Chapter 19: Twenty-One

Talia's POV

I turned twenty-one on a Friday, at the end of the longest week of my life.

I didn't plan to do anything about it.

I came back from the cohort's last review session at seven, and the garage door was down.

That had never happened before.

I pushed it up, and the whole room yelled at me.

The man in work boots had strung a line of paper lanterns across the rafters.

The girl with the baby stood on a milk crate holding a sheet cake with a gloved fist drawn on it in blue frosting.

The boy in the back row had brought all four of his little brothers, who were hitting the heavy bag with open hands.

"Happy birthday!" the girl by the window said, and threw her arms around me.

I stood there with my bag on my shoulder.

Nobody had thrown me a party since the morning I turned six and Pop burned a pancake.

"Who did this?"

"Caleb," half of them said.

"Eli paid for the cake," the other half said.

Eli was by the door with a roll of paper towels, looking embarrassed.

"I held the milk crate," he said.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

It was a very small thing to say, and it was the first thing my brother had ever done for me without being asked.

We ate the cake off paper towels.

The baby got frosting on both cheeks and on the man in work boots, who said it was an honor.

Then Caleb carried a long box out from behind the bags and put it in my lap.

Inside was a pair of boxing gloves in dark red leather, my size, with N. stitched on the cuff.

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