My birthday falls at the tail end of August, which usually means that I can celebrate the entire week before school starts and still get happy birthdays from my teachers and friends the first few days back. Last year, some old guy said that we should start school earlier, which means a week before Labor Day, not after.

Which means that my 13th birthday is now the day before school starts. Mom wanted to still have a party for me, but I knew that everyone would be going to K-Mart to get their school supplies and new sneakers and their parents would be telling them to get a good night’s sleep for the first day.

“So are you saying that you don’t want a party?”

“No.”

“No you don’t want a party or no you do?”

“No, I do.” I muttered, only because my chin was stuffed in my hands, elbows propped on the counter as I watched my Mom make grilled cheese.

“Then we’ll just push it back one weekend.”

“But that’s Labor Day,” I protested. “Everyone will be going away.”

“Trust me, Kiddo,” Dad intervened as he reached around Mom to sneak a slice of cheese. “No one is going away with this heat.”

“So let’s have it then, ok? All settled. We’ll have your party the following Saturday.” Mom sighed and stopped buttering the bread. “Now what’s wrong?”

“It just won’t feel like my birthday if I have the party late.”

“Oh, stop being such a whiner.”

“I’m not whining, I’m turning 13. Mom, tell Audrey I’m not whining.”

“Anna,” Mom leaned her hands on the counter, her voice gentle. “It will be fine, I promise. Now, who do you want to invite?”

“Ava and Connor -”

Con-ner,” Audrey sang. I looked at dad, who offered a brief nod, then I smacked my sister on the arm.

“Ouch! Dad!”

“James!”

Dad shrugged and tried to hide his grin as he folded another slice into fourths and popped it into his mouth.

“Ok, ok…We’ll work on the list later. And on your birthday we’ll have a nice family dinner, open some presents, eat some cake, and it will feel like your birthday, Sweetheart, I promise you. You’re turning 13, that’s a big number.”

“Will Grandma be there?”

I watched as they all exchanged glances, then rolled my eyes as I slid off the stool and began to walk away. “I take it that’s a ‘no’.”

“We can bring her some cake at the nursing home…”

“No, forget it,” I said as I pushed open the screen door, and headed down the porch steps. “I don’t even want a birthday anymore.”