The Precious Secret

"I'll be there by 8:30, promise."

"You said that last time, Derek. My family's putting a lot of effort into this dinner." I cradle my phone against my shoulder while applying mascara, trying not to smudge it for the third time.

"I know, I know. But I've got this thing with my dad first. Business stuff. You understand, right, babe?"

I sigh, watching my reflection in the mirror. "It's my eighteenth birthday, Derek. Just... don't be late, okay?"

"I won't. Got you something special too." There's a smile in his voice that still makes my stomach flip, even after six months together. Six months of my first real relationship, which feels like both forever and no time at all.

"It better be good," I tease, but my mind is already racing with possibilities. Derek Hudson is smart, popular, and somehow chose me. Sometimes I still can't believe it.

"Gotta go. See you tonight, Astrid."

After he hangs up, I stare at my phone, wondering if he'll actually be on time. Derek has a habit of running late, especially when his father needs him for "business training." I shouldn't complain—most girls would kill to date someone like him—but tonight is special.

My bedroom door flies open without warning. "Birthday girl!" My sister Naomi stands in the doorway, hands on hips, surveying my half-ready state with mock disapproval. "You're not even dressed yet? Vera texted me she'll be here in twenty minutes, and you know she's never late for a party."

"I'm getting there," I protest, gesturing at my face. "Makeup first, then dress."

Naomi walks in and sits on my bed, bouncing slightly. At twenty-four, she's everything I wish I could be—confident, talented, and fearless. "Is lover boy coming?"

"Derek said he'll be here by 8:30."

She raises an eyebrow. "So... 9:00, then?"

I throw a makeup sponge at her, which she deftly catches. "Shut up. He'll be on time."

"For your sake, I hope so." She stands and walks to my closet, pulling out the garment bag containing my birthday dress. "Now, are you ready to see this masterpiece again, or what?"

My heart skips. Naomi and Grandma spent weeks on this dress, working late into the night when they thought I was asleep. I'd caught glimpses during fittings, but yesterday was the first time I saw it completed.

She unzips the bag with theatrical slowness, revealing a shimmering champagne-colored gown. The fabric catches the light as she holds it up—a perfect A-line silhouette with a sweetheart neckline and delicate beading that Grandma painstakingly sewed by hand.

"It's even more beautiful than yesterday," I whisper, touching the fabric reverently.

"Try it on. I want to make sure the alterations are perfect."

Five minutes later, I'm standing before my mirror, barely recognizing myself. The dress transforms me from Astrid Farley, awkward math nerd, into someone elegant and mature.

"Dad would've been so proud," Naomi says softly, adjusting the straps.

A lump forms in my throat. Four years since the accident, and still, every milestone feels incomplete without him. "He would've taken a million photos and embarrassed me in front of everyone."

"And threatened to scare Derek with his shotgun collection," Naomi adds with a sad smile.

"That too." I laugh through the tears threatening to spill. "I miss him."

"Me too, Vic." She squeezes my shoulders. "But tonight's about celebrating. Eighteen is a big deal."

The doorbell's shrill ring interrupts our moment.

"That'll be Vera," I say, carefully wiping under my eyes to preserve my makeup.

"I'll get it. You finish getting ready." Naomi heads downstairs, her footsteps quick on the wooden stairs.

I hear Vera's distinctive laugh before I see her. A minute later, my bedroom door bursts open again, and there she stands—five-foot-four of pure energy with fiery red hair and an outfit that would give Grandma Farley heart palpitations.

"Happy birthday, bitch!" Vera announces, thrusting a glittery gift bag at me. "Open it now. It's not suitable for family viewing."

I peek inside and immediately close it again, my cheeks burning. "Vera! My grandmother is downstairs!"

"Relax, it's just lingerie. For when Derek finally gets past first base." She winks, then circles me, admiring the dress. "Holy shit, Naomi outdid herself. You look hot."

"Language," I remind her automatically, though it's pointless. Vera Palmer has been cursing since fifth grade when she learned the words from her mother's boyfriend of the month.

"Whatever. Is Camilla here yet?" Vera flops onto my bed, somehow managing to look graceful even while sprawling.

"Not yet. She texted that she's running late. Some charity thing with her parents."

Vera rolls her eyes. "Of course. The Sheltons and their perfect society image." She sits up suddenly. "But tonight, we're celebrating properly. I've got the club all planned out."

I groan. "Vera, we talked about this. I don't think—"

"Nope! No backing out. You're eighteen now. It's practically illegal not to go clubbing." She pulls up her dress to reveal a tiny outfit underneath. "See? Prepared."

This has been Vera's plan for weeks—dinner with family, then sneaking out to some club where her fake ID works. Camilla, surprisingly, agreed to it, though I suspect she just wants to keep Vera from getting into too much trouble.

