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TIM WOKE UP
early on Thursday. There was no school because of some teacher study day, so he figured he’d sleep in. But the smells wafting down the stairs from the kitchen overwhelmed him and made his eyes open. He looked at the clock and rolled over, then stuffed a pillow over his head. The morning sun was bright through the slats of the window blinds.

When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he got out of the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at himself in the mirror. He needed a haircut. He needed some of that medicine Jamie used for her acne—though she had none compared to him. He needed to work out more. He looked skinny, even to himself.

He dressed and shoved a #14 hat over his bed hair. If he didn’t take a
shower, his hair stood up in the back and made him look like a walking chicken.

He was surprised to hear more voices than just Dale’s and Mrs. Maxwell’s in the kitchen. Jamie was saying something to Kellen when Tim turned the corner into the kitchen and almost took his head off on a streamer stretched across the doorway. Everybody stopped talking and looked at him like he was some kind of alien. Eggs were on a hot plate, sausage and bacon were sizzling in the pan, and there were pancakes and fresh syrup from one of the little stands alongside the road. Of course, Mrs. Maxwell also had a big bowl of fresh fruit on the table—bananas and strawberries and grapes and pineapple and even kiwis. That’s what Jamie was munching on.

Tim looked around at the kitchen like it was some foreign country. Usually they didn’t eat breakfast together because of their different schedules. Then he saw it. Above the light hanging over the middle of the table was a sign saying, Happy Birthday.

Dale started the song, and the others laughed at how off-key he was. When they got to “Happy birthday, dear Tim . . . ,” Tim started laughing and shaking his head.

“What’s the matter?” Dale said. “Think we’d forget?”

“It’s not that I thought you’d forget,” Tim said. “I didn’t even remember.”

“You forgot your own birthday?” Kellen said.

“We didn’t make much of it when I was with my dad,” Tim said. “We’d have dinner out, maybe, and he’d usually buy me something. . . .”

Tim’s voice trailed off as he thought of his birthday a year ago. He’d gone to his father’s funeral. Charlie Hale had delivered the rest of Tim’s belongings from the hauler. Tyson and Vera picked him up afterward, apologizing for not making it to the service. Something about car problems and taking a wrong turn, but both of them were dressed for an all-day picnic, not a funeral. Then the long drive to the Slades’ place.

“I made all your favorites,” Mrs. Maxwell said, putting a plate at the end of the table. She poured him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and uncovered a dish of hash browns that were dark and crunchy the way Tim liked them. They were lightly salted and peppered and ready to douse with ketchup.

“Wow,” Tim said. “I’ve never even seen a breakfast like this at a restaurant. I can’t wait until dinner.”

Kellen ran into the living room and came back with a package. “Can he open it now?”

“Let’s let him eat first,” Dale said. “We’ll open presents later.”

“Oh, come on, Dad,” Kellen pleaded. “Just one?
Please?” He begged like a puppy that needed to go outside really bad.

“Go ahead, Dad,” Jamie said. “It’s just one present.”

“You want to open one?” Dale said.

Tim shrugged. “There’s more than one?”

Dale nodded to Kellen and he handed it to Tim. Tim opened it gingerly, but Kellen obviously couldn’t stand that because he edged in, ripping the paper and throwing it around the room.

“Whoa,” Tim said, pulling out a shiny jacket. On the back it said, Velocity High School.

“You’ve been here long enough to show some school spirit,” Kellen said.

“Put it on,” Jamie said.

“I don’t want to get ketchup on it.”

“Silly, you can take it off again before you eat.”

“Okay.” Tim put it on and everybody clapped. He bowed, trying to remember when he’d ever had this much attention.

Tim ate until he felt like his stomach would pop. Then Dale drove them to the local go-kart track. He paid for an all-day pass and even got in and raced Tim, Kellen, and Jamie. At lunchtime, Mrs. Maxwell brought subs, and Dale had to head over to Lowe’s Motor Speedway with the crew.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Dale said.

Tim shook hands with him. “I really appreciate this. It’s . . . well, a lot more than I expected.”

Dale smiled. “You deserve a celebration. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

JAMIE FELT
comfortable around Tim, not as a boyfriend or romantic interest but as a younger brother who knew a lot about racing. After all, he was a year and a half younger than her—an eternity to people her age—and he wasn’t as annoying as Kellen. She loved her younger brother and would defend him like a mother lion, but she also got tired of him at times.

