The pale boy with a jet black bowl cut sat patiently in his small plastic chair at the small plastic table. All the chairs had a balloon tied to them. Except his. His had three. That’s because today was his day. Even Rogue had a balloon tied to his paw.
Mom had asked him whether he was a little old to bring his “little stuffed friend” to his party. Pssh. Little did she know Rogue was secretly an alpha-protector with ginormous claws and teeth and who could kill anyone with one bite. If he wanted. He put on a cuddly face around Mom. Otherwise she might be scared. And make him sleep outside. Rogue didn’t like sleeping outside.
Rogue also didn’t like the zoo. Which is where they were now. For his party. His parties were always at the zoo, because they would let him touch the animals, the nice ones, at least. Rogue didn’t like the animals. He would bark at them. That’s why they had to have the party inside.
He and his friends had already seen the animal, which was armadillo named Robert, and Rogue didn’t get along with him very well but it was okay because now it was time for cake which was delicious and also Rogue’s favorite part. Everyone chose their seat at the table intellectually. He had Andy to his left and Easton to his right. Or the other way around. He could never remember. And Rogue on his lap. Obviously. He was surrounded by his friends. Well, they were mostly his friends. Except for a few.
There was Jack, who he was on the swim team with. He gave him a pack of fruit snacks once while they were waiting for their relay race. Which was very generous and also his favorite kind. Red. But then there was the time last week at recess when the policemen declared war on the cowboys and Jack said there wasn’t room on his horse, but there totally was, and galloped away without him. Bam. They threw him in the back of the paddy wagon. Like a common crook. Rogue was even-keel like usual. Advised him not to make any discriminating statements. Or rash decisions that could be used against him in the future of law. Rogue had more loyalty in one paw than Jack had in his entire body. Andy was also there because the policement also caught him. Luckily, he and Rogue and Andy dug a hole in the ground and found a secret lair. Like full-on secret lair with 200 screens, and one of them even had his bedroom with his bed with all his stuffed animals. He hoped Andy didn’t see that one. They had every type of gun possible like the ones you can make with three fingers on one hand and the ones you make with two fingers on each hand and even a dog gun you could make with a paw, for Rogue. The whole shebang.
That’s why Andy sat next to him and would get a slice of cake first. Obviously. Jack had to sit next to Hannah-Clay Henry. The wench.
Hannah-Clay Henry. Not Hannah. Not Hannah-Clay. Hannah-Clay Henry. Like she was freaking principal or a president or something. Not him. He didn’t fall into her trap. That’s why he called her HCH. That showed her. Did he have to say he hated her? Even Rogue always talked about how much he hated her, and dogs are much more kind than humans.
She hurt to look at. Her stupid thick purple glasses. Always pushing them up her big fat nose with boogers and snot oozing out all the time in a really gross way. She was also the first girl to get her ears pierced because her parents were German or something and thought that she thought that she was really so cool because of it. She was also always bouncing her leg and raising and her hand and saying stupid things nobody cared about. Pedant!
Especially that one time in Kindergarten.
He could barely bring himself to remember it. Hannah-Clay Henry was a master manipulator of people’s brains and minds. He always told Mom that he hated Hannah-Clay Henry, but somehow every week he still had to go for a walk. The three of them. All together. Because Mom was friends with her mom. Or something stupid like that. He practically had to hide behind Mom he was so embarrassed. He knew that Hannah-Clay Henry was bribing Mom, or blackmailing her, or maybe kidnapped his great Aunt Shelly. And this made him hate her so many more times. No one messed with Mom and got away with it.
Mom always read him the street signs. Yes he did ask but he could read them himself. Obviously. He just liked when Mom did it instead. He was really good at reading, actually. He even read a book that was 300 pages. 304 if you count the table of contents. But this day was a horrible day. Hannah-Clay Henry was more tragical than usual. He could tell by the malignant (which meant evil) smile on her face and the despicable (which also meant evil) cackle when she saw him. She knew she had him. He was cornered. Then the fateful moment that would change the whole entirety of the rest of his life happened. They had walked around the concrete sidewalk block, past all 42 houses, and were standing on the corner, when he asked Mom what the big green sign on the signpost said (not because he didn’t know how). He was so stupid! How could he not have seen this ambush coming from a mile away with his own two eyes?
Arrrrrrgggghhhh!
