12 years old. 4380 days. 105120 hours. She sits in bed and stares at the calendar. She quickly grabs the bright red pen on her tabletop. Pulls the covers off herself. Her stuffed animal moved aside, not a second thought. She reaches the calendar, tears the cap of her bright red pen. She pauses. Smiles at her calendar, at the day. She raises the pen and crosses out a day passed and she recaps the pen and throws it on the bed. Walking towards her mirror she smiles at herself, her eyes twinkling. Pure joy spreads through her body. She looks around her room, at the bed, her dolls, the pictures of her friendsgoing to the circus she breaths in deep and lets out a long, joyful sigh. She peers into her closet. She rummages through forgotten pieces of the past. Finding what she’s looking for she throws it. It lands by her mirror. She puts on her favorite jeans, tattered and torn and written on. She pulls on some socks and her favorite shirt that is only worn once a year for the right occasion. This occasion. She goes back to her mirror, picks up what she threw and places it directly on her head. She speaks to her reflection, “Nothing can go wrong, today, it’s just too much of a perfect day.” She smiles, walks to her door and steps out of her room, shutting the door behind her. She steps into the kitchen. Her brother sitting on his high chair. Playing with the spilled milk and the cheerios in front of him. He giggles at her sight. She looks at her mom, who is busy washing the dishes. She says to her mother’s back, “Mom, do you know what day it is?” Her mom, still busy washing replies, “Mm hmm.” She stares at her mom’s back for a moment, and then turns toward her dad, who is sipping his coffee and reading the morning newspaper. “Dad, did you know what day it is?” He turns the page and replies, “Of course, how lovely.” She looks at them. Her smile fades. Her joy disappears. “Well, where are my presents?” she asks more to herself than her parents. “They’re in the living room,” her dad replies. At those words, her smile returns. She rushes out of the kitchen. She stops in front of a box. Brown, ordinary, a box. She opens it, pulls out a black dress skirt, a white blouse and a shiny pair of dress shoes. She puts them aside. Stares back into the box. Throws it to the side. Looks around and goes back into the kitchen with the clothes and the shoes dangling at her side. She stands at the doorway, staring at her parents. Her mom turns toward her and grabs the blouse and holds it in front of her. “I hope this fits you right, I don’t want to have to go back and get a new one.” She stares at her mom, at the blouse being pushed against her. “Why did you get me clothes? I don’t need clothes, I don’t want clothes.” Her mom keeps fidgeting at the blouse. “You knew I wanted an add on bedroom for my dollhouse, you knew that.” Her parents stop what they are doing and smirk. Her dad responds, “ Honey, don’t you think you are getting a little too old for playing with your doll house?” He looks back at her mom, she replies. “You just turned twelve, it’s about time you started acting your age. Now go upstairs and change out of these disgusting, raggedy oldclothes and put on your new ones.” The mom goes back to cleaning and her dad leaves the table. She sighs. Looks at her brother. Stares for a moment at his simple joy he has over a bowl of cereal. She walks back up to her room. She opens her bedroom door, slowly walks in and shuts the door slowly behind her. She pauses. Looks around her room at her blankets on the ground. At her walls, at her bed, at her dolls. At the picture of her friends at the circus. She throws the clothes onto the bed. She takes off the hat on her head and throws it into the closet. She looks at herself in the mirror. Stares at herself for a moment. She sighs. She grabs her doll house and places it into a deep crevice in her closet. She moves to her bed and grabs her new blouse. Unbuttons slowly. She looks at her calendar marked with red. 12 years. 4380 days. 105120 hours.
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