Finding Laila: Some Changes are Necessary (12 page)

“You
really aren’t good at being friends with girls, are you?” she teases. “But yes,
I am
trying
to be a friend and I
think you need to chill out. It was artwork, not a proposal.”

“I
have to ask, based on other experiences with my friends’ girlfriends.” I pause
and check to see that I have her attention. “Let’s just say that you and Joey
break up—how long before you’re gossiping about me like the others?”

She
looks affronted for a moment, but softens and nods her head. “I get it. Based
on the way you’ve been treated, I understand. I can’t say how things will work
for Joey and me, but I can tell you this: I’m not the type of girl to hate
someone and talk bad about them just because. I think you’re pretty cool and
obviously you can handle yourself. I wish I had your confidence. Not to sound
all stupid and cheesy, but I’d like it if we could be friends, no matter what
happens between me and Joey.”

“I’m
not sure how good I’ll be at it, but I’m willing to give it a try.” I smile.

“Great.”
She clasps her hands and flashes a larger than necessary smile. “My first act
as your friend is to get you to pick a damn outfit for your party. When is it
anyway?”

“Two
weeks,” I sulk. “I turn eighteen in two weeks and my friends want to torture
me.”

“Poor
baby,” she coos as she reaches over and hands me my cell. “I think you got a
text.”

I
look at the screen when it lights up with Haden’s name.

Haden: It’s not what you
think.

Me: I know. Sorry I
freaked.

Haden: You know?

Me: It’s crazy to see us
like that.

Haden: It was something
that came to me after we talked.

I
read the texts to Bailey and after the last
one,
she
looks at me with questioning eyes.

“What?”
I ask.

“What
did y’all talk about?”

“Lots
of things, but there isn’t one thing that stands out—it was a pretty
overwhelming night.”

“Don’t
you think you should ask him then?”

Me: What does it mean?

Haden: I guess it’s a wish.

Me: Wish?

Haden: Yeah—that
maybe we didn’t meet too young.

My
nose burns, my eyes
fill with unshed
tears, and Bailey
is there to witness the whole damn thing.

“You
don’t have to tell me—I already know it’s something good. Those artsy
types are so romantic.”

I
look at the screen again and smile before answering. “Yeah, he really is.”

The last two weeks have been an absolute
hell.

Word
spread that Braxton was having a party, and my name was simply a footnote in
the description. Not that I care—which is good, because no one else does
either.

They
wanted to have a costume party, since my birthday falls the day after
Halloween, but I vetoed that idea. After that, the guys were having a hard time
coming up with a theme, so Mrs. Jameson offered to help plan it and all the
guys took her up on it. What was supposed to be a small gathering has turned
into the social event of the semester and I’d like to crawl into a hole until
it’s over.

In
fact, there were several people who commented a similar sentiment. I’d heard
talk when the party was mentioned that no one would even notice if I wasn’t
there.

Newsflash: I’m counting on
that!

Bailey
has been on my case trying to get me to stick around and prove everyone wrong.

“I
don’t have anything to prove,” I told her.

“Then
do it for the guys,” she argued. “The other people might not be there for you,
but the guys are.”

And
that leads us to our current conversation about my birthday party, which is
tonight. Bailey came home with me and is staying the night. We’re supposed to
head over to Braxton’s house around eight, so that gives me three hours to get
sick with something.

Is that a fever I feel coming
on?

“Are
you even listening to me?” Bailey whines as she waves her hand in my face.

“Nope.”
I grin. “I tuned you out when you said ‘dress.’”

“You
are hopeless, you know that?”

“Thanks.”

“Are
you seriously still planning to stick around for only a few minutes?”

“I
told the guys weeks ago that I’d much rather just hang out with them—and
you, of course. This party was their idea and I don’t want a part in it.”

“Don’t
be a jerk, you know they’d be mad if you skip out too soon.”

“I
make no promises other than this: I will show up. I will smile. I will leave.
When all of this happens is yet to be determined.”

“Fine,”
she huffs. “Let’s get dressed. I told Joey I’d head over early to help with the
setup.”

The
good thing about a November birthday is that it’s cool enough to wear my
favorite jeans—though I did relent and buy a cute cream chiffon blouse to
wear over a
cami
. There’s also a long black coat
that’s been collecting dust in my closet for a year that I’ve been dying to
wear.

Bailey
brought over some dress selections from her house in case I change my mind, but
I won’t.