"Fine," I concede. "But only for a little while. And Derek has to come too."

"Duh. The whole point is for you to have fun with your hot boyfriend." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Speaking of which, have you guys done it yet?"

"Vera!" I hiss, glancing at my open door.

"That's a no," she concludes, looking disappointed. "Seriously, Vic, what are you waiting for? You've been together six months."

"Not everyone jumps into bed on the first date," I remind her, thinking of Vera's notorious history with boys. She had her first kiss in fourth grade and lost her virginity before most of us had our first periods.

"Your loss." She shrugs. "Derek Hudson is grade-A boyfriend material. If you don't lock that down, someone else will."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes with a text from Camilla: Stuck in traffic. Be there by 8:15. Save me some appetizers.

"Camilla's running late," I tell Vera, who's now examining my makeup collection.

"Shocking," she says dryly. "Hey, can I borrow this?" She holds up my favorite lipstick.

"Sure, just don't use it all." I check the time—7:30. "We should go downstairs. Mom's been cooking all day."

Vera applies the lipstick with expert precision. "Lead the way, birthday girl."

Downstairs, the house has been transformed. Mom and Grandma have outdone themselves with decorations—fairy lights strung across the ceiling, photos of me through the years on the walls, and a table set with our best dishes. The smell of Mom's famous pot roast fills the air, making my mouth water.

"There she is!" Mom exclaims when she sees me. She wipes her hands on her apron and comes to hug me. "You look beautiful, honey."

Grandma Farley emerges from the kitchen, moving slower these days with her arthritis but still commanding respect with every step. "Astrid," she says, her eyes softening at the sight of me in the dress. "You're a vision."

Vera, who's been hovering behind me, steps forward. "Good evening, Mrs. Farley, Grandma Farley. Can I help with anything?"

Grandma Farley narrows her eyes, not entirely fooled by Vera's sudden politeness. "You can set the table, Vera. And no sneaking wine this time."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Vera says with angelic innocence that fools no one.

As Vera helps Mom in the dining room, Grandma beckons me closer. From her pocket, she produces a small velvet box. "I was going to wait until after dinner, but I want you to wear this tonight."

Inside is a delicate gold necklace with a small diamond pendant. "Grandma," I breathe. "It's beautiful."

"It was your mother's, and her mother's before that." She takes it out and fastens it around my neck with surprisingly steady hands. "Now it's yours."

I touch the pendant, feeling its weight against my skin. "Thank you."

The doorbell rings again. "That'll be Camilla," I say, but when I open the door, it's Derek standing there, looking handsome in a navy button-down and holding a small wrapped box.

"Happy birthday," he says, leaning in to kiss me. He smells like cologne and mint, and despite my earlier irritation, my heart races.

"You're early," I say, surprised.

He grins. "Told you I wouldn't be late."

I lead him inside, where Vera immediately pounces. "Derek! Looking good. Astrid was just telling me how excited she is about tonight."

Derek gives me a questioning look. "Tonight?"

"Vera wants us to go to a club after dinner," I explain, shooting her a warning glance.

"Sounds fun," he says easily, handing me the gift. "Open it."

Inside is a silver bracelet with a small heart charm. It's pretty, if a bit generic. "It's lovely," I say, slipping it on. "Thank you."

"There's more to your gift," he whispers in my ear. "But that's for later."

The doorbell rings again, and this time it is Camilla, looking immaculate as always in a designer dress that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.

"Sorry I'm late," she says, air-kissing my cheeks. "Traffic was a nightmare, and Mother insisted I bring the chauffeur." She hands me a perfectly wrapped package. "Happy birthday, Astrid."

Our trio is complete now—Vera the wild one, Camilla the sophisticated one, and me somewhere in between. We've been friends since elementary school, bound together by circumstance and choice. Sometimes I wonder what keeps us together, given how different we are, but on nights like this, I remember.

"Dinner's ready!" Mom calls from the dining room.

As we gather around the table—my small, imperfect family and my mismatched friends—I feel a surge of gratitude. Eighteen years of life, with all its ups and downs, has led to this moment.

Derek squeezes my hand under the table. "Happy birthday, Astrid," he murmurs.

For now, everything feels perfect. The club can wait. The future can wait. Tonight is about celebrating with the people I love, even if one important person is missing.

As Mom brings out the cake with eighteen candles blazing, I make a silent wish for my father to somehow know I'm thinking of him. Then I take a deep breath and blow out the candles, ready to step into adulthood with both excitement and trepidation.

Vera leans over as everyone claps. "Just wait till later," she whispers with a mischievous grin. "The real celebration is just beginning."

I smile back, caught between the comfort of family tradition and the allure of new adventures. Eighteen feels like standing on the edge of a cliff—terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Whatever happens next, at least I won't face it alone.