father will not be joining us.

"We do have an extra seat. Maybe you can invite a friend?"

Automatically, I shake my head. "They're all out of town."

"You don't know anyone staying here?"

I do know of one, but I keep my mouth shut. No. That would be a ridiculous option. And even though the thought crosses my mind, another part of myself tells me I'm not allowed to ask her, to even suggest the matter.

"No. No one else. It's okay, really," I say.

My mother looks relieved that I seem not to care, and she heads upstairs to change out of her work clothes. I give Fry a few scratches before the family heads out, though it's certainly not as lively as I normally expect my birthday celebrations to be. Olivia is still sulking over the fact I refused to take her to the mall, Oliver is quiet, as usual, and my mother keeps on questioning why we all seem to be silently frustrated with each other.

The restaurant is bustling and lively, however, even with an empty seat at the table. The waiters are made aware it's my birthday, and they even bring me some free appetizers. Dinner, for the most part, is lowkey. My mother keeps her usual nagging to a minimum for my sake, Olivia manages to break free from her sulking, and Oliver even throws in a few jokes. I admit it would be more fun if Dad were here, but I enjoy my meal of sushi all the same and even get some to enjoy some tempura icecream for dessert.

We open gifts at home, where my father finals joins us.

"So sorry I had to miss, Cal. We'll go again soon," he says.

I nod and say it's okay while we transition to opening presents. It's just a small mix of clothes, jewelry, and some gift cards, but I thank my family all the same.

"And tomorrow, there should be more of that," my mother says, referring to Thanksgiving. I'm used to receiving a few gifts on Thanksgiving since my birthday is near the holiday. But just the thought of seeing the extended family tomorrow, answering all of their questions, causes a shudder to run down my back.

»»---------------------►

I lean my hand against my chin and stare out the window as we drive away from our home on Thanksgiving evening. The excess amount of perfume Olivia put on is already making me nauseous, though I suppose I couldn't have told her much better. I don't normally wear perfume. Even tonight, it took all the will inside me to just put a bit of make-up on, while Olivia has gone full-clown on her face. I quickly glance over at Oliver in his nice top and pants. Sometimes I wish girls had as easy dress codes as boys.

As we drive away, I see my gaze lingering to the street Aurora lives on. Is she celebrating dinner at her house? No. Probably somewhere farther away, I think.

Our drive is only a half hour to my grandparents' home, but with Oliver squeezed between me and Olivia, as well as my father's crackly singing to the Christmas music on the radio, I wonder if the drive could possibly be any shorter. It doesn't help that I've been in a sour mood all day. While the thought of delicious food slightly lifts my spirits, I remember once again of all the extended family I'll be forced to see and converse with. Olivia and Oliver don't get the same questions I do, probably because all the conversation around them stems from simple questions, such as where they're going to high school, what their favorite school subject is, and if they've gotten good grades this semester.

I can hear the cacophony of chatter before I even enter my grandparents' home. Their home is a  simple one-story, which means people are frequently cluttered, the air is hot, and there's no corner for me to hide in like Homecoming. I can only hide in the bathroom for a few minutes most likely before someone will knock on the door and I'll feel embarrassed. I can feel my anxiety building just as my grandmother takes my coat. She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leads me to the group of people. The questions are inevitable from there.

"Have you thought about what colleges you'd like to go to, Callie?"

"What major do you plan to pursue? That one? What job do you plan to get after college, then?"

"Do you have a boyfriend yet, Callie? Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be without one."

Again and again these questions circulate, and I'm only freed when the meal starts. But even then, I have to stare down, practically drooling at my food, as we give generic responses to the question, "What are you thankful for?" followed by a proper Catholic grace, of course.

Thankfully, after a large dinner and dessert, everyone is too full to push me any more for answers. Instead, I am forced to entertain the younger cousins, though even then, Oliver and Olivia get along with them better than me. Apparently I'm not good in conversation with either adults or children.

It is with great relief that we leave that evening, our stomachs full and all of us half-asleep. As soon as I get home, I give Fry a few pats, then head upstairs and collapse in bed. Another uneventful Thanksgiving, but also another year free of the same questions I hate to answer. Though my break is already dwindling to a close, I clutch my covers and almost pray I can go back to school sooner. I'm getting tired of having no routine.