Alphabet Soup.

“I really wish your mom and dad didn’t get stuck in New York.”

Turning from the microwave with a plate with two poptarts on it, Joe’s eyes fell on the thirteen year old girl sitting on the table. She stared at him, expectantly, with her eyes only half open. The older boy set the plate on the table and pushed it towards her. The girl raised her eyebrow and took one from the table, taking a small bite out of it.

“We’re still gonna have an awesome day,” he muttered, pulling out a seat for himself.

“Your mom was supposed to make me a special birthday cake,” she argued, glaring at him. “And the only thing you can make are poptarts,” she said, waving the one in her hand around. Then she nodded to a bowl at the far end of the table, half filled with cereal and overflowing with milk. “You can’t even prepare a bowl of cereal.”

“That’s what you think,” Joe simple replied, standing up. He went over to the stove, stirring a spoon that was already inside the pot. “I’m going to make you the best birthday lunch – in the world.”

“Joe?”

“Yeah?” He stopped, glancing briefly at her.

“The pot’s empty,” she stated. “And you’re stirring a spoon in it.”

Joe immediately dropped what he was doing, hiding his hands behind his back, afraid that he’d do something stupid again. He frowned at the teenage girl; at least he was making as effort. But she just smiled.

“And besides, don’t you think the world is a bit of a big ambition for you?”

Joe scoffed, quickly grabbing a ladle from the drawer closest to him, and he began to scoop alphabet soup into the bowl.

She was right, Joe couldn’t cook. Once in the process of muffin-making, he set off the fire alarm. That wasn’t exactly promising. But when Joe’s parents called to inform them that their flight got delayed, Joe had to think of something.

He set the steamy bowl in front of the birthday girl, a smug look on his face. He stepped back to look at the soup; he had cleverly spelled out ‘Happy Birthday!’ with the alphabet soup. He was sure she’d love it.

But when she didn’t respond and just continued to stare at the bowl with a blank expression, Joe started to doubt himself. Maybe, he thought, he could be break out in the birthday song.

“Well?” he asked. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s great,” the girl said sarcastically. “It’s just that… you pulled this trick on Frankie when he was six and on me when I was nine.” This time she rolled her eyes. The letters began to float away from each other when she dropped a spoon into it.

Joe huffed and ran out of the kitchen and into the garage and into the cool storage area. Carefully lifting a a small crate, he walked back into the house. Before he could say the whole alphabet soup was a joke, the animal inside it barked. The girl looked up and her eyes were wide. She jumped off of her seat and ran to the other boy.

He set the crate down and opened it with a smile.

She laughed, “You got me a puppy?”

“Yes, I got you a puppy.”

Then she glared, “And alphabet soup – what the hell is up with that?”

“It was a joke,” he said, taking the puppy out of its place and giving it to the girl’s arms.

After a while she looked up at him sheepishly. Joe looked back with a grin. “Thanks, I guess,” she muttered, almost afraid to act nice towards the other boy. She set the puppy down and looked away, pulling her arms out.

Joe leaned in, wrapping his arms around the middle of her body. “Happy Birthday, buddy.”