She’s
in the bathroom getting dressed and I drag on the skinny jeans and then pull my
knee-high boots over them. The shirt sits perfect and looks
good
against my light skin, though I have no idea what to do with my hair.

Bailey
emerges from the bathroom and her jaw almost hits the floor.

“What?”
I drop my hands against my thighs. “Does it look that bad?”

“Not
at all. Damn, Laila, I love that outfit.”

“Oh,
wait until you see the best part.” I head to the closet and dig through it
until I find the coat. It’s fitted and light, but dresses up the entire
ensemble.

“Okay,
you have to let me borrow that sometime.” She smiles and twirls around. “What
do you think?”

She’s
wearing a sleeveless navy blue dress that hugs her like a second skin. Against
her olive complexion and curvy body, it works.

“You
look great, but you realize you’re going to be cold, right?”

“I’ll
be fine,” she argues. “How are you going to wear your hair?”

I
shrug. “It’s done.”

I
have never been one to do much with my brown hair. Ponytail or down, that’s the
extent of my styling skills, mainly because I don’t have the patience to learn.

“Sit
down and let me play with it,” she pleads, waving me toward the bathroom.

Reluctantly,
I follow and watch with fascination as she twists, twirls, and pins my hair for
ten minutes before pulling out her wand. No, not the fairy godmother magical
kind—the burn-your-hair-off or scar-you-for-life, incredibly hot kind.

“What,
exactly, do you plan to do with that?”

“Shut
up and sit still,” she orders.

I
stick my tongue out at her and sigh as she pulls random pieces of hair and
wraps them around the rod. She grabs a mirror out and hands it to me so I can
see the back.

“I
love it,” I say, looking at the intricate up-do she did to my hair. It’s a
messy clump of hair that she secured into a bun with a few strands left out.
She finished the look off with a pretty antique-looking comb with tendrils
framing my face.

“How
did you learn to do this?” I ask, admiring her work.

“I
get bored sometimes.”

“When
I get bored, I read,” I laugh.

“What
about your makeup?” She starts to open her bag of tricks again but I stop her.

“I
let you get away with the hair—thank you, by the way—but no to the
makeup. I like the way I do my makeup.”

She
pulls out a box that has a ribbon on it and hands it to me. “I like the way you
do your makeup, too. I wanted to give you your birthday present before we
leave.”

“Okay,
I’m a jerk,” I sigh, reluctantly reaching for the small box. “Thanks.”

“You
have to open it first, you might not like it.” She smiles, but I can tell she
already knows I’ll like it.

I
pull the ribbon off and look inside to find a gold chain with four pieces
dangling from it. Each piece has its own shape and imperfections, but it’s
gorgeous. She reaches for the box and pulls the necklace out to give me a
better look, and when I look at the back I see letters on the back of each
oddly shaped piece that dangles from it.

“There’s
one for each of the guys,” she smiles. “I know how much they mean to you, so I
thought you might like it.”

I’m not a girly girl,
I think to myself just before I grab her
and give her a huge hug.

“This
is amazing, I love it,” I gush. “Can you put it on me?”

“You’re
going to wear it?”

“Yeah,
of course. I needed something to dress up my outfit, and I think this is
perfect.”

 
* * *

“Laila,
you look beautiful,” Mrs. Jameson, Braxton’s mom, says when she answers the
door.

“Thank
you,” I blush. “And this is my friend Bailey, Joey’s girlfriend.”

“I’ve
heard so much about you.” Mrs. Jameson smiles.

“Can
we help with anything?” Bailey asks.

“Let’s
go see what trouble the guys are getting into. You know, they weren’t expecting
you for another hour,” Braxton’s mom winks.

“Sorry,
but this one was eager to get over here and micromanage,” I incline my head
toward Bailey and laugh.

We
walk into the kitchen and the guys are standing around the island chatting but
all conversation stops when they see us.

“You’re
early,” Cole announces, as if I’ve done something wrong. “Why are you here
already?”

“We
came over to help,” I say defensively.

“It’s
your birthday party, you don’t help,” Braxton laughs.

“Yeah,
I agree, but Bailey’s my ride and so, here I am.”

“Good
one, Bailey,” Joey says with a wink.

Haden
walks over and gives me a kiss and pulls me further into the kitchen. “Exactly
as we planned,” he laughs and I look around at everyone who’s wearing the same
grin he is.

