Thanks For the Memories, part 1

Sylvia Sterling, a newly-minted "real adult" of twenty-one years old, doesn't spend her big birthday bar-crawling with her friends and getting smashed seven ways to Sunday.

Instead, she and her best friend slash partner-in-crime Zaden go out and steal a package off of someone's doorstep.

*

The front doors bang open and the furious owners rush out on slippered feet, a man and a woman of middling age. "Hey! Give us back our package, you punks!" howls the man, shaking an angry fist at them.

Sylvia pelts down the driveway and leaps into the driver's seat, sacrificing her usual grace for speed. She slams the door and turns the key. Zaden chants at her from the passenger side as he stares out the rear windshield, "Go, go, go, come on! Hurry, they're almost here!" Sylvia stomps down on the gas and peels away from the curb with a resounding shriek of rubber tires grinding against hot asphalt.

Behind them, the man's desperate cry rings out, "Stop, you thieves!"

Zaden rolls down the window an inch so he can yell out, "Catch us if you can, old man!" He cackles as they zoom down the street, tearing through an intersection just as the traffic light turns red, nearly crashing into the black SUV in front of them in their haste to get away.

Sylvia belts out her own hearty laugh as she winds her way around the slower drivers, "That was awesome! I can't believe that actually worked."

Her friend blows a stray tuft of dark hair out of his eyes, a mad grin splitting his handsome face in half. He strokes a hand over the brown box sitting in his lap. "You'd think people would've learned by now not to leave their deliveries outside," he says, pleased.

"Now we just gotta ditch this sucker." Sylvia makes a hard right at the next light. Dark gray clouds gather in the sky ahead of them, warning of the coming storm. "Are we meeting Clarence and Emile at the usual place?"

Zaden leans back in his seat and nods. "Yup. The old barn-house, west of Camp Eazy." He snaps his fingers and makes bang-bang noises out the window, pointing north. "That way, my dear."

"Well, we gotta get another ride first. I'm sure they'll be looking for this one before long."

Zaden smirks and pulls out his phone, "Way ahead of you. I already called Peyton to pick us up from the park nearby."

"And that's why you're my favorite, Zay."

"Duh!" They share another laugh between them.

Sylvia spins the wheel to turn into a discreet side street, where they cruise by several ramshackle houses in varying states of disrepair. One has a crowd of people sitting around in the front yard, taking turns hitting the bongs and saturating the air with the pungent smell of weed. They watch the truck rush through with dazed eyes.

Sylvia parks the truck behind a copse of evergreen trees and both she and Zaden clamber out. She pulls out a pack of wet wipes and wipes down whichever parts of the truck she had touched, then she passes the pack to Zaden so he can do the same on the other side.

Fingerprints erased, they hurry away in the direction of the small park ahead, tossing victorious grins back and forth.

Zaden is the first to spot Peyton's car, a tiny blue Mini Cooper with an angry bull decal plastered across half of the trunk. Peyton rolls down the window when they come jogging up to the car, an incredulous smile twisting his lips.

"Wait, you were serious about stealing someone's package off their doorstep? Dude! I better not get some cops on my tail for this," he sighs, unlocking the passenger doors so that Sylvia and Zaden can get in.

"So let's get out of here before they find us," says Sylvia, shrugging.

"Roger that!" Once Sylvia and Zaden are buckled in, Peyton rolls up his window and they drive away. As he merges with the slow traffic of the residential area, he looks at Sylvia through the rearview mirror and winks. "Happy birthday, by the way, little Syl!"

Sylvia groans, dragging one hand down her face. "Thanks, but will you please stop calling me that, I'm not that small!"

"Never!" declares Peyton, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Zaden. "You're the littlest in our group, so you're gonna be 'little Syl' forever!"

"Nooo," whines Sylvia, falling back against her seat with a dramatic swoon. "Zaden, tell him off!"

"Off," deadpans Zaden, then breaks out into peals of laughter when Sylvia shoves his shoulder.

"I hate you guys." But the fond smile on her face shows that she doesn't mean it. She sits back up and leans forward. "Hey, pass me the box, Zay. I wanna see what's inside."

Zaden hands over the box, which is surprisingly heavy. "The birthday girl sure is impatient today, isn't she, Pey?"

Peyton nods along as he cranks up the music volume till their seats vibrate with the sound of heavy drumming, earning them dirty glares from other drivers on the road. "Sure is, Zay. Can't even wait for cake first—"

"Cake?!" gasps Sylvia.

"Yep. Emile texted me about it earlier. They've got booze, too."

"I take it back, I love you guys." Sylvia pats both of her friends on the shoulder, smiling widely from ear to ear. She slides the package to the other passenger seat next to her, deciding to wait to open it until they meet up with their other two friends.

Peyton squints at the horizon as they stop at the next traffic light. "We might have to hurry, though. Looks like there's one hell of a storm brewing up ahead."

Zaden checks the weather forecast on his phone. "It's not supposed to start raining for another two hours, so I think we'll be fine. It only takes about half an hour to get to the old barn-house from here." He stretches his legs out as much as he can in the tiny car.

