Santi: The Devil's Pioneer

Chapter 50 - Tenth Birthday Memories

*Emily's POV*

"1, 2, 3, blow your candles!" The crowd shirked and screamed, filling the room with joy and excitement. Emman blows all the candles off, grinning with two front teeth absent. He was always the happy child. The center of attention.

Meanwhile, here I was, to the side of the crowd, holding my own birthday cake. We had both gotten a sheet cake, big enough to have pictures of ourselves and our favorite cartoon characters in edible icing.

Emman's had a batman sprawled all over it. So did the room. it screamed blue and a boy's birthday bash.

I had a ballerina in a pink tutu. My nose was enlarged. My eyes weren't even grey. Yet somehow, the 'bakery' managed to screw all that up.

And even though it was a birthday party for us both, the day screamed Emman's name only. His friends from school and camp were here. Even my friends Jessica and Alexis were joining in on the fun, playing along in the crowd, leaving me behind completely.

"Honey, where's your mother?" An aunt says, approaching me and taking away the large sheet cake on my small, wobbly arms, smearing my large icing nose on the process.

"Daddy says she's still at work. She'll be home soon, Aunt Moira." I smile at the attentive attitude my aunt showed me. But alas, I could never have enough.

Emman jumps to the table after it had been emptied of the food contents, and raises his blue cape, much like Batman. His masks slowly start to unravel, but it doesn't stop him.

"I am Batman, the savior of mankind!" He screams, jumping off the table, and lunging towards the pool outside, with his toy sword raised forward.

"Emman, honey, you're gonna hurt yourself." Aunt Moira immediately rushes outside to fend after Emman. "Be careful."

Every other kid follows suit, leaving the adults to chatter up in the dining area. I stare blankly at the poster our parents made for us, displayed neatly in the large wall space in the dining area. It was a picture of Emman and me on our birthday last year. FOr our 9th birthday celebration, we had decided to skip the party at all and go to a paintball war instead. It was mostly Emman's idea and he had convinced me to join in to ensure our parents' approval. Of course, all his friends showed up since they thought it was cool. My girl friends, however, thought it lame. They were far too high brow for a party outdoors, they said. I was gloomy on that day, too.

This year, our parents loved the idea of a theme party. They had planned everything beforehand. Mom even claimed it was going to be perfect. Although I think they forgot to account for their presence.

Mom, apparently, was onto a fashion show in Japan. A once in a lifetime opportunity, other people said, trying to justify her actions.

"Emily, you look so gloomy in here. Why don't you join in on the fun with the other kids? I'm sure Joey and Patty would love to play with you." Another aunt approached me.

I was dressed up in a pink tutu, screaming elegance and classy. I cannot put it upon myself to filth up with these losers. But I was a polite kid who followed upon my mother's steps to being a good hostess. As such, I walk on over to the poolside and cough my way into a conversation between Joey and Patricia.

"Which do you like better, a rocket ship or a sumbarine?" Patty asks him.

Joey pauses to think and I took it as my cue to speak up.

"Of course, a rocket ship is always better. Wouldn't you just love to soar through the skies and fly to other planets?" I eagerly join in.

Patty sniffs, turns her head to me, and scoffs.

"I asked Joey," She mumbles, pulling on my tutu skirt.

This made me fly into a fury, but keeping up the hostess act, I smile brightly.

"Well, I'm sorry Patricia. But please do not pull on my tutu. It is a very pretty fabric and I don't want to ruin it." I tell her.

"Well, Patty, I can say I like the submarine better. I like to see sharks and monsters in the sea up close. It is very frightening but also really cool." Joey answers after they both ignored my remark. "Also, I think butting in on the conversation, especially when not asked to do so is very uncool, impolite, and rude!" Joey finishes his sentence by screaming the words right at me.

10-year-old me couldn't take being picked on and tears rush to my eyes. Just then, Emman runs to my side, pointing his toy sword at Joey and Patty.

"Anyone who has a problem with my twin sister has a problem with me," He threatens.

Everyone applauds his sweet and caring nature. But I dreaded it.