busy.

Are we in the right place?

I felt something inside me drop.

I called Patricia right away.

She answered after several rings.

There was loud music in the background, adult voices, and some kind of microphone feedback.

“Patricia,” I said, already moving toward the door, “what is going on? Why are people there already?”

There was a pause that lasted just a little too long.

Then she said, “Jessica, you need to get here right now.”

Her voice sounded strained.

Not casual.

Not confused.

Wrong.

I didn’t tell Emma much.

I just said we were leaving early.

Mrs.

Chen must have seen my face because she didn’t ask questions.

She got us into her car and drove to Riverside Park in record time.

As soon as we turned into the lot, I knew.

Purple and silver balloons covered the pavilion.

Not pink and gold.

Not a princess theme.

Purple and silver.

There was music pumping through the speakers.

Adult music, not the princess playlist Patricia and I had chosen.

The tables were arranged differently too.

The little crown centerpieces were gone.

In their place were tall silver vases with purple flowers.

Then I saw the banner.

Happy 35th, Vanessa.

For one second, everything went fuzzy, like my brain refused to process what my eyes were seeing.

I got out of the car and walked fast, then faster, then practically ran.

Emma came behind me clutching her skirt.

Inside, the pavilion was full of people.

Some were our relatives.

Some were Vanessa’s friends.

Some I didn’t recognize at all.

The castle backdrop I had paid for stood at the front, but Emma’s name had been removed and replaced with Vanessa’s in glittering script.

My daughter’s color scheme was gone.

The dessert table had been transformed into some upscale-looking adult display with cocktail glasses and purple macarons.

There was no blue princess cake.

I scanned the room wildly until I found Emma.

She was in a folding chair near the back corner, crying with her face red and blotchy, her hands twisted into the fabric of her dress.

The face painting station sat unopened beside her like an abandoned prop.

“Emma.”

The second she saw me, she jumped up and ran into my arms.

Her whole body was shaking.

“Mommy,” she sobbed, “Aunt Vanessa said I can still have some of the party later.

She said the grown-up part has to go first.”

I felt something hot rush up my spine.

Some of the party.

Later.

For her own birthday.

I looked up and saw Vanessa.

She was standing near the front in a fitted silver dress with her hair professionally styled, a drink in her hand, laughing with two of her friends like she had stepped into her own spotlight and found it comfortable.

My mother stood beside her wearing a purple blouse, as if she had dressed for the theme.

Vanessa noticed me and broke into a smile so bright it made my stomach turn.

“There you are,” she said.

“I was wondering how long you’d take.”

I stared at her.

“What is this?”

She gave a theatrical little shrug.

“A birthday party.

Relax.

There was a misunderstanding with the venue and timing, so we combined things.

Emma’s seven.

She won’t remember the details.”

I actually heard Mrs.

Chen