Chapter 1: Happy Birthday

25 April 2017 [Tues]

^♫Happy birthday to you,
happy birthday... ^♫

As I awoke on my 18ᵀᴴ birthday those simple lyrics came not from my family, but from my iPhone. I had made that ringtone and assigned it to the alarm for this morning. My family was not big on celebrations; not big on family gatherings of any kind. Dad had been the only one that could keep my sisters and I in line, and he died just before my 10ᵀᴴ birthday. I hadn’t had a decent birthday since. My grandfather could barely keep us from going completely off the rails but after he died of a stroke two and a half years later, no one, not even my mother, could do anything except keep the seven of us apart as best she could.

Most of my sisters and I weren’t troublemakers or delinquents, we just hated each other. A single misspoken word, accidental bump, or poorly timed laugh would, with a few exceptions, snowball until we were at each other’s throats. Rachel and I would rarely get involved, unless we started it.

Over the years Mom had developed a system to keep us apart. We ate all our meals buffet style, usually not even two siblings at the table at a time. The family trust maintained a town car and minivan, but in order to spread us out when going to school, Mom had bought a second minivan. Since then, Alison had aged out, received her portion of the trust, and moved out of town; and Heather had married out at 16 to get her inheritance and bought a house near the school with her husband.

By the time “Happy Birthday” had finished playing, I had already turned my mind to the day’s events and my birthday plans. My sisters, the four still at home, would be racing to be first in the bathrooms; so, I went to the kitchen to eat in peace. Mrs. Combs, our housekeeper, had prepared pancakes, bacon, and eggs. I was just finishing my breakfast as the day’s bathroom losers, Chantal and Angela, were getting to the kitchen. When avoiding your family makes your life better, you learn to eat quickly. Chantal and Angela would both be finished with breakfast before Rachel and Laura finished in the bathrooms.

After breakfast, I ran into Sally outside my room. Sally was fifteen years old, a cute but shy 5-foot 8, blue eyed, honey blonde, and I was pretty sure she had a crush on me. She is the older of Mrs. Combs’ two daughters and, since her mom’s job included an apartment on the property, I had known her all her life. Shortly after she turned 12 (I was barely 14 myself), she had started avoiding eye contact with me and would only speak to me in full sentences if she was passing on a message.

She was carrying a serving tray with biscuits and gravy (my favorite breakfast). “Is that for me?” I asked.

Sally continued to look at the tray as she responded. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t your mom tell me when I went to the kitchen to eat?”

She looked at me and then back to her feet. “Umm ... made it myself. Mom doesn’t know.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it tastes great, but I’m not very hungry anymore ... Why don’t you join me in my room, and help me eat it?”

She looked up again, this time with a smile; that smile took her from cute to beautiful. “‘kay.”

I opened my door and led her to my desk. It was a corner desk with a hutch against the wall, a free-standing wing, and a second chair for a study partner; it was here I helped her set up eat the breakfast she had made. We also shared a conversation that went way too long. I don’t know why, but we talked more in those 25 minutes than we had in the previous four years. I actually coaxed several complete sentences out of her. We talked so long I wasn’t able to see to the business I had planned on completing before school and I had to rush my shower to leave the house on time.

Rachel and I had appointments with the administrator of the family trust after school; so, Mom had told us to take the town car, which Mom usually drove to work, and that she would take her minivan. If I was going to complete my business before school, Rachel would have to drive, but If I asked her to, she would, obviously, refuse. I decided to use what I was sure would become my favorite part of my inheritance. “It’s MY birthday; I should be able to drive,” popped into her head.

“Since it’s my birthday, I’m going to drive.” Rachel said grabbing the keys. While I put on a show of grumbling and following her.

In the car I set to work. I had met with Mr. Gruffudd, our trust administrator, a few weeks ago to prepare for my inheritance. He gave me a secure tablet for signing contracts and other legal documents; it also had biometric features to verify my digital signature. Today was the first day I could sign anything legally binding, but I had prepared several items that now only needed that signature.

First, I needed to complete the creation of Thélisi Vending, Inc. The trust had done a lot of the prep work at my request, but only the oldest adult male beneficiary could do certain things with the trust; like starting a new business. I had submitted the final forms before we pulled into the student parking lot and in less than an hour I would be able to take the next step.

My first period was Study Hall. The first 20 minutes I spent on schoolwork. However, after I received confirmation that Thélisi Vending, Inc. had become a recognized business, I spent the rest of my time setting up bank accounts, signing contracts with the school district, paying to break their old vendor’s contract, hiring temps, and giving them instructions. It would be a week before the new vending services at all the other schools were running, but my school’s new vending services would be ready before lunch. I had made arrangements with the local Costco’s manager; enough vending machines, drinks, and snacks for South High were being held. TVI would also be buying our drinks and snacks there for the rest of the semester.

My second period was typical, but there was a multiple choice test third period. Which gives me a chance to explain another part of my family legacy. My family has been blessed with good luck. Is it cheating to be lucky? Either way, I have always tried to use this gift sparingly.

This is how luck works; real luck, as opposed to chance, acts through instinct and random events, like a dice roll or a coin flip. If I read the question and answers, and mark the answers I think are right, my score depends on how well I studied. However, if I just choose A, B, C, D, or sometimes E at random my score is 100%.

Fourth period was uneventful; which was noteworthy because Rachel and I were in the same class. And finally it was lunchtime! It was time to get myself a birthday present.

Phoebe Cooper was the sexiest girl at South High. She was five-foot nine, brunette, olive skinned, and blue eyed. She almost always wore a shirt that showed the lace of her bra, and a skirt just a smidgen shorter than the dress code required; yet, somehow, she was never sent home to change. She had a habit of promising sexual favors to us nerds for ‘help’ with her homework and then backing out, and my friends kept falling for it. I had never taken her offer; I had had several ‘study partners’ for ‘Sex Ed.’, and they could do their own schoolwork. However, I thought it was about time she learned to make good with her promises, and I could always use more ‘study’ time.

Phoebe came in with her cheer and dance team clique, no boys allowed. Her boyfriend and his jock clique had left campus for lunch, as usual. She and her dance team friends were always complaining about the number of carbs in the vending machines and school lunches, and the lack of fruit flavored diet sodas in the vending machines. Which was why I had one of the new vending machines stocked with low carb foods, and another stocked with both diet and regular fruit sodas. It is also why I had an insulated container of diet fruit sodas including a special bottle of diet strawberry soda–Phoebe’s favorite.