That must be the farthest he’s gone on these diplomatic trips. Jericho really has him shipping out all over the country at this point.
“I wish we could go somewhere,” I say. “Just run off for a bit.”
“That would be nice.”
“Somewhere quiet,” I say, noticing my eyelids getting heavy.
“Perfect,” Jasper says quietly.
A yawn erupts from my mouth, breaking our peaceful moment. “I should go,” I say. “So sleepy.”
“Okay, Max. Sleep well. I’ll—I’ll speak to you tomorrow if I can.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
My eyes are shut before Jasper has time to hang up the phone.
“Happy birthday, Max!” Katie screams, dropping her two bags overladen with picnic supplies and balancing a sheet cake in a plastic container as she leaps into my arms.
My birthday always lands in the last week of school—a fact that has plagued me my entire life. It’s almost impossible to plan a birthday party when everyone is already planning their summer vacations, their end-of-year parties, distracted thinking about ice cream and beaches and leaving school behind. This year is no different. But for the first time I’m actually happy about it.
After my little tumble off the rock in the woods, I decided to take my parents’ advice and chill out on the whole future-leader-of-the-pack front. Jasper and I have put a temporary hold on trying to mind-link. And luckily Katie and her mates seem to have come to something of a stalemate, so there hasn’t been too much extracurricular drama. I was able to finish my junior year, get through my exams, without too many distractions.
Jasper has been busy as well, wrapping up his freshman year at Harvard (for Selene’s sake!) and continuing to extend his father’s advocacy program to farther reaches. I swear he’s covered almost the entire northeast corner of the country at this point. If the Elite Pack was looking for friends, we must have found them by now. We’ve still managed to speak every other day or so—although that still doesn’t feel like enough.
So instead of planning a big blowout birthday bash, I’ve invited a small group of close friends to Central Park for a picnic with a view to finding some place to sing karaoke later if we’re still in the mood and haven’t maxed ourselves out on sausages, burgers, and cupcakes. Katie agreed to meet me a little early at a cozy spot near Bethesda Fountain to string ribbons between trees and set up the picnic. My parents are also buzzing around somewhere, getting the barbecue going (Dad’s job) and scoping out the nearest public toilet (Mom’s job).
“Oh my god,” Katie says, finally releasing me from her death hug. “We’re so old!”
Katie’s birthday was a couple of weeks ago and she’s obviously still adjusting.
“Absolutely decrepit,” I say.
She surveys the area. “This is a cute spot.”
We’ve planted ourselves between a number of trees—aspen or oak, I’m not sure. Through a copse it’s possible to see the lake, and there’s enough shade without blocking out the fresh summer sun altogether. The grass is green and lush and dotted with daisies.
“Who’s coming again?”
I smile at her and start unpacking one of her bags—piling bags of potato chips, queso dip, donuts, plastic cups, and paper plates onto the rug I previously laid down.
“You, Todd, Simon,” I say. “Aisha and Troy. My parents. Your mom.”
“She’s on her way,” Katie says.
“And that’s it.”
“No Jasper?”
I take a breath. “He said he’d try and make it but he’s coming back from visiting a pack in Atlantic City.”
“Oh,” she says, glancing up from where she’s peeling the foil off a platter of chicken wings. “I’m sorry. I’m sure he’s called though.”
My face screws itself up into a weird formation.
“What’s that face about?”
