. Prologue .
An Anchor of Cakes

When I turned three, I had Inspector Gadget on my birthday cake. He was flying in the center of the rectangular marble cake on half an inch of smooth white icing with his Gadget Copter popping out of his hat, the wish of a happy birthday written in loopy blue swoops in an arch over him. Of course, my parents were kind of thrown off when I asked for it, trying to talk me into a Barbie Birthday scene or a bunch of colorful flowers, but I refused. I made it clear that it was either the star of my then favorite cartoon or the Jurassic Park logo, so they took the image of what they viewed to be less masculine and ordered it for my party.

My mom and aunt still kept their sibling rivalry alive through me and my cousin Leslie who is four days younger than I, seeing who can throw the better party for their daughter. Well, so what if Leslie had Aladdin and Jasmine’s magic carpet ride pose on her cake and a whole party theme to match it? Inspector Gadget and dinosaurs were just as exciting, even though I did like Leslie’s cake a lot. Jasmine came in close second to Ariel on my favorite Disney Princesses’ list at the time.

Since then, I’ve not only been able to succeed in getting weird reactions from everyone on my birthday cake picture and flavor choices (I am probably the only person I know that enjoys marble cake), but I can remember every picture on every cake from every birthday since I was born. I cheated on the first two years by looking at photographs, Baby Mickey and Minnie Mouse being on my first cake and an icing version of Big Bird on the second.

But from memory, I can recall all the birthday cake pictures and designs from the age of three, from Inspector Gadget and his Go Go Gadget Copter, to the Pocahontas figurine on my seventh, to the Guys and Dolls logo on the most recent eighteenth birthday cake.

On the night I blew out all of those candles on the eighteenth March 1st of my life, I was the head student director of my high school’s annual musical, a senior, and cheering along with everyone after a successful opening night show. The director of it all and my beloved chorus teacher, Mr. Millischetto, led me to the cafeteria with all 108 cast and crew members following faithfully to the surprise party I had never thought I’d ever receive from anyone in my life.

When the lights went up in the vast cafeteria decorated with the show’s red, gold, black, and white gambling themed colors, I felt my vision spot and grew dizzy with delight. Hand over my heart, I began to laugh as Mr. M put a hand behind my back just in case the odds of me fainting turned even more favorable.

“Well, it’s not much,” he said with a teasing smile.

My laugh sounded very unattractive, like a very unfeminine snort at the understatement. “You’re right; doesn’t look like much at all!”

A buffet two lunch tables long was filled with food on the far end of the cafeteria with single lunch tables lined up with enough chairs to accommodate everyone. Red, black, and gold balloons filled the high ceiling over the area up front cleared out for dancing, our tech director already blasting music from speakers twice his size that were connected to his laptop. Streamers and decorations of the same colors lined the tables, pillars, and walls, and the biggest birthday cake I had ever had was rolled up to me on a cart by the four leads in the show as everyone surrounded me quickly with excited chatter.

I smiled over at Mr. M the moment the beautiful glow of the candles illuminated my face. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life; I had never felt so appreciated by so many people, let alone all at one time and in one place. My heart was erupting with happiness I can say I have never experienced before or since, and part of me broke down at this, so touched by the love and care radiating from all of these people that my eyes lined with watery tears of elation.

“Oh my God, she hates it!” Paul Bartomey, our Nathan Detroit, laughed from my right. The talented pianist smiled around at everyone with his thumb jabbing in my direction, “Look at this, she’s crying!”

“No, no, this is amazing,” I laughed with unmistakable sincerity, wiping my runny mascara away as Mr. M put his arm around my shoulders. I sniffed and looked over at him, his short build making me eye level with the man I considered my second father after only two years of acquaintance. “You guys are ridiculous! How did you do this?” I asked him. “Who’s idea was it? When?”

Mr. M’s proud smile made me hold him accountable with the responsibility automatically.

“Just you?”

“No, everyone was involved,” he announced by acknowledging the large semi circle before us grinning as a whole. Lila and Natalie, still half-dressed in their Miss Adelaide and Sarah Brown costumes, came around from behind us then, unrolling a long piece of yellow paper.

