Chapter Text
—
September, 1996.
—
“Backpack?”
“Check.”
“Lunchbox?”
“Check.”
“Pencil case?”
A pause.
“Hello? Pencil case?”
“Oh. Sorry, urm- yes, check.”
“You’re useless at this,” Shane’s mum sighs, dropping her checklist onto the table with a loud thunk.
Shane was sitting on a chair across from his parents, his legs swinging underneath the table, back and forth, back and forth. The familiar movement calming Shane’s worry for his big day tomorrow.
His first day of kindergarten.
He had never been anywhere near a school before; his parents had only recently decided to send him to kindergarten, to get him ‘used’ to school before Grade 1 starts.
“Yuna, we’ve been through that list over twenty times now,” Shane’s dad replied, lowering his gaze back to the newspaper in front of him and letting out a faint chuckle.
“I need to make sure everything is here!” She defended before turning to Shane, "we just want you to have a good first day, don’t we, honey?”
Shane gave a small nod, causing a strand of hair to fall into his eyes.
His mum laughed softly at him, “I think we need to do something about that hair, Shane.”
Shane immediately stilled. He pushed the hair back into place, shaking his head firmly.
“Okay, okay,” she smiled gently. “Not today, honey. No haircut.”
Shane relaxed, his legs starting to swing again beneath the table.
Everything would change tomorrow.
A new place. New grown-ups. New children. New rules to learn and remember.
The thought made his tummy feel weird.
Maybe he would make a friend?
He wasn’t entirely sure what having a friend was supposed to be like. Most of the time, he was by himself. If he had company, there was only his mum, dad, his toys or the neighbour’s cat who sometimes wandered into their garden and let him stroke its soft fur. Sometimes, Shane would see his grandparents, but that was usually at Christmas.
He looked down at the items spread across the table, eyes focusing on his new backpack. It was blue. Shane liked the colour blue; his bed sheets, his favourite books covers, and his special teddy were all blue. He wasn’t so sure about the bag itself though. Everytime he touched it, the rough fabric made his skin feel like little bugs from the garden were crawling all over him. He had tried not to touch it, unless he had to.
His thoughts were interrupted when his mum started packing the bag.
Shane watched as she put his pencil case in first. “No!"
His mum paused and looked up at him. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Lunchbox first. Then the pencil case,” Shane mumbled. He nodded once to himself; that was the right order.
Without arguing, his mum took the pencil case back out, and placed the lunchbox inside, before re-placing the pencil case on top. “Is this okay?”
Shane looked at the bag and gave a small nod. The strange feeling in his tummy eased.
Eventually, his mum set the bag aside and moved around the table, gently lowering herself onto the chair next to him.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow, honey?”
Shane shrugged.
Part of it sounded good.
He liked learning. He liked books. He liked the idea of having new things to do.
But there were other things, too.
What if he forgot where the toilets were?
What if he lost his water bottle?
What if he sat in the wrong place?
What if-
“Shane?”
His dad asked this time, having finally put down his newspaper. He was looking at Shane now, his eyebrows drawn together.
Shane stared at a tiny mark on the wooden table. “I don’t know,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
***
Yuna sighed, patting Shane’s shoulder before standing up. She had always worried about how little Shane spoke. Even as a baby, he’d been quiet, content to just watch and listen to the world around him.
Deep down, she hoped starting school would help him find his voice.
“No, I want my green jumper!” Shane protested, frustration creeping into his voice. He pointed at the folded item lying on his bed.
“You wore that yesterday, honey,” his mum said gently, holding up the new top and jacket she’d already laid out for him.
“No, they feel funny on my skin!"
Before she could reply, he scrambled to his feet, grabbed the jumper and pulled it over his head.
His mum let out a sigh.
“Okay, fine. But we really need to get moving Shane. We’ll be late otherwise.”
The moment the familiar fabric settled onto his skin, some of his nerves disappeared right away. The jumper was soft and worn from being washed so many times. There were no scratchy seams, no stiff fabrics and no itchy tags rubbing at the back of his neck.
Just right.
“You won’t leave me there, will you?”
Shane leaned forward in his car seat, hugging his teddy tighter as he looked between his parents in the front seats.
His mum turned around slightly.
