Monday, September 5, 2005
(Mike)
A little over a month had passed.
Not that you'd be able to tell from my life, honestly. When you have responsibilities, real ones, time tends to blur together. And by responsibilities, I mean owning a store… and then hiring someone competent to actually manage it while I sit back and enjoy the benefits of being a "hands-off owner."
Best decision I ever made.
The store was running smoothly, profits steady, zero headaches. Which left me with a brand-new problem: I suddenly had way too much money and absolutely no idea what to do with it.
That part was entirely Alice Cullen's fault.
I still remembered the look on her face when I'd asked, very carefully, how long it usually took to see returns on investments.
She'd blinked at me. Once.
"Oh," she said lightly, like we were discussing the weather, "about a week."
I'd laughed. Actually laughed.
"Alice," I said, leaning back in the chair across from her, "I'm not expecting miracles. Just don't let my money disappear, okay?"
She smiled at me then. That sharp, knowing smile that always made me feel like I was several steps behind.
"A week," she repeated.
Seven days later, my phone buzzed while I was halfway through reorganizing the store's backroom.
BANK NOTIFICATION: Deposit received.
I stared at the screen.
"...What the hell?"
Just over a hundred thousand dollars sat there, nice and clean, like it had always belonged to me.
I called her immediately.
"You moved the decimal point wrong," I said the second she picked up.
"Nope."
"This is too much."
"That's five percent," she replied calmly. "Just something to tide you over, the rest will be reinvested."
"Tide me over?" I repeated weakly. "Alice, this is more money than I've ever had in my life."
"And you'll have more," she added. "The next transfer will be in a month."
She hung up before I could argue.
A month later, actually, a few days ago, the second transfer came in.
Millions.
Plural.
That was the exact moment it truly sank in.
I was officially a millionaire.
The first thing I did was transfer one million dollars to my parents.
They'd just gotten back from Hawaii, skin sun-kissed, smiles wide, still riding that vacation high when I told them to check their bank account.
My mom frowned at her phone.
"Michael… did you mean to send us something?"
"Yes," I said.
She gasped.
Actually gasped.
Her hand flew to her chest and she swayed.
"Oh my God…"
Dad leaned over to look.
Then he dropped straight back onto the couch out cold.
"Dad!" I shouted, rushing forward.
He came to a few seconds later, blinking up at the ceiling.
"Am I dead?" he asked hoarsely.
"No," I said dryly. "But apparently money can kill you."
Mom was crying, laughing, praying, all at once. It took me a good ten minutes to convince them I wasn't involved in anything illegal.
I'd thought about buying a new car briefly.
Then I looked at my current one; big, solid, barely a year old, and realized I'd just be wasting money for the sake of it.
"What am I supposed to do," I muttered to myself one night, "collect cars like Pokémon?"
Nah. My trusty mountaineer still worked fine. No reason to fix what wasn't broken.
The beach trips, though? Those were worth it.
La Push was freezing as always, even in summer, but that hadn't stopped us. Me, the guys, and Leah, who'd insisted cliff jumping was "no big deal."
"It's just water," she said, standing at the edge, arms crossed.
"Water that feels like ice knives," I replied.
She smirked. "You scared?"
"No," I said. "Just sane."
She jumped anyway.
I followed.
And yeah, if you have a superhuman body that doesn't register cold properly, cliff jumping is actually pretty damn fun.
Leah surfaced beside me, laughing, hair slicked back, eyes bright.
"See?" she said. "Worth it."
I had to admit, it was.
But poor Tyler, who was the only other one who dared to jump, was freezing his ass, looking at us like we were crazy as we climbed to jump a second time.
…
(Flashback – July 27th, 2005)
I hadn't planned anything for my birthday.
Honestly, it kind of snuck up on me. One day it was just another Tuesday, the next Sue Clearwater was insisting that I come over for dinner because "turning eighteen only happens once." And with my parents still in Hawaii, she saw it as her duty to make sure I celebrate it properly.
