Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/

September 7, 1999

RATING: PG13.

FANDOM/SPOILERS: X-Files. No spoilers.

SUMMARY: Sketch of Spender. Happy birthday.

DISTRIBUTION: Archive anywhere. Email forwarding allowed.

DISCLAIMER: CC, 1013, Fox, not me.


IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL CRY IF I WANT TO
by Halrloprillalar - hal@prillalar.com

Seventeen. He was seventeen today. Jeff rolled out of bed and went
to the kitchen to make coffee. So what was so great about
seventeen? He'd had his license for a year already. He was still
too young to vote, too young to drink. Old enough to fuck, but when
had the opportunity ever presented itself?

It was almost noon -- he'd slept in, just like any other Saturday.
Mom was in the hospital, just like too many other Saturdays. Jeff
watched cartoons and ate cereal until he figured he could stand to
go.

Seventeen. Big deal. What was a birthday anyhow? Just a celebration
of something you really didn't accomplish yourself. Hey, Jeff,
you're still alive. Congratulations.

She was still unconscious. Her dishwater-blonde hair straggled over
the pillow and her eyes were sunken in. She looked odd without a
cigarette between her fingers. Jeff took her hand and found the
nicotine stains had been scrubbed away. He couldn't bear to stay
more than a few minutes.

Seventeen. So what was the big deal about staying alive in the
first place? What good did it do Mom? What good did it do him?

He drove and drove, knowing he couldn't afford to waste the gas,
but not caring. A little extra gas on his birthday. Great present.
And when there wasn't anywhere else to drive, he went home and sat
in his bedroom, plucking at his guitar with the curtains drawn.

Seventeen. Fuck birthdays. It was immature to remember them anyhow.
He'd pop anyone who tried to remember his. Even if his fucking
father came crawling back with presents and apologies, Jeff would
spit in his face. He'd paste him. Throw a punch as soon as he heard
the words--

The doorbell rang. It was Troy. "Happy Birthday, Jeff." Troy's hair
was falling over his forehead and he was grinning.

"Thanks." The evening was cool and beautiful.

"C'mon. The girls are in the car. We're going to take you out." He
waited while Jeff grabbed jacket and shoes, then propelled him down
the walk with an arm over his shoulders.

Jeff climbed into the back seat beside Cheryl. She kissed him on
the cheek. He smiled.

Seventeen.

F I N I S

Halrloprillalar   hal@prillalar.com   http://prillalar.com/