“No, honey. We’ll be with you all morning, just like we talked about. We will stay while you meet your teacher and see your new classroom. Then, after lunch, we’ll all go home together, okay?”
Shane nodded, though the feeling in his tummy hadn't disappeared completely.
“Remember Shane,” his dad added, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, “these first few days are just settling-in days, you have time to get to know this new place.”
Shane sat back in his seat, still pressing his teddy close against his chest.
The classroom was too loud.
His new teacher, Miss T, was the most excited person Shane had ever met. She greeted and fussed over every child who walked through the door, as though they were the most important person in the world, asking questions and telling them how wonderful it was that they were here.
Shane had sat cross-legged on the carpet, squeezed between two children whose knees kept resting on top of his. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure his mum and dad were still there.
Eventually, the room settled into something resembling quiet.
“Let’s all introduce ourselves!” Miss T happily announced. “Tell us your name and something about yourself.”
Shane’s tummy started to feel funny again, just like this morning and the night before.
One by one, the children took their turns, prompted by their teacher. As his turn crept closer, the feeling in his tummy grew.
What if I forget what to say?
What if everybody looks at me?
What if my voice sounds funny?
“What about you?” Miss T asked, smiling at him.
Shane took a deep breath, just like his mum taught him to do when he was nervous. “My name is Shane and-”
“My dog’s called Shane!”
“I have a dog too!”
“Me too!”
“I have a cat!”
Excited voices bursted out around the circle all at once.
Shane stopped, mouth still half-open.
Miss T just laughed, joining in with the class about her own pets and what they were called.
The conversation just carried on without him.
A few moments later, Miss T turned to the child beside Shane.
“And what about you?”
That was it.
Shane looked over at his parents. His mum was too busy chatting with a group of other mums, near the back of the classroom. His dad managed to catch his eye and gave him a thumbs up. “Good job,” he mouthed.
Shane turned back around, confused as he wasn’t sure he had done anything ‘good’ at all.
***
After all the children had finished introducing themselves, Miss T declared it was time for discovery play. The children scattered across the classroom in different directions, rushing towards toys, books and activity tables.
Shane stayed where he was. All he really wanted to do was to go home, read one of his own books and play with his own toys.
“Shane!” His mum called out from across the room. “Look, they’ve got Legos over there!”
He followed her pointed finger to a table where three other children were already busy building something together.
Shane looked back at his mum, expression blank.
She smiled encouragingly and gestured towards the table again, before turning back to her conversation.
Hesitantly, Shane made his way over.
“I can build a house,” he offered quietly, as he sat down.
Nobody replied.
The children continued talking amongst themselves, adding more blocks to their odd-shapped building. Shane reached out and picked up a handful of bricks from the big tub in the middle of the table, placing them neatly in front of him. “Can I help buil-”
Before he could finish, one of the children reached across and grabbed his pile of blocks. Another child turned away from him without looking up.
Shane fell silent.
Maybe they hadn’t heard him.
Maybe they didn’t want him to help?
The weird feeling in his tummy felt the worst it had all morning.
***
After a while, Miss T clapped her hands together. “It’s art time now!”
The children hurried over to the craft tables, Shane reluctantly following.
He did try to join in.
But, the paint felt too sticky against his fingers.
When he went to get another brush, somebody bumped into him.
A moment later, a child accidentally splashed watered-down paint across his paper.
Another child shrieked with laughter nearby, making Shane flinch and knock a paint bottle on the floor.
The room seemed louder than before.
Too many voices.
Too many feet moving around.
Too many chairs scraping across the floor.
Shane frantically turned towards his parents, ready to tell them he wanted to go home. However, they were still standing with the other parents, smiling and talking, neither of them looking his way. He turned back towards his painting, trying to ignore the way his lips started to tremble.
***
Lunchtime was even worse.
The classroom felt twice as loud as before.
Children talked over one another, chairs scraped against the floor, lunchboxes snapped open and shut, and somebody kept laughing so loudly that it made Shane wince every time. The noise felt as though it was cutting Shane’s head open.
“I have crackers too,” Shane said quietly to another child on his table, trying distract himself from the commotion around him.
Nobody looked at him.
The children carried on talking and eating.
