Birthday parties have always been a peculiar thing to me. The idea of celebrating life as you walk it’s path has always sat quite nicely with me. What confuses me is how much not being invited to one can sting.

Entering the eighth grade as the new kid I was deemed rather lucky for I knew several kids in my classes, I had played soccer with them since I can remember. This new duanting school scared me greatly though, it dwarfed the size of my last. Alas, the words of my parents came true though and I quickly found a group of friends to call my own. The prospect of choosing your friends was new to me, I was stuck with only thirteen others in my grade prior to this and we were forced to make do and please each other.

Built up with confidence I was filled with the adolescent hope that I had found friends to face the challenges of school with. The year went by for the most part without difficulty. The end of May eventually came and the anticipation of summer began to rise. With that came two of my friend’s birthdays, Matt followed five days later by Sophia.

Seeing as we were self-proclaimed introverts we rarely spent our lunch in the school cafeteria, instead opting for a willing teacher to host us. Today our science teacher had relented. It was Friday, meaning Sophia would turn fourteen tomorrow. In a haphazard, but spirited, celebration we sang and presented her with gifts bought with what little money teenagers tend to have. Eventually food was eaten and Matt took to chasing around Margaret, a girl lovingly nicknamed Marge. Sophia admired her presents and quietly sat with Ethan who was preoccupied trying to get the game of chase stopped. I took to sitting with my back to them, talking over a table to Julia and Ashley. Our friend group with complete at that and we were content with each other’s company.

Topics soon wandered to that of this weekend and Julia and Ashley smiled knowingly.

“What?” I questioned.

“Nothing.” Was the quick response. A few more questions presented me with the information that the group was hanging out tonight. I was not included in this equation. I didn’t care much, I had a makeup soccer game anyways and figured that missing a few of us fooling around wouldn’t be a big deal.

“Where are you guys going.”

“I don’t know.” Was the only response I got. Trying to take everything lightly I began to guess stores and ridiculous places both far and near.

“We’re going to a play in Boston.” Ashley eventually told me, looking slightly too happy.

“What play? Maybe I’ve heard of it.” Came my nosey response. When I received shrugs I tried again. “Why can’t you guys tell me? Are you afraid I’m going to crash it?”

“Yes.” The blunt response of Julia sent me blinking a few times. I explained to them the soccer game and the fact that curiosity was almost begging them for answers.

“I forget the name of it.” Ashely eventually said, our friend nodding in agreement. I had enough common sense to realise that something was off, but the majority of them were theater kids and I was biased in their favor. My inquiring mind was not be ignored though and I turned around to ask Matt, still busy chasing Marge. He shouted that he didn’t know and continued his antics.

The bell rang and the two girls continued to tease me whenever I would ask what was going on. As the school day progressed I learned that no one else could supply me with anymore information.

Eventually the hours bled together and I found myself at the soccer field, plays and deceitful smiles forgotten. When I saw Marge warming up I was reminded and inquired why she wasn’t with the rest of the friend group. She shrugged and told me she’d rather play soccer.

The game itself did not prove to be memorable, we lost and I rolled my ankle partway through, but I joined back in the game eventually. Back in the car I was surprised to receive a text from Marge. Everyone’s at Matt’s birthday party, that’s what everyone was being secretive about. I didn’t go, because I didn’t want you to feel left out. Srry. I couldn’t hear, I couldn’t breathe, all I could do was quietly cry. When my parents asked what was wrong I simply told them my ankle was hurting and promised to ice it at home.

Once inside, I decided to tell my Mother. Sobbing I explained what had happened and fell against her chest, hot, wet tears streaking my face and her shirt. She told me that the situation sucked and assured me that I didn’t deserve what had happened. I still don’t believe her about that part.

Part of me wanted to slap myself for being so stupid and worrying over such a silly problem. I told myself that those people weren’t my real friends and that I could simply start over, that I didn’t need them. Part of me wanted to show up to his house with a belated birthday gift stuttering apologies for not giving this to him sooner. I’d act innocent, as if I did not know they had all gathered to celebrate there. The mouths of my peers would drop open and they’d share worried glances with each other. I would feign disbelief at the sight before me and run out crying. His parents would scold him and the rest would feel bad for teasing me. The final third of me decided I was thirteen, nearly fourteen, and therefore too old and haughty to care about a party strung up with balloons. I was a teenager and with that title comes the conclusion that streamers and cake are a thing of the past.

After dragging myself through the next two days, Monday finally arrived. All I wanted was for everything to go back to normal. If need be I would be as nice as possible to them and beg for forgiveness for whatever I had done wrong.

What I didn’t expect was for neither Matt nor Ashley to sit with me first period as usual, deciding on a table in the back, whispering and talking throughout class. Everyone else walked around me as though I was a baby deer, unable to run away, but too fragile to approach. I have always been stubborn though and sat everyone down to talk things out and plead my case. They were my only friends in the school and I desperately wanted to fit in. We were the school’s outcasts, the “weirdos” if you will, and I was terrified that even they, the most accepting and caring people in school, didn’t want me.

The general context of the meeting consisted of apologies from everyone, a few held back tears, and the idea to just forget that anything ever happened.

It’s been almost half a year and I still try to appeal to them when they’re around. I pretend to be happier, make sure I’m not loud, and be enthusiastic about whatever words come out of their mouths. I didn’t care that I wasn’t invited to a birthday party, I cared that they teased me about it and that Matt didn’t have the courage to just handle the situation himself. I like to pretend that I don’t still feel a pang of hurt from time to time when I see them.