AT 1:29 on Wednesday. I had been invited to my new friend Brandon’s birthday party. I’d always wanted a best friend, and Brandon had real best-friend potential. First, he had no allergies. Next, he was a great baseball player. Plus he wasn’t afraid of the dark. Not to mention he had a giant trampoline in his backyard. The birthday party was at 1:30. My mom had said I looked tired, plus I had a bad sunburn from my day at the beach with Cousin Seymour, which had turned out to be really fun because we kept throwing a stick in the water and my dog would fetch it and bring it back by bodysurfing the wave no matter how far out we threw it. Mom told me to rest before the party, so I climbed up to my tree house and lay down on the old air mattress with no air in it. There was a cool breeze and a weird tinkling from the wind chimes, and I fell asleep. My mom thought I had gone to my room, so when it came time to wake me up for the party she went in there. She thought I was that big lump on the bed, but when she shook it she realized that it was just my covers all bunched up from where I had forgotten to make it that morning.
