Three years after the tragic passing of her mother, Elody's father relocates the two of them from a small town in Virginia to the seaside city of San Serrano, California, finally ready for a clean slate. But being the girl on financial support in a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CELEBRATING MY SEVENTEENTH BIRTHDAY in a beach house on the Golden Coast would've sounded idyllic to many, but as I stood in front of the flickering candles, I could barely muster a proper smile.
The sound of Frank Sinatra crackling on vinyl could be heard in the background faintly, coming from the vintage Crosley in the hutch across the room, as Aunt Cecilia and Dad gazed at me imploringly. Wanting to oblige them, I squeezed my eyes shut, pretending to make a wish, before leaning down to blow out the flames, causing tendrils of smoke to waft into the air. The two of them cheered, Dad reaching his arm around my shoulders to give me a side-hug, and I fixed the pair with another wobbly smile, before my eyes wandered to the window, and the unfamiliar oceanfront scene outside of it.
There was no denying it was beautiful. Aunt Cecilia's sprawling three storey home was a hop, skip, and a jump away from the sea, the lapping of the waves audible from almost anywhere in the house, and the position of the sun in the sky made the vast blue glitter like one of the many diamonds in her jewelery box. The constant California heat was something that would still take a lot of adjusting; it felt like I had sweat more than should be humanly possible in the three weeks since we'd moved to San Serrano. At first, I'd told myself it was only a vacation. That soon, Dad and I would go back to Stone Lake and resume life as normal.
But as the weeks faded into each other, it became more and more apparent that it wasn't true. This was home now, no matter how little it felt like it.
"Happy birthday, dear," Aunt Cecilia said, smiling as she used a knife to slice into the elegant, fondant-covered cake she'd ordered from Délice, the expensive bakery in San Serrano's bustling interior. When her dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she looked a lot like Mom, despite their seven year age gap. My eyes lingered on her profile for several beats until I heard my dad's voice.
"What'd you wish for, El?" he asked, grinning crookedly, and causing the freckles on his nose to crinkle slightly. I'd always been grateful he passed them down to me, though I definitely favored my mother more—from the warm, golden brown skin to the wild sprigs of dark, curly hair, I was practically the spitting image of her teenage years.
It took a moment for me to process the question. I didn't have the heart to tell him I hadn't made a real birthday wish since I turned thirteen. Offhandedly, I could think of a few minor things that would make decent wishes; a bike, a new backpack so I could upgrade from the shabby one I'd had since ninth grade, a potter's wheel. Not moving to a new city in the summer, leaving me with no friends to hang out with on my birthday.
But there was only one thing I truly wanted, and not even a thousand candles would ever be able to make it come to life.
Instead, I gave him a wry look, pressing my lips together and nudging his arm with my elbow. "Come on, Dad," I scolded. "You know the rules. If I tell you, it won't come true."