"I can't wait for cake," says Sylvia, drooling a little. She presses herself against the window when the light turns green, because she knows there's a local patisserie on the corner that always displays the most beautiful, luxurious, three-tier chocolate cake she's ever seen in her life; a perfect fantasy. The cake Emile supposedly bought probably isn't anywhere near as grand as the one in the patisserie display window, but hey, any cake is still a cake. What's a birthday without cake, right?

*

The old barn-house west of Camp Eazy has definitely seen better days. The painted exterior has long since worn down to a shade of brown reminiscent of dried blood, the wood splintering in some parts and growing moss at the corners. The abandoned building looks even more dead against the backdrop of wild marigolds growing behind it, a rolling sea of oranges and greens that appears washed out by the gloomy light of the overcast sky.

Clarence and Emile have taken refuge inside the old barn-house, a green picnic blanket spread out over the barren ground. When Peyton, Zaden, and Sylvia enter, the other two stand up to greet them.

"Happy birthday, little Syl." Clarence's smile is warm as he engulfs Sylvia in a crushing bear-hug.

Sylvia thumps her tiny fist against her friend's broad chest. "You're the only one who can call me that," she says, because Clarence is a six-foot-five giant who makes everyone else feel small in comparison.

"What about me?" Emile pouts.

"You're only an inch taller than me, shut up!"

"Stingy."

"Hey, no insulting the birthday girl!" Sylvia wiggles her way out of Clarence's arms and makes her way over to the picnic blanket. "Where's my cake and booze?"

The four boys crowd around her on the blanket as Emile brings out the promised cake. Sylvia's eyes grow round with surprise when she realizes that it's the very same chocolate cake she had been eyeing from the patisserie earlier.

"Oh my god," she says, faintly. Then, in the next breath, "Marry me, Emile."

"Gross, you're like my sister."

"You're right, I deserve someone taller."

"Hey!"

They all share a round of laughs at that. Emile hadn't brought any candles because he hadn't wanted to set the barn-house on fire by accident, so he had put a homemade '21' flag on top of the cake instead. The contrast of the beautiful cake with its swooping chocolate icing ribbons and tuxedo pearls with the crude, handwritten flag fashioned from two toothpicks and red sharpie on a piece of lined notebook paper makes the cake look rather silly.

Sylvia loves it.

The boys sing the birthday song to her in varying off-key tones, then Clarence helps Sylvia divvy up the cake. She moans around her first forkful as decadent, chocolatey goodness fills her tastebuds. She'll never want any other chocolate cake ever again.

Peyton opens the cooler and takes out a bottle. "You guys got Smirnoff Ice?" he guffaws. "That's classic!"

"Shaddup, we didn't want little Syl to drink pig swill on her birthday!"

"Is that what they're calling beer these days?" Zaden swipes the bottle out of Peyton's hand.

"Oi, I had that first!"

"You're the driver today, Mr. Rengstorf."

"Damn it." Peyton eyes the cooler sadly.

Sylvia grabs one of the Screwdriver flavor and pops it open. The taste of oranges and vodka fizzes pleasantly on her tongue. "I think it's time to open my present," she announces.

"Oh yeah, the package!" Zaden brings it over to her. "We went through all that trouble to steal it, might as well see what's inside!"

Emile chokes on his cake. "You guys stole something?" He glances around nervously, as if suddenly expecting the police to barge in at any second and arrest them.

Clarence looks similarly troubled. "That's not right," he says, his brows furrowed. "You should give it back."

"We will! But I wanna see what's inside first." Sylvia tears the box open eagerly, expecting some expensive gadget off Amazon or something similar.

But she stops and stares down at the contents. "Oh," she utters in a very small voice.

Alarmed by her reaction, the boys scramble over to peer at the box's contents.

"Is that a jar?" Peyton frowns. "And a photo album?"

"Looks more like an urn to me," says Clarence.

Zaden blanches, and Emile turns green. "I'm gonna be sick," he whimpers, getting to his feet and dashing outside. The sound of retching is drowned out by an abrupt roar of thunder, which makes everyone jump in fright. The abandoned building creaks in protest as the wind begins to pick up speed.

"L-let's get out of here!" Nobody protests Sylvia's decision and they pack up the rest of the cake and the picnic blanket.

Before they can exit the barn-house, the heavens open up, letting loose a ferocious torrential rain that instantly soaks them to the bone.

"Run for it!" yells Zaden, dashing out into the storm, trying to cover his head with his arms. Peyton follows him quickly. Clarence hauls Emile to his feet and they sprint towards their own car, getting mud all over their shoes.

Sylvia is the only one who stays inside the barn-house, desperately trying to keep the box from getting wet as rain drips through all the cracks in the rotting wood.

"Sylvia, hurry up!" Zaden waves at her.

"I can't," she screams back, raising her voice to be heard over the pounding rain. "The box will get wet!"

"Just leave it there!"

"No!"

Not when this box contains someone's precious memories... memories that she stole.

"Sylvia—"

Her heart lurches in her chest when the wooden beams above her head give an almighty crack. She hears her boys yelling in fear, Zaden pleading for her to leave before it's too late.

For a split second, the box seems to grow warm between her hands.

And then the entire barn-house collapses around her, and she knows no more.