Hannah-Clay Henry had been waiting for this moment to pounce. She must have been holding a knife to Mom’s back. Because—instead of reading it—Mom asked her to read it. The smug smile hadn’t left her face since. Whenever he talked to Rogue about it (he hadn’t gotten Rogue by the time of the accident) Rogue says not to think about it, but being a dog and all, he doesn’t have to read so he doesn’t get it.
He hoped she got her cake last and that her piece was too tiny and would fall over on the plate and onto the ground for the ants to eat. Joke was on her anyway. He knew the “horse” she “rode” during recess wasn’t real anyway.
He had told Mom only about a million and one half times that he wanted only his friends at the party. No one else. Especially not Hannah-Clay Henry. He noticed she was sitting next to another girl he didn’t recognize and they were whispering back and forth to each other and look at him and smiling. Probably talking about whatever gross things girls talk about, like dolls or cooties or math or whatever. Or—they were planning a sneak attack as bounty hunters for the policemen. He’d have to keep an eye on the back of his head in case they did an ambush on him. He couldn’t investigate now though—he knew it would devastate his mother to take a work call during the party. Maybe a tracking device was in order. Or he could call for backup and alert the international agency for top-secret surveillance. Rogue could create a diversion, or—
Uh-oh.
The room hushed.
His heart dropped. He realized too late.
The lights dimmed.
It was an ambush. A trap. An entrapment.
All eyes slowly turned to look at him like they were all terminators from the terminator movie locking onto their one single alive human target. Even Rogue who was usually braïveté and trusty cowered in his lap.
He could feel it in his tummy before the first note even hit.
He braced for impact as the words pounded him from all angles.
Happy…
He had prepared for this moment. His training couldn’t fail him now. He took a deep breath and another and another after that. He tried to make eye contact with the gorilla poster on the wall. Why were they all looking at him like that? It was weird and creepy and not normal and unnatural. What messed-up, twisted, no-good, bad person invented this tradition?
Birthday…
All those eyes . . . all fixated on him. All those hours he spent training. Listening to the song repeat. Over. And over.
To you…
Damn them! The evil dentist wished he could torture like this.
Happy…
He dug his fingers into Rogue’s fur. Rogue whimpered and tried to put on a brave face but couldn’t do anything else to help.
Birthday…
Their voices were ruminating now, practically screaming at him. It was cruel. His eyelids began to contract. He couldn’t hold on much longer. They were sucking the air out of the whole entire room.
Dear…
His world—blank. Nothing. Kaput. It smelled like armadillo feces.
You look like…
His throat was rising. They drew out every syllable. They were teasing him.
A monkey…
He was going to explode. Release. Release. Release! The first tear escaped. Stupid! Stupid! Why would it do that? Go back! You’re not wanted here! Like, not at all!
And you smell like one too!
One by one the tears slipped and slided down his face.
The monsters surrounded him like evil ghosts and ghouls sucking his soul and taking his life.
Ooooodaddyishecryingwhat’swrongboobalahstopthatdamncryingalreadyyou’retoooldforthisshitawweverything’sgoingtobeokayhowoldisheagainooohturnthecameraoffalreadygoddamnitOooooo
He couldn’t see their faces anymore. Stinging wetness was all his eyes could see. He still knew their mouths were defiled into the crying and laughing faces like the ones on the masks in drama theatre class that were way too happy or way too sad.
He couldn’t bear it. He pushed his chair away from the table. He anguished. Audibly. He dodged the policeman grappling hook arms that tried to stop him as he made his fearful escape. Rogue bounded behind him, telling him to come back, but he didn’t even want to listen.
Why do boys have to cry?
Gosh dang it. He wiped away a tear using the sleeve of the striped shirt with a panda stitched in the front that his mom made him wear. For special occasions. Then hit himself in the face. I am not happy with you, he told himself. Rogue told him to take a deep breath and count to five. He did it but he didn’t believe it because dogs don’t cry and what would dogs even know about birthdays and songs and friends anyway. Rogue looked umbraged at the remark.
The zoo was a good place for a birthday party. Even if you cry, you go look at the animals and be happy because the animals are happy.
They walked to the African exhibit. Rogue liked the colorful birds. He felt bad for Rogue because one time his paw got stuck in the washing machine door and it had to be sewed up and the stitches were still visible. Mom tried to put a cast on it but it made it harder for Rogue to hunt so he took it off Rogue himself. He liked taking care of Rogue. It was hard work being a dog dad. But it was rewarding. That’s what Mom says. He could be a real dad one day. He would be a good one. His boy would also cry and he wouldn’t say anything about it, because that’s what being a dad is. When do boys become dads, he asked Rogue, who just smiled.