Jamie wanted to give Tim something for his birthday but couldn’t think of anything good. Her mom suggested she take him to the opening of a new action movie. It was a true guy flick with a few car chases and lots of explosions, but Jamie didn’t mind those. She invited Cassie along too.

“Jamie’s got a date!” Kellen said when he found out at dinner.

Jamie could have twisted the little runt’s arm off right there, but she held
her tongue. “Not a date, just a present. Cassie’s springing for ice cream afterward.”

Tim looked a little uneasy.

“You want to go, don’t you?” she said.

“Yeah, sure. I’ve been wanting to see it.”

He said it in a convincing way, but somehow Jamie picked up that he was a little nervous.

They ate dinner with the family, and Tim opened his other presents. One was a collectable die-cast car he’d mentioned to her dad, and another was an updated cell phone with the coolest design she’d ever seen. It was thinner than Tim’s black comb he kept in his back pocket, and it looked like a car dashboard when it was opened.

Her mom handed Tim a heavy, book-shaped box. “This is from all of us.”

Tim opened it and pulled out a devotional book for NASCAR fans with a bright cover. He flipped through it and thanked her, then picked up a new Bible, the same kind that Jamie used. Tim opened the front flap and read what her mom had inscribed there. “‘To Tim, from the Maxwells, with all our love.’

“Thank you,” Tim said. “I’ve never had a Bible of my own, except the old ratty one of my dad’s. This is real nice.” There was an uncomfortable silence, and Tim looked at each of them and fumbled with the Bible and the devotional, trying to get them back in
the box. When he did, he shifted from one foot to the other in an awkward dance. Then he kind of smiled, though he tried hard not to show his front teeth for some reason.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a day like this one. I had a lot of fun with you guys. And I don’t know why you all are so nice to me. I probably don’t say thank you enough. But I appreciate it.”

There were tears in her mom’s eyes. She smoothed the tablecloth out, dabbed at an eye, and went over to Tim and hugged him. When she pulled back, her eyes were red. “Happy birthday, Timmy.”

Kellen sighed. “I thought this was supposed to be a party, not a boo-hoo fest.”

That made Tim laugh, and Dale came over and put an arm around him. “We’re proud of you, Tim. Now you two better get going and pick up Cassie.”

Jamie grabbed her keys and tried to wipe her eyes so no one would see her. “We’ll be back a little late.”

“Oh, Tim, I almost forgot,” her mom said. “Some mail came for you today. I’ll just put it on your bed, and you can see it when you get back.”

TIM SAT UP
front until they got to Cassie’s house. It was a nice place with white shutters, a picket fence, and flowers growing out of every pot on the front porch. It looked like there were flowers growing everywhere.

“Cassie’s parents will want to say hello,” Jamie said. “Why don’t you go in with me?”

“We gonna make the movie on time? I like to see the trailers.”

“We’re fine,” Jamie said.

“Okay.” Tim went to the porch, and the smell was like walking into one of those candle stores at the mall. It smelled so good that he wanted to bottle the aroma and sell it to little old ladies who loved flowers.

The Strowers were nice people with nice clothes and nice smiles. They even had a nice dog who didn’t bark, and Tim
wondered if it was a Christian dog. It just sat there looking at him with floppy ears and didn’t move—except for his tail. Big eyes studying Tim like it knew he wasn’t one of “them” and that he’d probably never crack open that Bible the Maxwells gave him except maybe to make people think he was reading it.

They chatted for a few minutes. Then Cassie said they should be going.

Tim opened the car door for her and Cassie said she’d sit in the back, but Tim beat her to the seat. When she got in, Cassie turned and handed him a card. He tried not to roll his eyes or anything, but he could guess what kind of card it would be. Probably a picture of Jesus on the front with his arms open, begging Tim to become a Christian. Or maybe a picture of an eagle that said, “Soar for the Lord!” Or a card that said a donation had been made in his name for some missionary in Tora Bora. Something like that.

He opened it and found a simple card that said “Happy Birthday” on a cake. Inside was a gift card to an online NASCAR store. Cassie had written a note on the blank space.

Tim,

I hope you have a great birthday. Enjoy your gift card. Thanks for being a friend. I love it when you talk in church.

Your friend, Cassie

Tim felt goose bumps down his back. No special verse for him. No prayer for his soul. Just a heartfelt message. Cassie was one of those sold-out Christians who Tim thought at first was only interested in getting him to come to church and be like them, but the more he hung around with her, the more it seemed like she really liked him. He could count on one hand the number of people who fell into that category, outside the Maxwells.

“Thanks,” Tim said, slipping the gift card into his wallet. “This is great.”