“Everyone,” Natalie emphasized, holding one end of the scroll as Lila came to a stop six feet away with the other end. My face registered the purest expression of astonishment capable of being contained by a human being.

Lila giggled at my reaction and said, “They had to be if they signed your card. Or, it’s more of a banner.”

I was overwhelmed. The center was filled with an oversized ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!,’ the rest of it covered in colorful signatures and birthday wishes by each and every person in my presence. As their whoops and hollers further induced the feeling of all of us being on top of the world, Mr. M shook my shoulders again as a reminder that what was happening to me was real though it did not seem like it. I kept thinking that it had to be someone else’s birthday and not mine. There was mistake, but it was the best mistake ever made if that was the case.

“All right, time to sing to the birthday girl.”

I looked up at the doorway and dissolved into an embarrassed fit of laughter. Todd Patton, the fair-faced desire of half the school, came strutting up to me looking ever handsome in costume, flashing me that irresistible smile of charm and mischief I swear to this day secured him the role of Sky Masterson aside from his superior tenor range. The students laughed raucously as he glided up to me with arms outstretched in his clean-pressed grey suit and matching Roaring 20’s hat, a silken pink tie unexpectedly pulling the look together complimentarily.

My body quaked treacherously, and my eyes did that stupid goo-goo thing I swore I’d never let them do in my life. I was cursing myself for it, clamming up, and involuntarily allowing my cheeks to flare with the heat of a girlish crush I was far too old for. I wanted to run in the other direction as Mr. M stepped back, leaving Todd to take my racing heart while simultaneously taking my hand in his. Thankful that my humiliating smile could be seen by everyone else differently than it was to be taken for given the occasion, I didn’t fight it off right away. I let myself enjoy the cover and turn towards Todd when his other hand slid to my lower back.

I met his eyes daringly. I became wobbly and woozy as I knew I would, but it was worth every fleck of blue surrounding his large pupils that shared the soft candlelight coming from my cake.

I saw a little secret in them reserved just for me, a fleeting, invisible wink no one but I could see, and I stepped closer to him and gently grasped his jacket just in case I couldn’t handle it and my knees buckled out from under me. Then, Todd spared me and looked out at everyone, his steady voice singing the first line of the song over us all like a smooth but striking caress.

“Happy birthday to you…”

At that, a hundred more voices joined in. Todd looked right back at me and continued to sing while I just stood there like a speechless fool with the grin to match the title. Unable to withstand another second under his soft but piercing gaze, I pretended to admire my cake as if he was having no effect on me whatsoever. I actually stared at it half a moment longer than I meant to when the song ended. Then, when my brain was snagged by the absence of 108 singing voices, I jolted out of my trance and took a deep breath before I could even think of a wish, congratulated by more cheers when I blew out all of the candles.

“Hey! She did it!” Mr. M laughed, as if he had doubted my ability to sustain a breath over a whole sheet of cake. I gave him a knowing smile passed Todd.

“Of course I did it,” I said with some sass that made Todd and Paul exchange an amused glance. I added confidently, “I do it every year.”

The volume of the music suddenly blasted throughout the cafeteria after that, and all of us made sounds of either shocked or eager surprise. Some people immediately ran over to the dance floor as a way to officially declare the party started while my closest friends in the show helped wheel the cake back to the buffet.

“All right! Everyone? Hey, listen up!” Mr. M shouted over the outburst of chatter. They silenced even if they didn’t look his way, and I tried to unsuccessfully ignore the hole burning in my back where Todd’s hand had become comfortable to listen. “Hey, help yourself to the food, drinks are in the cooler at the end of the table, and if you want some cake, Mrs. Nerry and Mrs. Gibson will be back there cutting it and serving ice cream.” He looked at me and asked, “Are you hungry? We got pizza back there, sandwiches, there’s some cookies, I think hot wings-“

“God, you guys went through a lot of trouble,” I laughed, looking between him and Todd’s patient smile.

“But it’s your birthday,” he said as the three of us followed everyone back to the food. He lowered his voice as if telling me a secret. “If you wanna be first in line, you’re allowed, you know.”