A few minutes later, when the noise was getting unbearable again, Shane tried once more. “What’s in your-”
His voice seemed to disappear against the children’s loud chatter.
Nobody seemed to notice he had spoken.
Shane lowered his gaze towards his lunch. The sandwich that his mum had packed him suddenly didn't taste right. It felt dry and crumbly in his mouth.
After a couple of forced bites, he wasn’t hungry anymore.
He carefully packed the rest of his lunch away, waiting for the next part of the day.
***
Miss T told the class the parents would be filling out some forms before they could go home, allowing the children to have an extra couple minutes of free play with their new friends.
Shane wandered over, alone, to the corner of the classroom, after spotting a basket full of teddy bears. They looked similar to his own toys at home.
One by one, he placed them in a neat row. He then moved them until there were no gaps between them, almost holding each other's hands.
The teddies stayed where he put them.
They didn’t grab things from him.
They didn’t talk over him.
They simply sat beside one another, in a perfect line.
Shane liked that.
The feeling in his tummy had started to loosen a little.
“Shane!”
He looked up from the row of teddies. His mum stood next to him smiling, a couple pieces of paper clutched in her hands. “Time to go home, honey.”
Shane immediately got to his feet, following his parents out of the classroom and towards their car. With every step away from the noise, his head felt clearer and clearer.
***
Once they were on the road, his dad glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. “So, kiddo, how was your first morning of kindergarten?”
Shane picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his jumper. “Loud,” he mumbled.
He noticed his mum and dad exchanging a glance.
After a moment, his mum turned slightly in her seat. “That's okay, honey, everyone was just excited to be there."
Shane carried on picking at the loose thread.
"It should be quieter tomorrow with no parents in the room; me and your dad will drop you off in the morning and pick you up after lunch, okay?"
Shane’s hand froze. He looked up at his mum, eyes widening. “What do you mean?” His tummy twisted, making him feel a bit sick. “You’re leaving me there?”
“No, honey!” His mum tried to reassure him quickly. “We will take you to school and we will still come back for you. We just won’t stay in the classroom with you.”
“Will you come back?”
“Of course we will.”
“You promise?”
His mum smiled softly, “we promise.”
“After lunch?”
“After lunch.”
Shane looked back down at his hands. He knew his parents always kept their promise.
Still, Shane couldn’t stop the worry buzzing around in his head.
“What if you forget?”
“We won’t forget,” his dad said gently.
“Promise?”
“We promise,” his parents said in unison.
Shane resumed his picking at the loose thread on his jumper, his tummy feeling a little bit lighter.
—
October, 1996.
—
The next few weeks settled into a new routine.
Every morning, Shane told himself that today might be different.
He kept trying.
During discovery play, he would wander over to different activity tables, with groups of children building towers or playing with toys. He always avoided going anywhere near the messy play tables.
“Can I play too?” Shane would ask.
Sometimes nobody answered. Sometimes they spoke over him, complaining they had too many children already playing with them.
At lunch, he tried joining in too.
One day, he told a boy next to him that he also had a ham sandwich.
The boy never looked up from his sandwich.
Another time, he asked if anybody on his table wanted some of his fruit snacks.
Nobody replied.
The children weren’t being mean. Most of the time, they just didn’t seem to notice he was there.
Shane didn’t understand why.
All the other children seemed to know exactly when to talk, what to say and how to make each other laugh. They slipped into playing games and conversations as if it was as easy as breathing. Shane felt as though everybody had been given instructions on how to make friends, that he had somehow missed. No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to make a friend.
Now, with the full school days, it felt even worse for Shane.
At first, his mum and dad would always collect him after lunch.
But now, he stayed until the afternoon.
The classroom was always loud from the moment he arrived at school, to the moment he left. Children shouted across the room, chairs scraped against the floor and somebody was always shrieking with laughter.
Even when Shane tried to hide in the book corner to escape the noise, he could still hear every single child playing.
***
One lunchtime stood out more than others for Shane.
The new lunchroom they had been told to go to when eating, felt busier than usual.
When Shane had arrived with his lunchbox, every seat was taken. He stopped near the door and stared at his shoes, silently waiting for somebody to finish eating so he could sit down.
Nobody seemed to notice he was standing there.
