He shrugs. “What else are they going to do with their money?”
“Give it to you when they die?” I joke.
“I won’t need it then,” he says. “I’m going to marry rich, don’t you know that by now?”
“Yeah? And what exactly does this future husband do?” I ask.
“Not sure yet,” he says, licking frosting off his fork. “Maybe he’s an athlete. I do like guys in tight shorts.”
“Don’t we all?” Sasha asks, lifting her cake plate as if making a toast. “To dudes in tight shorts.”
I laugh and lift my own plate. “I’ll toast to that.”
We settle into comfortable conversation as we devour the cake. Suddenly, James jumps up. “I totally forgot the most important thing!”
He runs from the table while I stare after him, brow furrowed. He ducks into our tiny kitchen and opens the fridge. After a moment, he turns around with a look of triumph on his face and a bottle of champagne in his hands. “What’s a twenty-first birthday without booze?”
“Hell yeah! I’ll get the glasses.” Sasha is on her feet before I can offer to help.
My face hurts from smiling so much. “You two are spoiling me, you know that?”
“That’s what birthday parties are for, my dear,” James says dramatically. The cork pops and I jump at the sound.
I rise and walk to join my friends in the kitchen where James is already filling our best glasses with sparkling white wine. And by best glasses I mean the mason jars with the handles we picked up at the thrift store.
Sasha passes a glass to me. “Time for a real toast. To Harper!”
“To twenty-one being the best year of your life,” James says as he lifts his own glass.
I clink my glass against theirs and then take a sip of the wine. It tingles my throat as I swallow it. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve had a drink, but there is something sort of special about it being the first time I legallycanhave a drink.
“To the best friends a girl could ask for,” I say, raising my glass again.
“Cheers to that,” Sasha says. She and James clink their glasses against mine and we drink again.
A knock sounds on the door.
“Must be the pizza,” James says.
“I’ll get it,” I say, setting down my glass.
“Oh no you don’t,” Sasha says. “It’s your birthday and I’m not letting you try to pay for your own pizza.”
I pout at her. She knows me too well. Sasha and I met at work study, so I knew exactly how much she didn’t make. Though, she does get a decent allowance from her parents every month for food or entertainment. I know they aren’t wealthy, and I know that she saves most of the money they send her rather than spending it.
“Drink,” James says. “You’re supposed to drink on your twenty-first birthday.” He presses my cup to my hands.
I grin as I grab it. “Yes, sir.” I take a long drink, the bubbles making my nose burn.
Pop.
Another sound like a champagne cork. But louder. And scarier. And not a champagne cork at all.
I drop my glass and turn toward the door just in time to see Sasha fall to the ground. A stream of blood pours from under her forming a fast puddle and I know she’s dead. My whole chest feels like it’s exploding in pain.
“Sasha!” I cry, moving toward her.
James grabs my arm, keeping me in place. “Harper, no.”