Maybe these so-called landmark birthdays just weren't for her, Amber Greene thought to herself.
Two years ago, there was her 16th birthday - good old Sweet Sixteen. She had arranged a pool party with her best friend Casey, and before it could even get started in earnest, Amber slipped on the wet concrete surrounding the pool and broke her arm. She wasn't quite sure what hurt more - the actual breaking of the bone, or the embarrassment of making such a fool of herself in front of her friends.
And then there was today - her 18th birthday. The big one. Her mom had been promising all week that she would wake up early and make Amber her favorite breakfast - Belgian Waffles and French Toast. And to top it all off, her dad had told her that he would drive her to school in his brand new 4Runner, sparing her of the indignity of the school bus, even if only for just one day.
But Mother Nature, that contrary bitch, had other plans.
An unexpected rainstorm had come in overnight, and knocked out the power in the house. Her mom awoke with a start, and from there, the entire household was a frantic scene of chaos as her parents struggled to get ready for work, more or less leaving Amber and her little brother Kevin to fend for themselves.
No Belgian Waffles and French Toast this morning - instead it was Brown Sugar and Cinnamon Pop Tarts, consumed at room temperature.
No ride in luxury and comfort in her dad's awesome new truck - instead, she and Kevin had to walk to the corner and wait for the bus.
Once the bus came to a halt in front of them, she and Kevin entered the bus. Amber huffed to a seat in the stinky, overcrowded bus and took a seat, burying her face in her hands.
Happy birthday, Amber. Jeez.
Things didn't go too much better for her throughout the day. Her best friend Casey - who had been Amber's friend since middle school, and was in Amber's opinion the most naturally gifted artist in the entirety of West Texas - had made a big deal out of the painting that she had made for Amber's birthday. But, she was likewise afflicted by the unexpected power outage and had to leave it at home. She promised to bring it to school tomorrow and sorrowfully hugged Amber close, wishing her a heartfelt happy birthday.
It then occurred to Amber that Casey was the first person to even acknowledge her birthday, let alone wish her a happy one. Her parents were too preoccupied with ensuring that they weren't late for work, and Kevin - well, he was Kevin. He had just turned 13 and felt that he was too cool to acknowledge his big sister in front of his contemporaries.
Sure, he loved her. But school politics were school politics. She got it. She was a kid once, too. She understood the importance of cultural cache.
And Amber hadn't exactly made it easy for Kevin. Kevin had been assimilated into the all-important "cool kids" community. He had just started playing football, and was fancying himself a jock-to-be. And as a Freshman, this permitted him a sort of immunity from the teasing and harassment usually reserved for the incoming class.
And here was his big sister, Amber. Believe it or not, at one time Amber herself was being groomed to be a full fledged member of the "Cool Kids" community. In middle school, she associated with the cheerleaders and the preppies, and took great pains to ensure that she was wearing the "right" clothes, espousing the "right" opinions and most importantly, dating the "right" boys and having the "right" friends.
It was exhausting, and the status it afforded her wasn't worth the pains it took to maintain it. So, sometime between her freshman and sophomore year, Amber decided to do something different - be herself.
She started hanging out almost exclusively with Casey, who she had been friends with since sixth grade, but had maintained at arm's length at the insistence of the clique she was in.
She eschewed the expensive, name brand clothing for thrift store funds and vintage clothing, and unique printed tees. She began to color her hair. She wore Doc Martens boots or Chuck Taylors shoes.
Almost overnight, her social standing plummeted. And she couldn't care less. Especially now - her 18th birthday. She was now an adult, and the childishness of it all made her roll her eyes.
Today, she was wearing her trademark black Doc Martens, which were now scuffed and slightly frayed from the constant use. She wore loose fitting white shorts, and due to the short time available to her this morning, she wore only a black hoodie for a top. No undershirt or bra - not that it much mattered. She wasn't as gifted pneumatically as her friend Casey, who was easily a C-cup.
No, the boob fairy seemed to have forgotten her appointment with Amber, who was more or less an A-cup. Sure, this made her self conscious, and more likely to employ such fashion choices as the oversized hoodie she had on now. However, it also meant that she could get away without the discomfort of wearing a bra now and again.
She was short, maybe standing about 5'2". Her skin was pale white, and currently she had her hair colored a bright, flaming red, with the right side of her hair shaved closely to the scalp. All of this was adorned with a black pair of square, horn rimmed glasses. All of this was accentuated by every self conscious girl's favorite fashion accessory, braces. Yep - glasses and braces. Just in case she tried to go and do anything silly like develop a sense of self confidence or something.
Her dad teased her mercilessly about this. He called her look "angry feminist chic", or "activist lite". Whenever she wore dark colors, he ribbed her by calling it "goth chick revisited."
But Amber didn't feel that any of that applied to her - not really, anyway. She wasn't a feminist of the angry or standard variety, and she certainly wasn't an activist - politics and the like bored her silly, and she viewed both political parties with equal disdain. As for the assertation of her being goth...? That one didn't bother her as much. She enjoyed older bands like The Cure and Joy Division. She shopped at Hot Topic now and again, and she enjoyed dark colors. But she had to admit that Tim Burton movies were simply not her thing.
Like Casey, she preferred to think of herself as an artist, or at the very least, a creative. She couldn't master the graphic arts as Casey had - Casey could sketch, paint, sculpt - you name it. No, Amber's gift - or at least she hoped that it was her gift - was writing.
She fastidiously maintained a journal, wherein she documented her innermost thoughts and feelings, hopes, aspirations, and fears. In addition to this, she also had been trying her hand at composing short stories and poems. Most of these she was far too self conscious to share with anyone, however she had shared a handful with Casey, who met them with enthusiastic appraisal. Amber never could be certain if the praise was genuine, or if Casey was just being polite, but she decided to take it on face value, and recently the two decided to try their hands at making their own comic book. It would basically be exaggerated versions of the two of them and their adventures, both real and imagined. In all likelihood, nothing would come of it, but Amber was excited at the prospect of creating something with her best friend nonetheless.
In addition to Casey, Amber's small social circle included Leonard - her boyfriend. They had begun dating at the end of the last school year. He had recently moved into town, and he was a self styled intellectual type. He was rail thin, wore thick black glasses similar to Amber's, had thick, wavy black hair that he was constantly running his hand through, or brushing out of his face. He wasn't an artist per se, but he at the very least voiced an appreciation of the arts, and was very supportive of Amber and Casey's endeavors.
