“It’s nothing, Momma.I am the same old Penelope.”
“That’s not true.You are simply glowing!James!Get in here and take a picture of our beautiful fifteen-year-old!”
My stepdad entered the kitchen and stuttered, “You arereallypretty.I am proud of you.You look like your mom.”
“Thanks, James,” I said, hugging him.
His strong arms grasped around me like a teddy bear.
My mom ran into her bedroom and came back with a small gift box.The box had a funky chevron print and a shiny bow on top.She urged me to sit down and open it.
I slowly undid the bow and removed the lid off the box.
Inside the box was a fragile locket in the shape of a peach.The locket contained a picture of my mom, Fawn, and James inside.The only place you could buy something so sentimental was in the peach gift section of the Peach Pot.James and my momma must have had the necklace custom-made.I had seen similar jewelry in their glass case, but nothing like what lay in the tiny box before me.
“You guys, this is the best gift I could have asked for.Thank you so much,” I said, pulling the chain up to put it around my neck.I wanted to wear it everywhere.It was stunning.“Could you help me close the latch?”I asked James.
The metal was cold against my bare chest when he draped the necklace around me.I lifted my hair out of the way as my mom clasped her hands together, gazing at me.
“What are you waiting for?Take her picture, for heaven’s sake.I have to remember this,” my mom commanded.
James backed away from me and picked up our Polaroid camera.“Cheese!”he said.
I smiled with my teeth as the flash blinded me.I was squinting in the photo.My eyes were strained and pinched together.
“Darren wants you to go over to his house as soon as you get up.He said he had some sort of surprise for you.You better go,” my momma told me.
“What does he have planned?”
“That is top-secret information,” she said, rushing me out the door as fast as she could so she wouldn’t tear up.
****
Darren opened his frontdoor immediately as if he had been waiting by the door all morning.He wore tan cargo shorts and his most excellent crimson button-up shirt.Most of Darren’s clothes were worn until they couldn’t be worn anymore.His parents got his clothes secondhand, or Darren’s father would give him the clothing he grew out of.The crimson shirt he wore was in great condition.He must have bought it himself.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
“Hey.What’s up?My mom said I needed to be here when I woke up.”
Darren guided me inside his house.He led me into the basement and told me to sit on the couch because he wanted to show me something.He grabbed his two drumsticks and sat down on his stool.Even though I loved music, there was something awkward about having someone play or sing for you.It was more intimate than seeing someone naked because they had to strip away all of their creative layers.I rarely let other people read my writing because it was personal.
“Please don’t make fun of me,” he begged as he lifted the sticks.He started hitting the toms at a steady beat.Darren sang as he played.
“Pitiful Peaches are what I am to you.
We can swim at the beaches.
But my love is still true.
Pitiful Peaches keep me alive.
I would bleed for you.
Baby, we must survive.
Pitiful Peaches are sweet but tart.
Baby, baby, baby,
