I told my parents I didn't want a party.
They heard: let's invite the entire church, order twenty chairs, and force Senna to smile under a streamer that says BLESSED & BEAUTIFUL in cursive.
So here I am.
In a too-bright living room filled with grown-ups I barely know, plastic forks, and Bear trying to climb the back of the couch like it's a mountain.
Auggie is under the table hoarding Capri Suns like we're prepping for apocalypse.
And me? I'm in a pastel dress I didn't pick, standing beside a cake I didn't ask for, trying not to look like I'm waiting.
Except I am waiting.
For the people who said "I'll definitely come!"
For the girls from school who swore we were "like, basically friends."
For someone who doesn't just show up out of obligation.
---
At 4:30, India and Egypt arrive.
Like hurricanes in Jordans.
India practically kicks the door open. "We brought Doritos and good vibes!"
Egypt follows, holding a tote bag like it contains the meaning of life. "And gifts. Obviously."
I nearly melt.
They don't go to my school. Never have. But they're the only ones who always, always show up.
India squints around the room. "Where's the crowd?"
I shrug. "Stuck in traffic, probably."
Egypt gives me a long look. "Do I need to fight someone?"
"No fighting today," I murmur. "Just… exist with me."
"Always," they say in unison, and we fall into our rhythm. Loud, sarcastic, warm.
Auggie peeks out from under the table and yells, "INDIAAAAAAA!"
"MY BABY!" India screams, dropping to her knees and opening her arms. He runs into them like a missile. "I missed your whole face."
Bear walks past with a handful of cake. "They're all dramatic."
He's not wrong.
---
The music changes. My parents start pulling out party games like this is 2011. I hide in the corner with Egypt, trying to open a juice box with one hand, when the doorbell rings.
"I GOT IT," Bear announces, already sprinting.
I don't even look up. Probably another adult who calls me "Such a strong girl!" in that weird voice.
Then Bear yells, "Sennaaaaaaa! It's Stair Boy!"
I drop the juice box.
India freezes.
Egypt straightens like a meerkat. "I'm sorry — who?"
I walk slowly to the door like I'm approaching a wild animal.
And there he is.
Luca.
In jeans and a black sweatshirt, hair a little messy, holding the smallest, flattest gift bag I've ever seen. He looks like he doesn't know if he's supposed to smile or apologize.
"Hi," he says.
I blink. "How did you…?"
"Your mom posted the invite in that weird church group chat."
Of course she did.
"You came."
He shrugs, then smiles. "You said you didn't want balloons. You never said anything about cake."
Behind me, India's whispering to Egypt: "That's him. That's the one. You can tell by the way she's blushing and glitching."
"I know right she totally has a crush."
Auggie marches up to Luca and demands, "Did you bring backflip skills this time?"
"No, but I brought stickers."
Auggie gasps. "Acceptable."
Bear narrows his eyes. "Do you like mangoes?"
"Love them."
He nods slowly. "Hmm. Suspicious."
Luca just grins like he's passed some sort of absurd trial.
---
I pull him into the living room, cheeks burning, but weirdly… relieved. Not because I wanted him here — but because now he is.
India and Egypt trail us like twin bodyguards, eyes locked on him like he might be a threat to national security.
I sigh.
"Luca meet India and Egypt. India and Egypt meet Luca, aka stairboy."
Finally, India bursts.
"So. You're Luca."
He blinks. "I am?"
"You're the stair guy. The one who makes her do that soft smile she pretends she doesn't have."
He glances at me. I'm glaring at the floor.
"Guilty," he says.
And just like that, they soften.
India throws an arm around his shoulders. "If you hurt her, I will throw glitter in your mouth while you sleep."
Egypt nods. "And then sue you for emotional damage."
"Duly noted."
---
Later, after cake and a very aggressive game of Uno, we sit on the porch steps.
It's quieter now. Auggie's asleep on the couch, clutching his sticker pack like treasure. Bear's trading cake crumbs for juice boxes with India.
I lean into Luca's shoulder.
"You didn't have to come," I say.
"I know."
"But I'm… really glad you did."
He smiles, soft and real. "You make it easy to show up."
And suddenly — for the first time today — the party doesn't feel like something done to me.
It feels like something I got to keep.