“Splurge on yourself,” Cassie said. “Get those #14 woolly socks.”

They were inside the #1 theater when Tim asked if either wanted popcorn or something to drink. He said he’d be right back.

I can’t believe I’m sitting with two gorgeous girls,
Tim thought.
Some birthday.

He checked the board above the concessions stand and couldn’t believe the prices. He and his dad hadn’t gone to many movies, but when they did, his dad would never buy popcorn or candy because he said it was so expensive. Tim always thought his dad was just being cheap, but now he knew why the man carried Raisinets in his pocket into the theater. He
couldn’t go back empty-handed, though, or Jamie and Cassie would think
he
was cheap.

“Can I help you?” the girl behind the counter said.

Tim looked at the prices again. The difference between a small and a huge popcorn was only a couple of dollars, so he went ahead and bought a bucket and hoped Cassie and Jamie would share some. He got a few pushes of butter too, handed over his money, and jammed the change in his pocket.

As he turned to head back to the theater, he bumped into a black-jacketed guy with sunglasses and spilled most of his popcorn. Butter dripped on the guy’s boots, which Tim guessed cost more than all the popcorn in the place.

“So you’re clumsy
and
a cheater,” Chad Devalon said. He hadn’t seen how many butter spots were on his boots or his jeans that looked so tight Tim didn’t know how the guy could breathe.

“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” Tim said.

Chad finally noticed the butter on his pants and his boots and jumped back, cursing. He grabbed a few napkins from a dispenser and bent over, trying to wipe the spots away, but it didn’t do any good.

“You are such a loser,” Chad muttered, gritting his teeth. He stood up and slapped the popcorn tub out of Tim’s hands, scattering the rest on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” a girl said, coming from the bath
room area. She had a dark complexion, and Tim thought he recognized her but couldn’t place her face.

“This loser ruined my new boots,” Chad said. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He put his arm around the girl, then glanced back at Tim. “Take a good look at him, Rosa. That kid’s going to jail. Just like his mommy.”

Tim’s heart raced. He wanted to run after Chad, jump on him from behind, and smash his face into the carpet. Instead, he watched them leave the theater and walk to the valet, who went for Chad’s car. Then Tim bent over and scooped up the popcorn on the floor and tossed it in the trash.

The trailers were on when Tim got back to his seat, but he couldn’t concentrate on them. Some Western with a megastar, a romantic comedy people laughed at, and a little girl with a magic dog.

Jamie leaned over to him. “What about the popcorn?”

Rosa’s face and her voice kept going through Tim’s mind. “Not hungry,” he said.

Tim couldn’t focus on the movie. Even the chase scenes couldn’t take away the sting of Chad’s words.

Afterward, they had ice cream at one of those fancy places where they put candy bars and peanuts in your ice cream and mix it together on a cutting board.

When they got home, he thanked Jamie.

“Did you like the movie?” she said.

“Yeah, it was good. A great ending to my day.” Tim went to his room and flipped on the light. The Bible and the devotional book were there on top of his other gifts. Beside them were three pieces of mail. The top one was from Charlie Hale, the hauler driver he’d spent a lot of time with at the track. It was a goofy card supposed to make you laugh, but Tim didn’t. Inside Charlie had written, “Happy 15th birthday, Tim.” A $10 and a $5 bill fell onto the bed.

He’s only a year off,
Tim thought.

The second card had a return address from Florida. It had a race car on the front with a #16 on it. Inside was a note written in fancy handwriting, the kind Tim always wished he had but knew he never would. It was so curvy and curly he had to concentrate in order to read it.

Dear Tim,

I’m hoping the move to North Carolina has been a good one for you. I talked with Mrs. Maxwell the other day, and she told me how well you’re doing in school, that you have a job with the team, and that you’ve become part of their family. I couldn’t be happier for you.

I hope this is a great birthday and that one day my husband and I will get to come
to a race where you’re working or driving or whatever it is you would do.

God bless and happy birthday.

Lisa

Lisa was the social worker who had spent time with Tim and had arranged the move to the Maxwells’. She was one person who had made his stay in Florida better.

The last letter had no return address, but the postmark was from somewhere called Sylacauga, Alabama. He didn’t know anybody from there and couldn’t imagine who it would be from.

It was another card, one of those kinds that plays a song when you open the front flap. This one played a tune from a current superhero movie. He smiled, then looked at the bottom.

Timmy,

I saw you at the Talladega race. I’m so proud of you for going back there. That must have been hard. I hope your birthday was everything you wanted it to be.

I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Mom