“That’s fine,” I said dismissively at the offer. “I’m not in that much of a hurry to eat yet. I’ll wait for a few minutes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, let them eat cake,” I said, waving my hand at the group. I pushed my long black sleeves up near my elbows as we got in line, just then remembering that my hair was in a ponytail. I hate having people see me with a ponytail, especially after my horrific seventh grade yearbook picture, so I pulled it out and let my brown layers fall free around my shoulders with a relaxed sigh. “There. Much better.”

Eww, I think I’m even sweating! With Todd and Mr. M right beside me, too!

I prayed that it wouldn’t be that noticeable when Todd jolted me with a poke in the back with his thumb. I whipped around to his eye-pleasing features, and he gave me a smug, innocent grin of a young boy.

“So what did you wish for?”

Nothing.

But I wasn’t about to admit to it by claiming that he had me too distracted to think.

I nudged him slyly. “I can’t tell you,” I recited from years past with a tease in the learned verbatim of my mom. “It won’t come true.”

He gave me that grin that told me he wasn’t buying it but that he’d decide to humor me just because it was my birthday which slightly irked me the wrong way, but then he started talking again and I forgot about it instantly.

“Can I guess in Twenty Questions?”

Mr. M chuckled. “The line’s long enough,” he said with undertone of suggestion to the two of us. My face went scarlet again, even deeper when I realized Mr. M had seen it happen. The smile of denial appeared on my face, and I tried to pass it off as casual to Todd.

“I’m not telling you,” I said, knowing by now Mr. M was already drawing his own conclusions about my nonexistent wish the way I sometimes still drew hearts in the margins of my French homework when my mind wandered towards the very person standing beside me.

I saw Todd give Mr. M a smile, that smile guys give each other when they think they’ve interpreted a girl’s words correctly and have it all figured out, and it gave me another little defensive rise. I looked over at Mr. M with my eyebrows pinched together, but Todd abruptly pulled on my hand and started walking away from the line, taking me with him. I was confused.

“Come on.”

“Wh-? What are we doing?”

I inwardly gasped. I said ‘we!’

“Where are you taking me?” I quickly used as my follow-up.

“We’re gonna go dance, silly,” he said, still making brief eye contact with my chorus teacher over my head. “We can wait for the line to go down. And I want the first dance with the birthday girl.”

I huffed dramatically, knowing that he feeds off the behavior like a fish approaching a shiny lure. “Oh! So you won’t even ask me? Just drag me around without my permission?”

He stopped mid-step and looked back at me wide-eyed, his confusion transitioning when he hones into my eyes and becomes aware of my game. I was losing the fight to uphold the challenge with my chin in the air against his clever smile. This smart fish sees the hook amongst the lure, but he bites anyway.

“Wanna dance?”

I led him to think that I might just say ‘no’ for a whole five seconds when we both very well know that the grin stretching from cheek to cheek on my face has already accepted. I shrugged and feigned a sigh of reluctance, holding up my hand that he’s already got enveloped in his own.

“Yeah, sure.”

Todd pumped his free hand with a self-celebratory ‘Yes!’ that made me laugh. I wondered for half a second what Mr. M was thinking about us in our absence, perhaps taking advantage of watching us with my back turned to him.

The two of us walked over to the area cleared for dancing, right up to our tech director Mike. I cast Todd a look until he shouted over the powerful waves of music something I couldn’t really hear. I saw Mike nod and go back to his laptop, Todd grinning at me with something up his sleeve as he pulls me into the middle of the floor.

“What are you doing?” I yelled just before the first song of the night started to fade out. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he didn’t hear me. “What’s happening?” I asked a little closer to his ear he had positioned towards me.

Without a word, he put his arms around me, and I smiled helplessly at how he chose to answer me. The next song began and brought us closer together for the music and atmosphere to drive us into an instinctive sway. We were lost somewhere in the crowd of our cast and crew members from the show but didn’t look that far beyond the other’s face. He suddenly started to laugh.

Oh God, what’d I do?

“What?” I asked immediately, ready to but more space between us if he wanted it. My nerves wouldn’t have minded.

He glanced over at Mike. “This song is ancient.”

The song?

Linger. By The Cranberries.

It’s not that old. It’s still a good song.

