Time skip till his 16th birthday

It was my birthday today. I was 16. 

I woke up at 7:05 this morning and felt no need to get out of the bed. 

Mom had probably already gone to work, which meant Eve was gone to daycare, too. She was 4 now, we'd celebrated her birthday two weeks ago, taking her to the zoo. 

I got up to get dressed, but before I could make it to my closet, my phone started ringing. 

I was surprised, thinking it was my mother. We hadn't talked in 7 months, since she told Clay about my behaviors. 

I hadn't expected her to acknowledge my birthday, but I was almost happy that she would. 

However, it wasn't my mother who was calling, it was Clay. 

"Clay, what are you doing up? It's like, 2 in the morning over there." I say, smiling when I pick up. 

"Dude, I woke up at midnight and have been calling you every hour to wish you a happy birthday. So happy birthday, George! You're 16! You're old like me!" Clay sounded tired, and I giggled at his dedication, my cheeks burning. He was so stupid sometimes. 

"Thank you, Clay. But you need to get to bed." I say. 

"Yeah, okay." he says. "Goodnight. Have a happy birthday. Talk to the people around you today for me? Tell them it's your birthday. You deserve to be celebrated." With that, he ends the call. 

I sigh, putting on a dark blue hoodie and some black jeans to go to school. No colors. 

I walked to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Cutting my wrists. 

After I was done in the bathroom, I walked past the kitchen and out the front door. I was too fat. 

I drove to school in silence, just like I always did. 

As I walked into the building, a tall boy walked up to me. I recognized him as Dean Grey. He was in most of my classes. He was a conceited jock. 

"Hey, you're George, right?" He had most classes with me. The question was stupidly rhetorical. I nod anyway, continuing to walk. 

"Could I get your number? I think you're pretty cute and would like to take you on a date sometime." Dean says. 

I shake my head, continuing to walk. No one could be trusted. Not after the party. 

I tried not to let my trauma from that week get to me, but I still felt disgusting and talked down on myself whenever possible. 

Still, no one knew about it. 

I walk to my locker where Wilbur was waiting for me with Eret, who I'd learned was blind. They waited for me here every day, Wilbur talking to me and trying to get me to talk back and Eret offering smiles here and there. 

"Hey, George. What's up?" Wilbur rays as I approach. He asks me this every day, trying to get me to speak. I usually shrug and give a noncommittal grunt and he drops it. Today, I'd more or less made a promise to Clay. 

"I'm fine." I mumble. "It's my birthday." 

Wilbur grins. "Happy birthday, dude! Holy shit! You're 16 now, right?" I nod and try to offer a small smile. 

He gives me a hug, which I wriggle out of right away, uncomfortable after Aiden more or less forced himself onto me at the party. 

Wilbur didnt notice my discomfort, but I saw Eret's wide smile drop at it. 

The taller did, however release me from the embrace as soon as he realized I didnt accept it. 

"Well, I'm glad I decided on today to get you a present, then." Wilbur says, pulling a blue plush out of his locker. 

It had eyes on it, but no mouth. 

"This is for you. You always seem so sad all the time, and you don't talk much, but I want you to have this so that whenever you feel sad or alone, you know that me, Eret, and even Tommy are here for you, even if you don't consider us your friends." Wilbur says.

I smile and look into his playful eyes, "Thank you, Wilbur." I say. "I do consider you guys my friends." 

He smiles and we falls into a step beside me as we walk to class. 

"What are you going to name it?" the taller asks. 

"Blue. Because it's blue, obviously, but also because knowing that I'm not alone takes all the blue away from me." 

By the time I get home, I know my mother isn't going to acknowledge my birthday. I got a text saying that she needed to stay at work late that day and that Eve was staying at a friend's for the night. 

It was the first form of communication I'd received from my mother in 7 months, and it wasn't any acknowledgement of me being a person. 

My spirits were immediately lifted, however, along with the tides of happy tears that welled up in my eyes as I saw a package on my porch from Clay with a 'Happy Birthday' written on the side in his chicken scratch penmanship.