He clutched his lunchbox tighter to his chest.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
Shane looked up. A teaching assistant he recognised was smiling down at him.
“Let’s find you a chair, yeah?”
Shane nodded; words felt too hard today.
Eventually, a chair was brought over from an empty classroom and placed at the end of a table.
Away from everybody else.
Shane sat down and opened his lunchbox. Around him, children traded their snacks, told funny stories and laughed so hard their juice nearly came out of their noses.
Nobody tried speaking to him.
Nodboy even noticed he was sitting on his own.
He picked at his sandwich, quietly sniffling to himself.
The next morning, his tummy hurt when getting out of bed.
Well, he thought it did.
It felt twisty and uncomfortable and wrong.
Mum let him stay home.
A few days later, it happened again.
Then again.
Whenever school had felt too big, too loud or too lonely, the feeling returned. On those days, Shane stayed curled up on the sofa whilst his mum gently rubbed his back, telling him he would feel better soon. Those days made the feeling in his tummy go. He liked that.
However, part of him knew he wasn’t really ill. He just didn’t know how to explain what he felt. All he knew is that school made him feel tired and lonely, and that staying at home with one of his parents made him feel better.
From then, the cycle of missing a couple days here and there from school, started.
Sometimes, Shane felt okay, but if he knew that specific day at school was going to be lonely, he pretended his tummy hurt so his parents would let him stay home again.
—
November, 1996.
—
By November, school mornings had become unpredictable.
Some days, Shane woke up feeling sick, his tummy clenching and twisting uncomfortably. The feeling seemed to disappear the moment his mum said he could stay home.
Some days, before he’d even got out of bed, he already knew what the day would be like. He knew he would spend it alone. He knew the other children would talk over him, ignoring him completely. He knew he would sit quietly in the book corner, whilst everybody played together. On those particular mornings, Shane would pull the blankets over his head, mumbling to his mum that he didn’t feel well.
Other days, Shane woke up feeling brave enough to go in. Those days usually end up with him coming home in the afternoon, complaining that he felt sick and his tummy hurt.
He had tried so hard.
He had tried so hard to make friends.
He was polite.
He shared, even if the other children didn’t ask to share his toys.
He was kind.
He asked nicely to join in with games.
He just still didn’t understand why all the children ignored him. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong.
Today had been a particularly hard day.
Shane wasn’t entirely sure why.
His skin felt tight, too tight for his body. His head was a buzzing mess; the noises from the day were still rattling around in there. His chest felt tight, making it hard to breathe.
He had spent the ride home from school sitting in silence, staring out of the window as the world went whizzing by. Though, that wasn’t unusual for him.
The car eventually rolled into the driveway.
His mum collected his backpack and lunchbox, whilst his dad headed inside. Shane followed his dad into the house, and wandered straight over towards the sofa; tucking himself in the corner, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around his teddy. The familiar softness of the teddy eased some of the tight feeling in his chest.
A few minutes later, his mum appeared in front of him. She was holding his lunchbox.
“Shane, why didn’t you eat your lunch today?”
He shrugged.
He knew why.
The lunchroom was too loud.
The children were too loud.
And Shane felt too lonely, sitting by himself whilst everybody was sitting with their friends, chattering away. The loneliness made his food taste bad.
“Are you okay, honey?” His mum tried again.
Shane gave a small nod.
“Would you like a snack instead?”
He shook his head.
His mum sighed, “How’s your tummy feeling?”
Shane stared at the blank screen on the TV.
“Shane, are you going to say anything?”
He wanted to. Really, he did.
But the words felt stuck in his throat.
Sometimes, talking was too hard for Shane; it took too much effort and energy. Shane would spend all day trying to join in conversations with other children, only to be talked over or ignored. By the time he got home, all the words had left him.
“Shane, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what's wrong."
He squeezed his teddy tighter against him.
His mum waited.
When no answer came, her expression hardened. “I don’t like being ignored.”
He wasn’t ignoring her. He just didn’t have any words left in him.
“If you’re not going to talk to me, you can go and have some quiet time in your room."
Shane lowered his head. He slowly got off the sofa, picking up his teddy and walked towards his bedroom.
The door clicked shut behind him.
