Chapter 1 - Next Year Will Be Your TurnHallie was still smiling when Brett tore the wrapping paper away.
That was the part her mother would remember later.
Not the balloons.
Not the chocolate cake with two names written across the frosting.
Not the expensive gaming setup hidden inside the enormous box.
Hallie’s smile.
She was seven years old that afternoon, exactly the same age as Brett because they had entered the world eleven minutes apart.
Brett first.
Hallie second.
Their mother used to joke that Brett had been impatient and Hallie had already been making him wait.
Today, nobody joked about the eleven minutes.
“Whoa!”
Brett pulled the final piece of wrapping paper aside.
His eyes widened.
“No way!”
The gaming setup was exactly the one he had talked about for months—a high-end console, specialized controller, headset, and monitor.
Their father laughed.
“Happy birthday, buddy.”
Brett threw his arms around him.
“Thank you!”
Their mother raised her phone and began taking pictures.
Hallie clapped.
She really was happy for him.
She had watched Brett draw pictures of the system. She had heard him talk about the games he wanted to play.
Then Stanley stepped forward.
Their maternal grandfather wore a proud smile.
He placed one hand on Brett’s head.
“You deserve a really special day.”
Brett beamed.
Hallie looked at the table.
The cake.
Paper plates.
Empty space.
She looked beneath the table.
Nothing.
Maybe hers was somewhere else.
Maybe their parents were doing that thing adults did when they pretended there was no surprise.
Hallie waited.
Brett put on the headset.
Their father helped connect a cable.
Mother took another picture.
Stanley laughed.
Hallie looked toward the hallway.
No one was coming with another box.
Her smile began disappearing.
“Dad?”
Her father looked up.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
Hallie swallowed.
“Where’s my present?”
The room changed.
Not dramatically.
Nobody gasped.
Nobody dropped anything.
But her father stopped moving.
Her mother lowered the phone slightly.
Hallie looked between them.
“It’s my birthday too…”
Her father opened his mouth.
Stanley answered first.
“This year, we’re making today about Brett.”
Hallie turned toward him.
The words made no sense.
“What about me?”
Stanley’s smile had disappeared.
He sounded calm.
Almost bored.
“Next year will be your turn.”
Hallie stared.
Next year.
An entire year.
She looked at her mother.
Surely Mom would laugh and say Grandpa was teasing.
Mother looked away.
Hallie looked at her father.
He touched the back of his neck.
“Hallie…”
Stanley turned back toward Brett.
“Come on. Let’s get this thing set up.”
And somehow that was the end of the conversation.
Brett had not mocked Hallie.
He did not even fully understand what had happened.
He was seven.
He was holding something he had dreamed about for months, and every adult around him was excited.
Hallie slowly stepped backward.
Nobody stopped her.
She walked into the hallway.
The living room remained visible from there.
Brett sat between their parents.
Stanley leaned over the monitor.
Mother took pictures.
Father laughed when Brett struggled with the controller.
Hallie clasped her hands in front of her.
Her eyes began burning.
She did not cry loudly.
She knew that would make everyone look.
And somehow she no longer wanted them to.
A tear gathered along her lower eyelid.
Then another.
Behind her stood a narrow console table decorated with family photographs.
Hallie looked at one.
Her and Brett at four.
Matching pajamas.
Matching birthday crowns.
Same-size cupcakes.
She remembered asking why they always got two cupcakes instead of sharing one.
Her mother had said, “Because you’re twins, not one person.”
Hallie looked back into the living room.
Apparently today they were not two people either.
Today there was Brett.
And there was whoever was watching him celebrate.
Brett suddenly turned.
For one second, his eyes met Hallie’s.
His smile faded slightly.
“Hallie?”
Stanley touched his shoulder.
“Try the racing game.”
Brett looked back toward the screen.
Hallie waited.
Nobody else turned.
She walked upstairs.
Her bedroom door closed softly.
There were no balloons inside.
No hidden box.
No card.
Nothing.
Hallie sat on the edge of her bed.
Only then did she let herself cry.
Downstairs, laughter continued.
She could hear it through the floor.
Her eyes landed on the birthday dress her mother had helped her choose that morning.
Yellow.
Hallie had asked, “Do Brett and I both look special?”
Her mother had answered, “Of course.”
Hallie wiped her cheek.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened.
Brett stepped inside.
His headset hung around his neck.
“Why are you up here?”
Hallie stared at him.
“Because they forgot me.”
“They didn’t forget.”
That hurt more.
Brett immediately realized it.
“I mean…”
Hallie looked away.
“They remembered.”
Brett sat beside her.
He was quiet.
Then he said, “You can play my game.”
Hallie shook her head.
“I don’t want your present.”
“I can share.”
“That’s not the same.”
Brett looked confused.
Hallie whispered:
“They chose you.”
“What?”
“Grandpa said today was about you.”
Brett looked toward the floor.
“He says lots of stuff.”
“Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.”
Brett had no answer.
Hallie wiped another tear.
Then she asked the question neither seven-year-old understood yet.
“Why does Grandpa like you more?”
Brett opened his mouth.
But before he could answer, Stanley’s voice came from the hallway.
“Brett.”
Both children looked toward the door.
Stanley stood there.
His eyes moved from Hallie’s wet face to Brett beside her.
“Your father needs help downstairs.”
Brett hesitated.
“I’m talking to Hallie.”
Stanley’s expression tightened almost invisibly.
“Brett.”
This time it was not a request.
Brett slowly stood.
Before leaving, he looked back at his sister.
“I’ll come back.”
Stanley waited until Brett had stepped into the hallway.
Then he looked at Hallie.
Not angry.
Not ashamed.
Calm.
That was worse.
“You need to stop making your brother feel guilty for enjoying his birthday.”
Hallie stared at him.
“My birthday.”
Stanley said nothing.
Hallie’s voice trembled.
“It’s my birthday too.”
For the first time, something appeared in Stanley’s expression.
Not guilt.
Annoyance.
“You’re going to have to learn that life doesn’t always divide everything equally.”
Then he closed the door.
May you like
Hallie sat alone.
And downstairs, her twin brother’s birthday celebration continued.
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