I laughed with relief in knowing I wasn’t the source of his momentarily snide amusement.

“But it serves its purpose,” I said, feeling absolutely enthralled at that moment.

He smiled so perfectly at me, so content and warm. It was infectious.

“Good.”

I took a moment to recover, looking around at everyone at the same time he did. By the time we were in a fierce eye lock again, my tongue found some words to trip over.

“I just can’t believe how much everyone went through for me,” I said, still genuinely stunned by everything that had happened to me. “The cake, the singing, the scroll…”

“That thing is huge!”

“I know! I’m going to get it laminated and keep it forever because it just makes the whole day worth it.”

He gave me a fond look I wasn’t too sure how to respond to. “Yeah,” he practically whispered, eyes grazing over my face slowly. I swallowed nervously and forced my lips to keep moving despite my sudden lapse of brain-mouth coordination.

“And then this!” I continued, mortified when I heard my voice squeak upward. I cleared my throat hurriedly. “A party? I mean, wow. When did everyone plan this?”

“About a week ago,” he said.”Mr. Millischetto and the other student directors told us four leads about it while you were at the dentist that one afternoon before rehearsal, so Natalie, Paul, Lila, and I quietly spread the word.”

I laughed in disbelief of how blind I’d been, but his laugh is sneaky and underhanded in the surreptitious manner his character maintains with pride. “See! We couldn’t just announce it because you are at every rehearsal…”

I didn’t let the silence settle there. Words and laughter were a blessing of a gap filler in the small pocket of air we were sharing.

“I’m so stupid…”

“Nah,” he smiled, “we’re just really good at being secretive.”

I sighed. “I knew Mr. M cast you as Sky for a reason…”

“Oh, nothing to do with my talent and irresistible body? Just me sneakiness?” he laughed.

I looked away and laughed before I felt drawn to his eyes again. They are going to be the ruin of me if I look at them too much or directly. Instead of turning to stone, however, I felt like Jell-O.

A pleasant smile melted onto my face. He has that effect on me “Maybe I’ll give you credit for the other two,” I said mockingly. “Even though you didn’t give me a present…”

“Who said I didn’t get you a present and have yet to give it to you?” I cocked my head back at his tone, and he stands a little taller. His ego that he often taken great care of hiding made its way into the conversation finally by brushing a suave smile along the upturned curvature of his lips. I was turning to goo and starting to panic at what his comment was punned to imply.

“You didn’t get me a present,” I found myself accusing jokingly.

“Hmm, really?”

It was a seductive purr if I had ever heard one, but this was Todd! He joked like this all the time during rehearsal when I’d read lines opposite him on stage if Natalie was not on call, when we were in Chamber second period getting water from the cooler at the same time, when we challenged one another at intervals and chords in Theory sixth period, or when our paths crossed in the hall for a few seconds. That was just how he was with everyone.

My eyes grew regardless at that suggestive insert of his and my throat constricted, incapable of letting much needed air pass in and out of my lungs. Everything was suddenly a question tossed up in the air with carelessly crafted articulation on his part. It worked in his favor once again, my heart having been sent to the surface of my chest for almost audible hearing. I couldn’t help but think in that moment he was listening for it even though he could feel it with me pressed up against his body.

“Todd?”

He didn’t let up. “Hmm?”

Oh, conversation, where art thou when I needth thee most?

“D- Does it come in a box?”

The debonair smile twisted awry with a goofy laugh. My distraction was, thankfully, victorious.

“What, your present?” he asked, and I nodded enthusiastically until a voice reminiscent of one too many romantic films made my question sound like I was hinting at an engagement ring. I bit my smile back at once, searching desperately in the hollow caverns and crevices of my mind for spare, mindless chitchat topics to ease the discomfort Todd wasn’t even picking up on.

He sighed before I could push anymore awkwardly formed words out of my mouth and said, “Okay. I didn’t get you a present.”

Surprisingly, that made me feel extremely relieved, lighter in his embrace. I could meet his eyes with the tiniest air of indifference. I braved through another one of his hazily formed smiles I was sure I was misinterpreting as flirtatious just because of lowlight setting, keeping my lips together tightly as I felt his hand move up my back and reposition both of us so slightly that I had to question myself if it had really happened or I had just imagined it. Decidedly so, it had.

