Here's the thing about birthdays: they aren't fun if you are in a weird place with your boyfriend. They usually aren't fun when they are on a Thursday, either, especially if that Thursday in theater class you have to watch your boyfriend kiss another girl for what feels like the hundredth time, which throws your scenes off because you're off. Yeah, so, happy 17th birthday to me.

"Are you sure you don't want to do anything for your birthday?" Mom asks. She's in the kitchen preparing dinner and a little vegan cake for us to share, while I sit on the sofa in the living room, pretending not to notice that I've left the last few messages from Thatcher unread.

"Yup, positive," I reply.

See, the thing is, I'm mad at Thatcher, but I'm not entirely sure why. I wasn't mad at Patti for taking the same opportunity, and I wasn't mad at Moth for taking a similar opportunity. So why Thatcher?

Two thoughts circulate inside me.

I'm mad at Thatcher, because he's my boyfriend and I love him; so it's different that he is leaving. It's different that he wouldn't talk to me about it at all or give me a proper heads up before accepting the agent's offer and making plans to go out to Hollywood.

Now that Thatcher's been contacted, I'll be the last misfit without an agent, probably forever. They were all contacted around the same time, so... I will be left here to figure things out on my own. And if I was freaking out about being "alone" in scenes for Midsummer Night's Dream, I clearly didn't understand what loneliness would feel like until right now.

"Why don't you invite a friend over? Just for dinner," Mom suggests. She can sense my loneliness.

"Fine," I say, but I'm in such a terrible mood that I take my anger with Thatcher out on Mom and text Gina.

Janie Myers (5:43pm): Want to come over for dinner?

Gina Romano (5:43pm): On your Bday????

Janie Myers (5:44pm): Yeah... my mom thinks I'm lonely.

Gina Romano (5:44pm): Yeah wait, where's Thatcher? Why can't he come?

Janie Myers (5:44pm): If you don't want to come over or you can't that's fine.

Gina Romano (5:45pm): NO, I'm on it.

"Gina's coming," I call to the kitchen.

Mom slowly steps into the doorway, confusion inhabiting her entire body. "What's going on with you, Janie?"

I shrug, but the tears start to stream. "Thatcher's going to Hollywood too."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. It will be okay, you two can talk all the time still, and FaceTime, that'll be nice."

"I don't want to think about it right now. That's why I don't want any of my friends over. This is the worst birthday of my life."

My mom scoffs. "Oh, honey, it gets worse. But I understand."

She retreats into the kitchen to continue working on dinner, now for three, and I try my best to melt into the couch so I won't ever have to get up again. I'm back at square one: Lonely and asking Gina to be my only friend.

Oh well, I think. I can't seem to care about anything real right now. My grades slipped this week, because I didn't study and barely did my homework, my relationship is in trouble, my lines for Midsummer sounded terrible, and it looks like all my friends will have their dreams come true while I sit here and continue being worthless in Riverside. Who cares.

Time passes in a slow blur until the doorbell rings around 6:20pm, just as Mom is setting the table.

"That's Gina," I say, peeling myself off the couch. "I'll get it."

I open the door, letting cool fall air wake me up a bit, and see Gina standing in front of me.

"Hey Janie," she says, "thanks for inviting me. I wasn't sure if we were there yet."

"Yeah, no problem. Come on it."

"Wait." She holds her hands up like she's signalling me to stop. "I wanted to show you I changed, so I got you a present."

Her hands are at her sides and I peek around her body without seeing anything behind her. "What is it?" I ask.

She looks off to the side and gestures for someone to walk closer. "It's them," she says, looking back at me as she moves aside.

I step into the doorway to peek out onto the sidewalk.

Moth is the first person I see. He's walking towards me with a card, smiling. "This time it really is your birthday," he says, handing me the card.

I smile, for the first time probably all day.

Sean and Emma are behind him, holding balloons that dance in the breeze. They are those silver balloons that take forever to lose their air, but they have Sesame Street characters on them and the numbers 1 and 7.

"They didn't have 17-year-old balloons anymore, so we improvised," Sean says as they come towards me as well.

Emma leans in to hug me when she's close enough. "Happy birthday, girl. It's all going to be okay," she whispers in my ear. I squeeze her a little tighter to ward off tears.

Then, the last person to approach me is Thatcher. He's clearly having a hard time maintaining eye contact with me, because he's looking basically everywhere but my eyes. Still, he approaches me, almost like that invisible string between us has returned and is summoning him back to me. He leans down and kisses my forehead.

"Happy birthday Janie," he says. His words shake like he's holding back tears too. He must know I'm mad at him, and he must have his own reasons why he thinks I am, otherwise he wouldn't look so guilty.

My mom appears behind me with a loud, "Oh my goodness, how adorable! You're all here! Come in, come in! I definitely don't have enough food for everyone, but come in."