“What
are you talking about?” I ask in confusion.

“We
know you don’t want to do the party thing,” Braxton starts, but I cut him off.

“Really?
No party?” I jump up and down excitedly.

“Hold
up, no one said anything about that,” he says. “But we are having a party for
you right now, before everyone gets here.”

My
mom, dad, and Luka walk in holding a birthday cake with eighteen candles, and
the other
parents
file in behind them. Everyone starts
to sing a horrible rendition of “Happy Birthday” that has me laughing. This is
exactly the type of party that I wanted: my friends and family—no fuss.

Haden
places his hands on my shoulders and tells me to make a wish before I blow out
the candles.

I wish I could be this
happy forever.

“I
love y’all so much.” I smile widely at everyone after I’ve successfully blown
out the candles on my cake.

“All
right, Nixon,” Cole smiles and hands me a box, “my present first.”

I
take the box and open it to find a concert T-shirt for Mumford and Sons and an
envelope. I open it up and inside
are
tickets to their
concert that’s coming up next summer.

“Are
you kidding me? Cole, I love you, this is awesome,” I gush.

“You
realize that I get one of those tickets, right?” he laughs.

“This
show sold out—how did you get these?” I ask, finding six tickets inside.

“Don’t
ask,” he says before giving me a hug and kissing my cheek. “Happy birthday,
Lai.”

“All
right, I’m not sure I can top that, but here’s mine,” Joey says, handing me a
heavy box.

I
rip off the wrapping paper to reveal pristine copies of all seven hardcover
Harry Potter books.

“Joey!”
I set the box down and give him a hug. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

I
have read the entire series twice and told Joey a while back that I was tired
of checking them out from the library because they never had the copy I wanted.

“I’m
glad you like it.” He smiles.

Braxton
hands me something large and flat that is wrapped in purple paper. It feels
like a giant coloring book, but I’m certain that’s not what it is. I tear the
paper off and find a United States atlas inside. I’m not sure what to make of
it and Braxton points to it. “There’s a note inside.” He grins at my unease.

Anywhere you want to go.

Love,

Braxton

“What?”
I ask, bemused.

“Road
trip,” the guys yell, putting the pieces together for me.

“Are
you serious?” I look around to see all of them nodding.

“We’ll
head out this summer, one last hurrah for all of us,” he explains. “You in?”

I
can’t contain my smile and jump up and down like a kid. “Yes! Thank you all so
much, I love everything,” I almost sing.

“Does
that mean you’re going to stick around for the other party?”

I
look at Haden, who shrugs his shoulders, leaving the decision up to me.

“I’m
not going to stay long, but yeah, why not?”

The
guys share triumphant high fives and move outside where I suppose things are
set up for the party. Mrs. Jameson takes the cake to another part of the
kitchen to cut it up, leaving me with my parents and Luka. They manage a smile,
but both seem sad.

“Guys,
I’m not going anywhere, and it’s just a birthday. You’re still stuck with me
for at least another six months.” I grab my mom and hug her.

“Happy
birthday, Laila,” she says while holding my face. “The day you came into my
life, I knew God had a plan.”

“You
always say that,” I counter with a crooked smile.

“And
she means it,” Dad interjects. “We have something for you, but we’re going to
give it to you tomorrow.”

“Are
you leaving?”

“Yeah,
we need to get Luka in bed,” Dad says while Luka begins to cry.

“I’m
not tired yet,” she argues.

“Hey,
we’ll hang out tomorrow, okay?” I try to get her to stop, but it only makes her
angry.

“No,
I want cake,” she pouts.

“I’ll
bring some cake home and we can eat it for breakfast, right, Mom?” I nod,
encouraging her to agree.

“It’s
Laila’s day, so whatever she wants, she gets,” she smiles. That seems to quiet
Luka down and I watch them leave, looking as if something is weighing on them.

Haden
walks back in and wraps his arms around my waist. I lean my head against his
shoulder and relax my back into him.

“Do
you really want to stick around?” he asks.

“No,
but I told y’all I would.”

“Well,
I still haven’t given you my present, but we have to go someplace for it.”

I
turn to face him, enjoying the mystery of the gift.

“When
can we leave?” I ask excitedly.

“Just
say when,” he winks.

“One
hour,” I tell him, pulling his wrist so I can see his watch. “Everyone should
be getting here any minute, we’ll leave in one hour.”