So that's how I ended up at the Clearwater house that Wednesday evening, the place already alive when I arrived. The windows glowed warm against the early summer dusk, and the smell of food hit me the moment Sue opened the door.
"There he is!" she said brightly, pulling me into a hug before I could even say hello. "The birthday boy."
"I told you it wasn't a big deal," I protested, smiling anyway.
"Too late," Leah called from the living room. "Cake's already involved."
That explained everything.
Harry was sitting in his chair, relaxed, watching the room with that quiet, content look he always had. Seth was sprawled on the floor nearby, fiddling with something I couldn't see, and Leah leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, pretending she wasn't excited while absolutely being excited.
Dinner passed easily; laughing, teasing, stories I'd already heard but didn't mind hearing again. At some point Sue disappeared into the kitchen and came back carrying a cake.
Chocolate with thick frosting, and uneven lettering which was probably Seth's work.
HAPPY 18th MIKE
Seth's eyes lit up.
"Can we sing now?" he asked.
"You don't ask that," Leah said. "You just do it."
And then they did.
Off-key, loud, and completely uncoordinated.
I stood there, hands awkwardly at my sides, trying not to laugh while Sue beamed at me, Harry sang slowly but proudly, and Seth put his entire soul into it like this was the most important performance of his life.
When it was over, I blew out the candles in one breath.
"Make a wish," Sue said.
I didn't tell them I already had more than I knew what to do with.
The gifts came next, nothing extravagant. A hoodie from Sue, warm and soft, that smelled faintly like laundry detergent and home. A badly wrapped box from Seth containing a new game he'd clearly debated buying for himself instead.
Leah handed me a small package last.
"Don't get weird about it," she said quickly.
Inside was a simple leather bracelet, sturdy, understated.
"It's cool," I said honestly. "Thanks."
She nodded once, satisfied.
Then Harry cleared his throat.
"Alright," he said, reaching beside his chair. "Eighteen's a big one."
He pulled out a beer.
Cold. Glass bottle. Beads of condensation catching the light.
Sue raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.
Harry handed it to me like it was a rite of passage.
"My first beer?" I said, taking it carefully.
He grinned. "Proud moment."
I hesitated.
"Uh… Harry, I'm only eighteen. Not twenty-one."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't mind the details. You're an adult now."
Leah snorted. "That's not how laws work."
"Relax," Harry said. "One beer won't kill him."
I shrugged, popped the cap with my thumb, and took a big sip.
I immediately regretted it.
My face twisted before I could stop it.
"What…" I coughed, swallowing. "Is it supposed to taste like piss?"
There was a beat of silence.
Then Harry burst out laughing, deep and genuine.
"You get used to it," he said between chuckles.
I stared at the bottle like it had personally betrayed me.
"I don't want to get used to it."
Seth, who had been inching closer with hopeful eyes, froze.
"…It tastes like that?" he asked.
I held the bottle out toward him slightly and he recoiled like I'd offered him poison.
"Nope. I'm good."
Leah laughed, Sue shook her head with a smile, and Harry just leaned back, still amused.
"Fair enough," he said. "More for me."
We finished the cake after that, thick slices, too much frosting, Seth getting it on his nose, Leah stealing the corner piece because "it has the best ratio."
It wasn't fancy.
It wasn't loud.
But sitting there, surrounded by them, I realized something.
This, this was what eighteen should feel like.
Not the money.
Not the future.
Not the expectations.
Just warmth, laughter, and a birthday cake that leaned slightly to the left.
…
(Back to the Present)
Now, though, all of that was behind me.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as the school came into view, sunlight glinting off familiar windows.
First day of my last year.
Same building. Same people.
Different me.
Money, power, plans, none of it changed the fact that I was still driving to school on a Monday morning.
I exhaled slowly.
"Alright," I muttered. "Let's get this over with."
And with that, I pulled into the parking lot.
…