He was glad he had Rogue. He felt very short otherwise. All these families and strollers. No one paid him much attention, probably because they assumed he was mature enough to look after himself and go to the zoo alone if he wanted to, which is true, he just hadn’t gotten around to doing it before now, and now was the perfect opportunity to do it anyway, because he had never been older than he was now.
He hoped Hannah-Clay Henry didn’t blow out his candles for him. Then he’d have to get a new cake. He knew that when he decided to go back, the room would be exactly how it was when he left but the lights would all be back on and it would be silent. And no one would have thought anything about him while he was gone except for how much they missed him. And how much they wished he had hurried back because his cake looked so good. And how it’s okay to cry at your birthday party, lots of boys do it, even if they are old enough to walk to school by themselves and brush their teeth without being asked to, because they were young men pretty much at this point. And the candles would still be burning. Rogue didn’t say anything, but licked his face kindly.
Hi
A girl. Not just any girl.
Hannah. Clay. Henry.
They were standing less than a foot apart. In front of the monkey cage. She had ambushed while he and Rogue were deep in conversation. Bastards! He told Rogue to get into defense mode.
Hi, she said again.
He realized he hadn’t actually spoken to Hannah-Clay Henry since Kindergarten.
You have brown eyes, she said. I like brown eyes.
What kind of mind trick was this? She was trying to put an entrance on him. You have green eyes, you devil he said. To himself. In his head. He didn’t pay attention to eye color. Usually. You smell like the organic grocery store Mom gets her soap from, in a bad way. He added on in his head. How do you escape mind tricks? He asked Rogue. Rogue looked helpless. She had gotten to him too. He was losing control of the situation. He looked around for an escape route but she had blocked them all off. He panicked.
Hi, he said to her.
Do you want to know why I have this glove? She lifted her hand right without breaking eye contact. He let his eyes peek down. She had a tight, white glove. On her right hand. He had never noticed she had a glove before. Maybe she had a tiny gun hidden in there. Or she used it to hide her evil birthmark. Before he could think of a funny and mean comment to say back—
I’ll tell you, she said, I burnt myself.
Burnt herself? Not only was she annoying and mean, but also stupid. He looked at Rogue and chuckled. Rogue looked unamused. If all his friends knew that she burned herself they’d also hate her like he did. He had to gather more reconnaissance. He asked her if it was on purposefully.
She smirked and narrowed her eyes. Wouldn’t you like to know, funny boy, she said. What’s your dog’s name?
She was still looking. At him, not the monkeys. This was a certified trap. He’d heard this one a million times. He looked at Rogue, who whispered back not to tell her the truth, because maybe she was trying to steal his identity and buy a bunch of credit cards. Obviously not, he responded to Rogue. So he told her that Rogue’s name was Roscoe.
Hi Roscoe! And she waved.
He and Rogue both looked at each other. Was it possible that this wasn’t a trap afterall? He was perplexified by her. A smile. Her face turned akimbo. She was still not losing the staring contest. A monkey threw a fruit at them. It hit the window. They both laughed. He rehostelered his secret ray gun.
Why are you here by yourself?
Uh oh. He couldn’t tell what actually happened. He hoped that she had been too busy planning her secret mission that she hadn’t seen him cry. He also hoped his eyes weren’t still red. He had to think quickly or else she’d get suspicious. He told her he wasn’t alone.
Well then, who are you here with?
The monkeys.
Her lips made a full laugh. She showed him a row of small upper teeth and even smaller lower teeth. Like corn. He liked the way she bent forward a bit and her shoulders moved when she laughed. Like a Frankenstein thing. Maybe a little less ugly though. As less ugly as a girl can be, anyway.
Can I ask you a question now?
No. She giggled.
What’s funny?
He looked down at Rogue, who seemed just as confuddled. Tell her she isn’t perspicuous, whispered the dog. He repeated it.
She stopped giggling. What’s that mean?
He looked down at Rogue again. Rogue shrugged his shoulders.
It means what it means. He admitted.
Why did you cry at the birthday song?
He felt nauseated. He looked at his shoes. They were almost touching hers.
It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Can I tell you something too?
Yes.
I peed my pants.
Really?
No. But wouldn’t that have been funny?
This time they both laughed. The monkeys laughed too. Smiling with her made the inside of his chest tingle.
Can I ask you something else?
He looked down to Rogue for guidance, but his friend wasn’t there.
He nodded.
Do you want to come to my birthday party tomorrow?