He climbed onto his bed and curled into his side, pulling the teddy close. For a long moment, he stared blankly at the wall next to him.
Then a tear slipped down his cheek.
“I’m worried about him,” David appeared in the kitchen doorway, glancing towards the stairs where Shane had disappeared moments earlier.
Yuna chucked the untouched sandwich from Shane’s lunchbox in the bin.
“He’ll be fine,” she said, not looking up at David. “He’s still getting used to it.”
David frowned. “It’s November.”
She paused briefly before continuing to wash out Shane’s lunchbox. “He’s always been quiet. Settling in and making friends may take him a while.”
“I think he’s been trying, Yuna.”
The words hung in the air.
David walked further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. “Every day he comes home exhausted, refuses to speak to us. That doesn't even account for how many days he keeps missing because of his stomach hurting.”
Yuna sighed. “He does talk to us.”
“Not lately.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
“He’ll get there,” Yuna said eventually, though she sounded less certain than before. “Once he finds his confidence, everything will be fine.”
David glanced back towards the stairs. “I hope you’re right.”
“If there’s something really wrong, he’ll tell us.”
Neither of them realised Shane had been trying to tell them for weeks; there was a reason he kept missing school.
—
December, 1996.
—
December came and went quickly.
Some days, Shane went into school. Some days, he stayed home with a sore tummy that seemed to appear whenever the thought of another lonely day at school became too much.
On New Year’s Eve, his mum told him that wishes made at midnight were special.
Later that night, tucked under his blankets, Shane made his wish.
I want somebody to want to be my friend.
—
January, 1997.
—
After the Christmas Holidays, Shane went in more often than he had before the break. He was determined that maybe this would be the month things got better.
It didn’t get better; it only got worse.
Most days, his lunch came home half-eaten. The chatter, the laughter, the scraping of chairs with the feeling of sitting by himself, made all of his food taste wrong.
As soon as he got home, though, the hunger returned. Almost every afternoon, he wandered into the kitchen asking his mum for a snack. If words had escaped him that day, he ended up pointing towards the cupboards hoping his mum would understand.
“Didn’t you eat your lunch?” She would ask.
Shane always shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain it.
He was hungry.
Just not at school.
Shane hoped every night before school that his New Year’s Eve wish would come true.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to spend his days stuck in the reading corner, book balanced on his knees, whilst watching the other children play together; wondering what he was doing wrong.
It didn't come true.
—
February, 1997.
—
One evening, while helping set the table for dinner, his mum gently nudged him. “Is there anyone from school you’d like to invite over one day?”
Shane paused.
Then he shook his head.
“Oh,” his mum said softly. “Maybe another time?”
Shane nodded and carried on placing forks beside the plates.
He wasn’t saying no because he didn’t want to invite someone over. He was saying no because he had nobody to invite.
—
March, 1997.
—
Shane had decided he was getting bored of reading all the books in the class over and over again. The first day he tried to do something other than reading in discovery play, ended up being a big mistake.
“I was playing with-” Shane looked up at the child who suddenly snatched the toy cars out of his hands.
“Mine now!”
Shane stared at his empty hands. A few moments later, he got up and moved over to the reading corner.
He wouldn’t do that again.
—
April, 1997.
—
For weeks, Shane had been counting down the days until his birthday. There were still a few weeks left, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about it constantly.
He was finally going to have his very first birthday party.
There was just one problem.
Who was he supposed to invite?
***
At dinner one evening, Shane couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself any longer. “Mum, my invitations have to be perfect.”
His parents both looked up.
“They have to be blue,” Shane continued, speaking so quickly he didn’t stop to take a breath. “Everybody likes blue. And I need pictures but not many. And it needs to say it's my birthday as everyone won't know what it's for.”
“Okay, honey,” his mum said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s finish dinner first, then we’ll work on them together.”
The next two hours were spent at the family computer.
Or, more accurately, spent following Shane’s instructions.
“No, not that blue.”
“Make that a little bigger.”
“No, that's too big!”
“No! Leave room there! I need to write on it too.”
“Move that there.”
“No! There.”
His mum pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shane.”
“It has to be right!”
“It will be right.”
“No, it won’t.” Shane leaned closer to the screen. “My name needs to be bigger.”
