Part 2 (1/2)

”Heard you gave 'em quite a show tonight,” Hannah's dad says.

”Yes, sir,” Clay says, his deep voice vibrating with pride.

”That's great,” Hannah's dad says, and then he says nothing else. Hannah strains her ears past Baker and her mom's conversation to listen to the pocket of silence in the family room. She pictures her dad s.h.i.+fting his eyes from boy to boy, wondering what to say, his mouth half-open around another pleasantry. Joanie gives her a look.

”We'd better get back in there for cake,” Wally says, his voice more robust than normal. ”Good to see you, Mr. Eaden.”

”See you later, Mr. Eaden,” Luke and Clay say.

The boys come back into the kitchen and there's a spike in volume from the TV in the family room. Hannah looks automatically at Wally. His mouth curves in a simple smile to let her know everything is okay.

There are remnants of Christmas littered all throughout the kitchen: a plate of stale gingerbread cookies that Joanie never finished decorating; a collage of holiday greeting cards tacked up with magnets on the fridge; a dying poinsettia in the middle of the table, its blood red petals withering right in front of them, though none of them notice. Hannah gathers silverware from the drawer in the counter and her mom's mint green dessert plates from the cabinet above the coffee maker, and all the while she feels a beating thrill in her stomach, that same thrill she feels every year at the start of Carnival season, when the King Cakes first appear on store shelves and the neighbors on the corner hang their purple, green, and yellow flag off the side of their house, and her cla.s.smates at school talk about which Mardi Gras b.a.l.l.s their older siblings are going to or where their family plans to go skiing during the long weekend. ”It's the best d.a.m.n time to be a Louisianan,” Clay always says, and Hannah, glancing at her friends, agrees.

”How can I help?” Baker asks, appearing at Hannah's side.

”You can go enjoy your unofficial birthday party.”

”I am enjoying it,” Baker says, ”but let me help you.”

”I'm pretending to be a domestic G.o.ddess right now,” Hannah says. ”Just let me have my moment.”

”What kind of cake did you get?”

Hannah slides the cake box toward her. When Baker glances down at it, Hannah says, ”Open it.”

”You got a King Cake?” Baker exclaims, looking down at the icing-coated cake ring.

”Are you surprised?” Luke calls from the table. ”We're obviously going to use your Epiphany birthday to kill two birds with one stone. What kinds of friends would we be otherwise?”

”I can't wait to eat it,” Clay says, reaching his hand out.

Hannah slaps his hand away. ”I will punch you if you try to eat this before we sing.”

”Sorry, Mom,” he says, licking his finger and sticking it in her ear.

”Stop! Stop! Oh my G.o.d, just go make sure everyone has their drinks!”

”Did we get candles?” Luke asks. ”Or are we gonna sing without them, hard-a.s.s style?”

”We got some,” Wally says, fis.h.i.+ng them out of the grocery bag. He places them carefully into the King Cake, s.p.a.cing them equidistant from each other and taking pains not to mess up the icing more than he has to, and Hannah imagines him doing this for his mom or his little brothers with the same deliberate care.

”You really didn't have to do this for me,” Baker says, resting her eyes on the cake, then glancing up at Hannah.

”Of course we did, goober,” Hannah says, taking Baker's gla.s.s from the table and refilling it with sweet tea for her. ”This is actually probably the lamest birthday party we've ever had for you.”

”Well, nothing tops the one at California Pizza Kitchen,” Luke says.

”When you and Clay got her that Hannah Montana card and walked around the restaurant asking everyone to sign it?” Joanie asks.

”And then we went over to Urban Outfitters and Wally and I got her that book about hamsters dressed as Renaissance painters?” Hannah says.

”I still have that book,” Baker says. ”And that card. My mom keeps trying to steal it off my dresser and throw it away, but I always catch her.”

”How could she ever want to throw away something like that?” Joanie says.

They light the candles and gather around the cake, each of them leaning in on their elbows and yelling at each other not to breathe too hard over the 18 tiny flames. ”Ready?” Hannah says in a hushed, excited voice, and then five of them start to sing, with Clay and Luke affecting bullfrog voices and Wally pretending to conduct them, and Joanie laughing at Luke across the top of the cake, and Hannah watching Baker the whole time, watching how her eyes get even softer and her face looks disbelievingly happy, and how she tucks her hair self-consciously behind her ear when they all sing her name.

”Make a wis.h.!.+” Hannah reminds her, and Baker glances at her for a lightning-quick second, happiness evident in her eyes, before she blows out the candles on her cake.

”How has n.o.body found the baby yet?” Joanie says, stabbing her fork back into her cake. ”Someone always finds the baby during the first cut.”

”This Baby Jesus is holding out on us,” Hannah answers around a cream cheese-filled bite. ”Playing hard to get.”

”I'm cutting seconds,” Clay says with his mouth full. ”I want that baby.”

”I want that baby,” Hannah says.

”Careful, Clay,” Joanie says. ”Hannah gets really compet.i.tive about finding the Baby Jesus. She once pushed our cousin Warren into the refrigerator just to beat him to seconds. He had a bruise on his chest for a month.”

”That's an exaggeration,” Hannah says.

”Not so much. And I bet everyone here can believe it.”

”I can absolutely believe that,” Baker says, catching Hannah's eye.

Wally ends up cutting seconds for everyone-”We need a fair judge,” he says, elbowing Clay out of the way-and they all eat eagerly, watching each other's plates to see who unearths the plastic pink Christ child hidden within the cake.

”Bam!” Hannah says, digging the Baby Jesus out from beneath layers of bread and cream cheese. She holds the inch-long plastic figurine up for the others to see. ”I got him!”

”G.o.dd.a.m.n it,” Clay says.

”Well, how does he look?” Luke asks. ”Do we have ourselves a bouncing baby boy?”

”Does he look like the Messiah?” Wally adds. ”Think he's got the potential to save us all from our sins?”

”Doubtful,” Hannah says. ”But you know, this is probably the best Baby Jesus I've ever found in a King Cake.”

”Better than that one we found last year?” Baker asks.

”Are you referring to the one you 'accidentally' threw away?”

”Don't bring that up,” Baker laughs, lowering her eyes back to her cake. ”I still feel bad about that.”

”You know who else feels bad about that? Jesus. Because you denied him.”

”Hey now,” Clay says. ”Let's get this mocking under control.”