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Okay. Great point. “I mean, there’s a couple things I could probably try,” I said. And those things would cost money. But I still had a little of that, if I… skipped Oriella. “But I couldn’t do it alone.”

Brougham drummed his fingers on the locker he was leaning against.

“Good thing you’re not alone.”

Saturday afternoon, Brougham arrived at Mom’s house to join in on my birthday cake holding a plate of white bread coated in sugar sprinkles, for some reason.

Ainsley led him into the kitchen where Mom, Dad, and I were sitting around the kitchen table, which had a supermarket chocolate cake proudly stuck in its center. One of the best parts of my birthday, if notthebest part, was having Mom and Dad in the same room, at the same time, doing their best not to snap at each other. It was just so rare to see them together, it was basically a present in itself.

Brougham gave a soft smile the moment he saw me and held the plate up in offering, while the rest of us stared atit as one. “I brought fairy bread,” he said. “It’s not a party without fairy bread.”

“Technically, it’s not a party at all,” Ainsley said, tearing open the package of birthday candles. We’d been waiting for Brougham to arrive to do the cake. Brougham and I had to run off to start setting up in about half an hour, so I’d asked if he could join in on the festivities. Usually Brooke would be the one making a guest appearance, but today that wasn’t really an option.

“Do I dare ask what that is?” Mom asked, eyeing the plate warily. What did Brougham do in science class to make her so wary of his cooking, exactly?

“It’s bread with butter and hundreds-and-thousands.”

“You mean sprinkles?” I asked.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Butwhy?” Ainsley asked, picking up a triangle-shaped slice of bread to inspect it. She took a nibble of the corner, then shrugged. “It tastes like you’d expect it to taste, I guess.”

That was a good enough endorsement for Dad, who took a slice. But to be fair, Dad also thought pineapple and anchovies belonged in unspeakable dishes, so he didn’t have a leg to stand on in terms of food snobbery.

“Happy birthday,” Brougham said brightly, holding the plate out to me.

I tried not to laugh as I accepted his offering. I got the distinct feeling he did all this just because he knew it’d throw us.

Dad and Ainsley finished up arranging the candles on the cake, lit them, and then sat me down in front of it while everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to me. Ainsley dutifully filmed the whole thing on her phone. “Don’t forget to wish for something,” she said at the song’s end.

It wasn’t hard to figure out something to wish for. All I wanted was for tonight to go well. Looking across the table at Brougham, standing between my mom and dad and smiling his perfect hint of a smile, I was struck that no matter how lucky I felt to have him in my life, even if only as a friend, he was no replacement for Brooke. No one could be.

I blew out seventeen candles in one breath, then raised an eyebrow at Brougham while I got ready to cut the cake. “I’m surprised you don’t have a special Australian birthday song.”

“Actually, we do. It’s quite mean, though, so I wasn’t sure if it’d go down well.”

Aww, he was learning! “Good call.”

My presents were placed on the table by Mom and Ainsley. From Mom and Dad, I got a pair of honest-to-god real diamond studs. “Because those kids at your school might like to show off with all the expensive trends, but that can’t compete with something quality and timeless,” Mom explained, laughing as I threw my arms around them.

From Ainsley, I got a rosy mauve peasant top that she’d covered in gold and berry-toned embroidered flowers and vines, hundreds of them. It was so intricate I gasped out loud. “Holyshit,Ains. I’m going to put it on right now.”

“Can I film you wearing it? I’ve been filming myself making it for ages now. I’m gonna need footage for the video.”

The two of us ran upstairs, leaving Brougham to chat with our parents and/or keep them from each other’s throats now that they’d lost their witnesses.

“All set for tonight?” Ainsley asked as I tore my shirt off.

“Yup. You still okay for six?” My voice was muffled by fabric as I pulled the new blouse over my head.

“We’ll be there at six on the dot.”

I smoothed the blouse down over my denim shorts and we surveyed me in Ainsley’s floor-length mirror. I looked—

“So beautiful,” Ainsley breathed. “I amsotalented.”

“Thank you. Okay, ready to film?”