His mum sighed dramatically.
Shane chose to ignore her. This was important. More important than anything else.
A couple minutes later, his mum added their address at the bottom of the invite.
“No!” Shane’s eyes widened. “You can’t put that there!”
“Honey, people need to know where they’re going.”
Shane frowned. “Oh.”
He took a moment to think.
“Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, he finally smiled. “It’s perfect.”
His mum glanced at the screen. “It is pretty good,” she admitted.
Shane couldn’t stop smiling. He hadn’t felt this happy in a while.
Tomorrow, he would hand them out at school.
Maybe things would change.
Maybe if he had the best birthday party in the whole class, everybody would want to play with him.
Maybe they would want to talk to him.
Maybe they would want to be his friend.
His mum switched on the printer; the machine instantly began buzzing and whirring. Shane winced at the noise, before turning back towards her.
“Mum?”
“Hm?”
“Do you think I’m the first birthday in my class?”
His mum paused and looked at Shane. “Why do you ask?”
“Because nobody else has had a birthday party yet. That means it has to be really good. Like really good.”
“Oh,” his mum hesitated. “Yes. You must be the first one.”
***
Across the room, David looked up from the sofa.
Their eyes met briefly.
David’s eyebrows rose, whilst Yuna gave a tiny shake of her head. She didn’t know why Shane’s question had made the knot of worry in her stomach tighten.
The printer beeped loudly, breaking the moment.
She watched as Shane reached for the first invitation, ready to write his ‘own special words’.
She hoped everything went to plan.
—
May, 1997.
—
“What time is it?”
Yuna glanced up from arranging the paper plates on the table, “It’s only 10 o’clock Shane. Are you ready already?”
“Yes! I’ve been ready for ages mum.”
…
“What time is it now?”
Shane stood beside her now, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Still nearly eleven.”
Thirty seconds later, he was back.
“What about now?”
Yuna smiled softly, she hadn’t seen him this excited for a while. “It’s still nearly eleven.”
…
“What is it now, mum?”
“Eleven fifteen,” Yuna said, looking down at her watch.
Her smile dimmed slightly.
11:15.
The invitations had definitely said 11, didn’t they?
…
“Where is everybody mum?”
This time, Shane’s question was quiet. Far quieter than the previous ones.
Yuna looked over at him.
Shane sat at the head of the table, watching the front door. A party hat sat slightly lopsided on his head. He’d insisted that every chair should also have a matching hat, so nobody would feel left out. He’d worn his best clothes, even though he spent the entire morning complaining that they made him feel itchy. He had even sat through a haircut earlier that week, without protest, because he wanted to look good for his party.
Her chest tightened.
Her gaze swept across the table.
Decorations covered every surface, no gaps could be seen.
Paper plates sat waiting to be filled with food. Empty cups stood in neat rows. A goodie bag rested on every chair; Shane had been particularly proud of those. He’d spent nearly an hour helping her sort out the sweets and toys, carefully making sure every bag had exactly the same number of items. Beneath each one, sat a photocopied thank you note. Designed specially by him.
Every detail of the party had been planned with every guest in mind.
Guests who still hadn’t arrived.
Her eyes drifted towards the front door again.
“Mum?” Shane’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned back to him, forcing a bright smile onto her face. “Maybe there’s some traffic, honey.” She reached over and gently straightened his crooked party hat. “Dad will be here soon anyways,” she added. “He’s just picking up the cake.”
Her smile remained fixed until Shane looked back at the front door.
Only then did it falter.
She glanced back down at her watch.
11:30.
The feeling in her chest grew heavier.
***
Shane didn’t understand.
He had checked the invitations over and over again, before handing them out.
Shane made sure to add the date.
His mum made sure to add the address and time.
Everything had been correct. Hadn’t it?
He’d even watched each child take their invitation home; he had stood by the classroom door at the end of the day, making sure every single one found its way into a parent's hand.
So where was everybody?
He looked around at the empty chairs surrounding the tables.
The matching party hats sat untouched.
The goodie bags waited patiently beneath them. Nobody had opened theirs. Nobody had even seen them.
One hour had passed.
Then two.
The excitement that had buzzed around inside his chest all morning had long since disappeared, leaving behind the tight, clenching feel in his tummy that he knew all too well.