My mouth was parched. I ran my dry tongue over my pasty lips and exhaled choppily. What to say, what to say?

Something! Something passable and half intelligent!

Again I was interrupted before I ever spoke; Paul tapped us on the shoulders and stopped our absentminded sway amidst the conversation. I wanted to tell him off for it.

“What?” Todd asked, seeming as confused as I was.

“Guys, the song’s been over,” Paul informed us grinning widely.

Todd and I listened intently, thinking he was trying to trick us or lie about it, but he was unfortunately telling the truth. The Cranberries had been replaced with an upbeat song by Maroon 5 I had forgotten the name of many times. Todd gave a short laugh and stepped back from me.

“Oh. Yeah,” he said, words concise. “Guess it is.”

My blood boiled as I stood with a mounting anger at Paul for interrupting and the song for not lasting until the end of the night. It was for the best where my overanalytical thoughts and rapid heartbeat were concerned, however. I plastered a modest smile on my face, hoping I wouldn’t be dancing with Paul next ever since I had embarrassed myself at the eighth grade Valentine’s Day dance and forced myself on him. Thankfully, the moment was never resurrected in conversation and wouldn’t be now.

I looked up at Todd effortlessly now that Paul was there, threatening him with prod of my finger in the center of his pink tie. “You owe me a present, pal.” I ignored their smirks and eyed Todd’s hat, swiping it from his coif hair still firm with styling gel from the show and put it on my head as I walked away. “This’ll do.”

“Hey! I need that!” Todd reached for me but missed, grunting in exasperation as I laughed and gave chase all the way back to the table where Mr. M was sitting. I sat down directly in front of him in my new hat the shadowed my eyes. Mr. M put his can of soda down in surprise.

“Well! Hello there!” He smiled, lifting the brim of the hat with his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who is that?”

“A thief!”

My hands flew up to keep the hat pressed tight to my head, but Todd swiped it away faster than I could react.

“Oh, you jerk.” I hit him playfully as he placed it back on his head and stuck his tongue out childishly when he sat down beside me. He wrapped his knuckles on the table in a rhythm I recognized as one he had been playing on the quads for marching band earlier in the year.

“I need it for the show,” he whined defensively at me, looking to Mr. M to back him up as he often did. Mr. M smiled at him with a few innocent blinks of his eyes.

“Maybe you could give her something else instead of the hat,” he suggested. I tried not to distort the statement, though he had intended it to be that way.

“I just gave her three and a half minutes of my life!” Todd said, pounding his fist on the table in mock outrage. “I can’t do much better than that. Women are so demanding! God!” He spread a lighthearted laugh to us. I raised my fist as if to punch him, but he only laughed more, hiding behind his precious hat.

Mr. M pointed at us. “Just wait til you get to college. The fun doesn’t end there, Todd.”

“Why?” he asked with sideways smile to me, still leaning away in expectation of me striking him for what he’s going to say. “Is she going to be at the same school as me?”

He was right to lean away. I hit him, all the while enjoying the banter. We looked up at Mr. M’s silence as he chews a bite of pizza, but he wasn’t smiling like the jester he was a moment ago. He looked confused, now hurrying to swallow while Todd and I each lifted an eyebrow.

“I thought you knew?”

Todd shook his head. “Knew what?”

“That you two were going to the same school?”

I jumped for some reason, looking over at Todd in shock. He made a face.

“What? No we’re not.”

“Yeah!” Mr. M said quickly. At our strangely stiff appearances, our chorus teacher leaned forward in disbelief. “You mean you two didn’t know you were going to be going to the same college? And you’ve each known for a few months now?”

I mouthed wordlessly as I met Todd’s eyes. He was registering a similar look, but it was breaking into a smile.

“Wow! That’s cool.”

I reflexively laughed and said, “Yeah!”

Was it cool?

Having to see and deal with Todd Patton everyday when he met new people, probably fell in love with his future wife, became hugely successful in the music department like he was now, and possibly changed into someone I wouldn’t recognize?

