Everyone watched him.
He hated being the center of attention.
I expected him to freeze.
Instead, he picked up three colored cards.
Green.
Yellow.
Red.
He placed them in a row.
“Today is my birthday,” he said.
His voice wasn’t loud.
The room became so quiet it didn’t need to be.
“I am eighteen.”
Someone cheered.
Mason frowned toward the sound.
The room laughed softly.
“I don’t like random cheering.”
“Sorry,” Tyler called.
Mason nodded.
“It’s okay.”
More laughter.
Then Mason looked down at his cards.
“When I was eight, Tyler said his life was over.”
Tyler wiped his eyes.
“It wasn’t.”
“No,” Mason said. “He was incorrect.”
Everyone laughed again.
Mason continued.
“People are incorrect about that often.”
My heart squeezed.
“Sometimes they say everything is terrible when five things are terrible. Sometimes they say nobody cares when they mean the person they need does not care. Sometimes they say they cannot do something when they mean they cannot do it today.”