He had felt so sure. So sure that if he had the best birthday party ever, everybody would want to come.
Maybe they would start talking to him at school.
Maybe they would start playing with him.
Maybe they would become his friends?
His hopes felt almost like the wish he’d made on New Year’s Eve.
I want somebody to want to be my friend.
Shane swallowed hard. Maybe wishes didn’t work out after all.
“When will they be here mum?” His voice came out smaller than he’d intended, he counted on his mum to know exactly what was happening. He watched her glance towards the front door.
Then back to the table.
Then back again to the front door, before letting out a small sigh. “Maybe the dates got mixed up, honey.”
“Oh.” Shane’s lower lip trembled. He looked quickly down at the paper plate in front of him. If he carried on looking at his mum, he might have started crying.
It was his birthday.
Birthdays were supposed to be happy.
Birthdays were supposed to be fun.
“Where’s the birthday boy?” The front door suddenly burst open. “I’ve got a very special delivery!”
Shane’s head snapped up.
His dad stood in the doorway, balancing a large cake box in his arms. Shane watched as he paused mid-step, smile slowly fading. His dad’s eyes swept across the room, taking in the untouched party hats, the untouched goodie bags and the empty chairs.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then his dad swallowed and forced a grin onto his face. “Hey kiddo,” he said, settling the cake box down on the table. “How about we make a wish and have some cake? Sound good?”
Shane stared at the empty chair next to him. The one he’d saved for whoever arrived first. “Okay,” he mumbled. Though the thought of cake made him feel sick.
A couple minutes later, his parents placed the cake in front of him. The candles flickered softly, the smoke disappearing up into the air. His mum switched off the kitchen light, before she and his dad began singing a slightly off-key version of ‘Happy Birthday’.
Shane kept his eyes fixed on the candles.
There were supposed to be more voices. Children’s voices. The party wasn’t supposed to sound this quiet.
As the song came to an end, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Bright, fuzzy spots danced behind his eyelids.
His New Year’s wish hadn’t worked. For months, he’d waited for it to come true.
Maybe birthday wishes were stronger.
“Make a wish, honey.” His mum said softly.
Shane took a deep breath.
I wish for a friend.
Please.
Just one friend.
He opened his eyes and blew out the candles; making sure every one blew out in one go.
His parents clapped and smiled, cheering him on. Shane tried to smile back, but all he could see were the empty chairs.
“Want some cake now, Shane?”
Shane stared at the table.
The sickly, sweet smell of the cake drifting towards him made his tummy churn. Despite barely eating all day, the thought of chewing and swallowing anything made him feel sick.
He shook his head.
“Come on, honey,” his mum encouraged gently. “It’s your birthday.”
Something inside Shane cracked. All the hurt, confusion and disappointment he’d been trying to hold in, came rushing to the surface; exploding out all at once.
“NO!” The word burst out of him so loudly, that both his parents flinched.
His chest tightened.
The room suddenly seemed too bright.
Too big.
Too loud.
His breathing became quick and uneven as panic flooded through him.
“Hey, hey,” his mum said, taking a cautious step forward.
“Stop!” Shane cried, tears blurring his vision. “Stop! It’s too much!” His hands flew to his hair, gripping tightly as though he could somehow stop everything happening.
“Shane, take a breath, kiddo,” his dad tried this time. He reached out instinctively, placing a hand on Shane’s shoulder.
Shane jerked away violently before he could touch him. “I just want to go to my room!” He sobbed. The words came out broken between gasping breaths.
His dad immediately pulled his hand back. “Okay,” he said gently. “That’s okay.”
Neither of his parents moved. Neither of them quite knew what to do.
“Do you want one of us to come with you?” His dad asked carefully.
Shane shook his head so hard his vision blurred. Fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. Before either of his parents could say anything else, he pushed himself out of his chair, almost knocking it on the floor. He hurried out of the room, sock-clad feet thudding against the wooden floorboards as he ran down the hallway and up the stairs.
The moment he reached his bedroom, he scrambled onto his bed and grabbed his teddy. He pulled the teddy tightly against his chest, curled himself into a ball, and buried his face in the soft fabric.
He cried as quietly as he could.
