RoseBlood

Make A Wish

The laughter of guests, the clinking of glasses and eager conversations are a muffled buzz from where I am upstairs, in my room with the door closed, Mia sat opposite me on my bed as we talk about school and books. I consider telling her about The Case of Paranoia, but hold my tongue.

If you think you might talk yourself into a trap, keep your trap shut. You read that somewhere.

I'd also tried subtly asking Mum about it earlier, but with all the arrangements and people arriving, she wasn't focused, eventually shoving a dozen plates in my hands and exclaiming, "Make yourself useful and lay these out, alright? Let's talk later."

Define later, Mum.

Still, I manage to add a few helpful notes to the book from what she distractedly mentioned.

What I Know: Judith Cassia said that a hooded guest at the gathering walked past her with a glare when they caught each other's eye briefly. She dismisses the idea of being followed after the party.

Explanations: Judith doesn't appear to be as affected as her husband by the subject, brushing it off with ease. This could suggest a lack of guilt, or none at all.

"I've got big news, too," Mia continues, cutting into my thoughts. "I applied for Oxford University to do English Lit and Language, and I got in!"

I smile, nodding encouragingly. "That's great, Mia. Well done you."

And it is great. Great that she's going far and she's got an amazing opportunity. And great in the sarcastic sense of losing a friend who isn't annoying and doesn't yawn at the sight of anything over a few pages long.

"Thing is, it's quite a few hours away from this place," Mia points out with a small smile. "But we'll keep in touch, right?"

"Of course," I agree. "I've got your number, you've got mine. I hope it all works out well for you."

Then the door flings open and Mum stands there, looking between us incredulously.

"Come on, girls!" She urges with a little too much excitement for Mia's sake, waving her hands about frantically. "Lizzie's bringing the cake out."

Mia jumps up and follows her downstairs with me close behind, giving as big a smile as I can manage to the wide ones of workmates and clients I don't really know. A few girls my age are there too, and they return my smile awkwardly. I notice Lorraine and Paul Jones, a couple in their mid-forties who were some of the first proper clients Mum and Dad met. They're nice enough, what with Paul commending me for my reading and telling me repeatedly how 'books are better than screens any day, you're an educated young lady and you'll do just fine in life.'

I better.

Lizzie backs out steadily from the kitchen with a concentrated expression, a cake in her hands shaped like a massive brown book, a sugary blue bookmark trailing out from its middle, my name written in gold icing at the top, candles spaced evenly at its outline. Assorted hums of acknowledgement and admiration sound, and my smile grows. Lizzie should be on the Great British Bake Off, no lie.

"Happy birthday to you..."

Everyone starts singing then, and I try not to roll my eyes at the childishness of the whole thing, smiling uncomfortably anyway, a few people taking photos of the cake, iPhones hovering for a few moments. Mum comes over and weaves between guests to get to the front, hissing as subtly as she can for Dad to join her. He appears after a moment, and I frown at his flustered expression, one that aches to say something but holds it back even so.

"Make a wish, Holls," Mia says with glee, capturing my attention, and I don't stop myself from rolling my eyes this time, smiling and closing my eyes for a drawn-out moment.