"That's okay Tess, we just want to hang out with Janie and make sure she knows we are wishing her the happiest of birthdays," Moth says, always the parent pleaser.

Moth, Gina, Sean, and Emma walk inside around Thatcher and I, as we remain frozen in the doorway. I'm not sure what to say.

"You have been avoiding me," he says, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," I say.

"Is it because of Hollywood?"

Yeah, but it's not just that, it's that you're abandoning me and didn't even warn me before it was happening, I think.

What I say is: "I just feel betrayed."

He nods. "I understand. So what do we do from here?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

I love you so much, but you hurt me and I don't know when I will feel okay again, I think.

"Do you want me to stay? Or go?"

This is his hardest question for me yet. I want him to stay, not just tonight at my house, but forever, with me, in Riverside. I don't want him to go to Hollywood. But that's selfish and unfair of me. I can't keep him from his dreams, because I'm jealous. But I also feel so depressed and alone that, ironically, I can't be around him right now. Being with him would just remind me that I'll be alone soon.

"I'm not ready to hang out with you yet," I mumble. "I'm hurt."

I didn't notice the tears building in his eyes, but when he nods in acknowledgement, some tears shake loose and roll down his perfect cheeks.

"Okay, I'll go. I love you, Janie. Happy birthday."

He turns and heads down the sidewalk back toward the intersection connecting my street to his. I stand in the doorway for a few extra moments, I'm not sure how long exactly, waiting for... I'm not sure. For him to turn back and take me in his arms and refuse to let me go? For him to look back at me with one last knowing glance? I'm waiting for something I'd see in a romantic comedy, but nothing about this is funny, so I decide to close the door.

I float into the dining room, where Mom is pulling up more chairs, and Moth asks, "Where's Thatch?"

"He went home," I say, barely present.

For a moment that stretches out way too long, everyone is silent. Then Gina, in her finest moment, says, "More food for us," and a group chuckle fills the silence.

Dinner passes, my friends manage to lighten my spirits a bit, but nothing much helps. Food doesn't taste as good, the attention doesn't feel good at all, not even hugs from my friends as they say goodbye help.

Moth is the last one to leave and asks me to sit on my front steps with him for a bit while he waits for his ride, deja vu from the first time he came to my house with a birthday card. I sit down with a thud.

"Okay, Janie, spill the tea, what's going on?"

I bury my head in my hands to hide my smile. Moth's attitude always brings a smile to my face, but I don't want him to see.

I take a deep breath, like he taught me, and breathe out the hard to admit stuff: "I'm mad at Thatcher for not talking to me about all of this and leaving me here without anyone."

"What do you mean? I'll still be here during the week."

"It's not the same though, you're still going to be off in Hollywood with them. Without me."

"So this is a jealousy thing?"

I shrug. "And a loneliness thing. I don't want to be alone."

He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. "You won't be... unless you keep pushing him away. You don't have to be anything if you don't want to be. If you don't want to be lonely, stop making yourself sit alone."

"I'm depressed, Moth, not just being stubborn."

"Sorry. Sorry, I am, it's just that you're sort of being stubborn. I love you, but I have to call it like I see it, because I love Thatcher too. You're not giving him a chance to make it up to you. You two are too cute together to let this die."

"I'm not letting it die."

"Says the girl who sent her boyfriend away on her birthday."

"Wow, you really are going to call it like you see it, huh?"

He smiles. "You know me."

"Moth... what if no one ever contacts me?"

"Then it's Hollywood's loss. Why don't you reach out to Tara Lyons about it?"

"And say what? My friends all got agents, why not me?"

He shrugs. "Sure."

"She is just going to say the same thing she told me while I was there. I have to act like I deserve it, I need to be confident in myself."

"So... do that."

"My confidence is not going to bring agents to my door."

"It might. The universe works in mysterious ways. You put out what you want to receive, and the universe makes it work for you."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, of course I do. Have you met me?"

I smile again. "Yes, I have."

"So what positivity are you putting out into the universe?"

I roll my eyes.

"C'mon, Janie. Anything?"

"I asked Mrs. Larkin to make us all patches."

"That's nice, all of who?"

"All of us in Ensemble."

"See, now there's the thoughtful and kind Janie I know. What kind of patches?"

"Ensemble Theater Company patches we can wear, like... as a team."

"You're adorable, kiddo."

"Thanks."

"I'm going to head out now, but I want you to call Thatcher. You don't have to be alone."

"Wait... aren't you still waiting for a ride?"

He smiles, pushing himself up to stand. He extends his hand to help me up. "I drove myself here. Just needed to debrief with my girl Janie. Call him."

I nod. "I will. Thanks."

Moth salutes me. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

He heads down the block to where he's parked his Jeep, and I suddenly feel dumb for not having seen it earlier. As he drives off, I pull my phone from my pocket and open up the messages I've left unread from Thatcher.

"Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday," I type. "I love you."

I'm still angry with him, but maybe there's time to fix this before he leaves.