He didn’t understand.
Why hadn’t anybody come?
Did nobody want to come?
Did nobody like him?
His arms tightened around his teddy.
Did nobody want to be his friend?
By four o’clock, the house had fallen silent. Neither Yuna nor David had known what to do with themselves. They hadn’t had the strength to move or tidy up everything on the table.
Eventually, Yuna and David decided to make their way upstairs.
Yuna hesitated outside Shane’s bedroom door before carefully pushing it open. The room was exactly as Shane had left it that morning. Earlier that day, he’d spent nearly an hour tidying it with her help. Everything had been organised and placed in neat rows; ready to show everybody.
Yuna felt her chest tighten. “Oh, honey…”
Shane lay curled up beneath his blanket, one arm wrapped tightly around his teddy. Dried tear tracks stained his cheeks. Even in his sleep, he looked exhausted.
David sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “We love you, kiddo,” he murmured, brushing a hand gently through Shane’s hair. “It’s okay.”
Shane didn’t stir.
David leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, Yuna copying him a moment later. “Sleep well, honey,” she whispered.
For a few seconds, neither parent moved.
Then Yuna quietly reached for David’s hand, squeezing lightly before slipping out the room together, closing the door behind them.
The next day, Yuna tried to act as though everything was normal.
She washed dishes, made breakfast and packed away the leftover party food. When she collected the rubbish from around the house, she noticed several pieces of paper sitting in Shane’s bedroom bin.
Her heart sank.
Carefully, she pulled one free.
A torn corner of a thank-you note stared back at her.
Yuna stood very still.
Then, without a word, she placed the paper back into the bin, ignoring the other ripped up notes. She tied the rubbish bag shut, and carried it outside. Halfway down the driveway, she paused and wiped at a tear that had escaped down her cheek.
This wasn’t how a birthday was supposed to end.
—
June, 1997.
—
June arrived far too slowly for Shane’s liking.
After his birthday, something seemed to change.
He stopped talking about school. He stopped talking about his classmates. He stopped talking much at all.
Every morning, without fail, he seemed to have a new reason why he couldn’t go into school.
“My throat feels funny.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“My tummy hurts.”
Most of the time, his parents believed him. One of them would call in sick from work and stay at home with him for the day. They’d bundle him up on the sofa beneath a pile of blankets, his teddy stuck safely against his chest. His mum would make soup for lunch. His dad would offer him ice cream if Shane took his medicine.
The truth was, Shane wasn’t really sick; not in the way his parents thought.
He just couldn't bear another day of feeling alone.
At school, he spent most days sitting by himself.
At home, people listened when he spoke. Somebody wanted to spend time with him. His parents loved him more than anything, he knew that. And after years of having their undivided attention all to himself, the thought of spending another day surrounded by children who didn't seem to notice he existed, felt unbearable.
Of course, his parents didn't always believe him. Sometimes, they exchanged knowing glances and gently insisted that he go in anyway.
“You’ll be okay once you're there, Shane.”
Those were the worst days.
The walk through the school gates felt harder every time.
The classroom felt louder.
The loneliness felt heavier.
***
Shane had started counting down the days until the summer holidays. Two whole months without school. Two whole months, without noisy classrooms, lonely lunchtimes and pretending everything was fine.
Shane found himself wishing the days would go faster, and that summer could hurry up.
—
July & August, 1997.
—
The summer holidays passed in a blur.
Usually, Shane hated summer in Canada. He hated the heat that made his clothes stick to his skin, the bugs that always seemed to find him, and the heavy, tired feeling that followed after particularly hot days.
This year was different.
His mum and dad kept him busy almost every day. They took him to the ice rink when the weather was too warm, to the zoo when he wanted to see the animals, and to the park whenever he needed space to run around.
For the first time in months, Shane felt happy.
Slowly, he stopped thinking about school. He stopped thinking about lonely lunchtimes and empty chairs. He almost forgot that summer would eventually end.
Whenever he found a penny on the sidewalk, Shane would make a wish.
Whenever he spotted a shooting star, he made another.
Whenever he blew the fluffy seeds from a dandelion into the wind, he squeezed his eyes shut and wished as hard as he could.
The wish was always the same.
Please let me make a friend this year.
Just one.