I stared at him for a second, a ‘where will we be sitting in exactly one year’ thought shoving itself to the forefront of my bombarded mind that was already heavily intoxicated with Todd. I quickly laughed as if on autopilot, now blinking at the table.

Three months until we graduate.

Six months until we start college.

I asked Todd, “Are you staying in one of the dorms up there?”

“Yeah.” He sat up with the same realization dawning on him that had hit me only milliseconds before. “I’m staying in the President’s Square on the south end of campus.”

“Me, too,” I barely breathed. “Bellamy. Sixth floor.”

“Bellamy,” he echoed expressionlessly. “Third floor.”

A weird stabbing, gripping sensation seized my chest that stood a good chance at now collapsing, and judging by the blanched, still face of Todd, he was experiencing something close to that effect, except he was doing worlds better than I by playing it off with a collected demeanor. Mr. M’s chuckling worked its way into my ears after I was certain my body had stopped functioning.

“Just promise you’ll both come back to help with musical next year,” he said. “The leads will need some experienced voice tips as well as the next chief student stage manager.”

“Well I can’t do both,” said Todd, taking off his hat and now putting it on my head. “Gotta let her do something so she feels special.”

That broke me out of my revelry and back into the present where I didn’t have to immediately worry about all the complications of life that awaited Todd and I in the big world of the college campus half a year down the road. We laughed together, the sound as harmonious as it was when we sang in chorus. I took the hat off my head and sat it in front of me, running my fingers on along the fine material in thought.

“You’re right,” I heard Mr. M say with a jab at Todd, “We’ll let her give the leads singing advice.”

“Psh, whatever,” Todd said, holding up his hand with the twang of the preppy sophomore cheerleaders in the show that thought they owned it. Though the wind was mostly out of my sails now and blowing around hoards of questions and scenarios in my head, I gave a half-hearted laugh as Mrs. Gibson brought the cart by with the cake on it.

“Hey, hon, have a piece,” she said, passing me a small square of the large marble cake. I smiled and thanked her as she repeated the gesture to Todd and Mr. M. “I’m going to wrap up the leftovers for you, too, so you can take it home at the end of the night,” she told me. “I’ll leave it on the end of the table next to the cooler.”

“Alright, that’s great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“And if you want any pizza or other food, you take that, too,” Mr. M said with a mouthful cake as she moved on to the next table. I nodded.

“Okay.”

“Hey,” – Todd nudged my arm, motioning to my piece of cake with his fork – “I want that piece. It’s smaller. And I’m not that hungry.”

I laughed, pulling it away from him. “No, get off.”

“Mmm, but I want it…”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, it’s not your birthday,” I said, his pretty eyes still staring at my cake hungrily, his fist clutching his plastic fork comically.

“It will be in five days,” he said as if this made a difference. I laughed outright.

“Then talk to me in five days!”

“Or I could just- HA!”

He stabbed my piece of cake with a vengeance as I shrieked loudly and froze. “Todd!”

“Mmmhmm…”

He slid my plate towards himself and offered me his in exchange without waiting for my acceptance; he obviously didn’t need my approval or my permission. Abashed as he started to eat my cake, I looked over at Mr. M with my mouth hanging open, my smile once again betraying the look of anger I’m trying to convey for Todd’s behavior.

I eventually just shut my mouth and look from my piece of cake that Todd’s devouring to the one he’s bestowed on me, wondering what I’m supposed to do now that I’m condemned to stay just friends with Todd for another four years.

You’ll agree that there’s a whole three floors to separate us and a decent sized campus of which we can spend our time on opposing ends.

But now, as I step out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of my dorm for the next four years, my confidence in this prospect vanishes as my thoughts drift to him in passing. Somewhere in this rundown excuse for a dormitory he’s there, and I feel the need to find him as soon as possible.

Late May may have separated us as mere friendly acquaintances, but now late August reunites us as lifelines from each other’s past lives we’re not yet ready to abandon from memory. We still need to be grounded in this strange, new place where our lives hit a point of reset.

By finding Todd Patton and reminding myself of my eighteen birthday cakes, I will be okay. That way, if I ever forget what’s been on those cakes, I’ll at least know Todd can remind me of the eighteenth one he shared with me.