Michael Griffo - Unafraid

Next, Michael removed the lid from the box and, although he was stunned by what he saw, when he inspected the gift further he couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“You hate it!” Fritz cried.

“No,” Michael protested. “I love it.”

Shaking his head, Fritz pouted. “No you don’t, mate. I can see it in your face.”

“Seriously, Fritz, I love it,” Michael said. “But ...”

“I knew it!” Fritz shouted. “Nothing’s ever any bloody good if you have to say ‘but’!”

“I just don’t think I look like this.”

To get a more objective opinion Michael held up Fritz’s gift to the others. It was a whole issue of his comic book, Tales of the Double A, that was clearly a dedication to Michael, entitled Invasion From Nebraska . Most of the cover was filled up with a close-up drawing of Michael’s face. At least Michael thought it was supposed to be his face; he wasn’t completely sure.

Taking the comic book from Michael’s hands, Ronan glanced at it and nodded approvingly. “Looks just like you, love.” To Fritz he added, “You really captured his eyes.”

As proud as a cross-legged peacock, Fritz grinned. “Thanks, mate.”

Slightly appalled, Michael grabbed the comic book back from Ronan. “I do not look like this!”

This time Ciaran grabbed the comic book out of Michael’s hands so he and Saoirse could get a better look at Fritz’s artistic rendering of their friend. “Oh sure you do,” Ciaran confirmed. “Looks just like you.”

“Especially before you put your hair gel in,” Saoirse added. “And, you know, gussy yourself up.”

Luckily, Michael knew when he was beaten as well as when to let go of his vanity. “Then I think it’s positively perfect, Fritz!” Michael declared. “I absolutely love it.”

Still beaming, Fritz conveyed a bit about the plot of the Michael-centric issue. “I called it Invasion From Nebraska ’cause it’s all about how you came to Double A from America.”

“That is brill, Fritz,” Ronan shouted, truly impressed.

“Except that you’re a zombie and you bring with you a tribe of Nebraskan zombies who try to kill all of us students,” Fritz explained. “Well, I won’t say anymore ’cause I don’t want to spoil the plot.”

Now that Michael had gotten over the shock of seeing himself depicted as a comic book character he was downright thrilled to be the focal point of the issue. Saoirse, however, wasn’t convinced it was as great an idea as everyone else was. “Didn’t you already have an issue about zombies?”

“Yes!” Fritz admitted. “But it sold out in a bloody hour! Everybody loves zombies, Seersh.”

Jumping onto her knees, Saoirse bounced up and down on the bed. “I forgot to tell you all that I have a new nickname,” she announced. “Henceforth and jolly-o, please address me as Seersh.”

Michael smiled. He really enjoyed being in this girl’s presence. She could be frustrating, annoying at times, but she never failed to make him laugh. He glanced over at Ronan, and he could see that he felt the same way. “Will do, Seersh,” Michael confirmed. “Should I open your gift next?”

“No,” she replied. “I’ve decided that I want to go last.”

“Because it’s a lady’s prerogative to change her mind?” Ronan asked.

Smiling devilishly, she answered, “You should know, Lady Ronan.”

Again the kids cracked up, and even though Ronan found the joke funny there was no way he was going to allow his sister to stick him with such a nickname. “You call me that again, Seersh,” Ronan informed her, “and you’ll be back at Ecoles des Roaches in time for the next semester.”

“All right, ladies, enough, it’s time for my gift,” Ciaran announced, then added a bit more seriously, “I hope you like it, Michael.”

Taking the package from Ciaran, Michael immediately noticed it was much heavier than Fritz’s gift. “Thanks, Ciaran, I’m sure I will.”

In spite of his certainty he once again found himself trying to hide his disappointment as he stared at Ciaran’s gift. “Um, thanks,” Michael mumbled. “I guess I can always use some more notebooks.”

Ciaran wasn’t upset by Michael’s reaction; in fact, he had anticipated Michael wouldn’t be excited at first. “No, open them up.”

Michael opened up the notebook on top of the pile to find that it was already written in. He flipped through the pages and found that the handwriting continued on every page. The whole book was filled with scribbling, numbers, and diagrams. “Oh they’re used notebooks,” Michael revealed, somewhat sarcastically. “Well, you know, you can never have enough of those.”

Obviously Michael wasn’t getting the true nature of Ciaran’s gift, so Ciaran had to explain.

“They’re my notebooks from advanced geometry and chemistry last year.” Although Ciaran was going to be a junior like the other boys, he had been taking additional accelerated science and math classes for the past two years, so he was a year ahead of them in certain subjects. “I thought you could benefit from my, um, expertise,” Ciaran said, somewhat sheepishly.

Despite his initial skepticism, it turned out to be another great gift. “This is absolutely incredible, Ciaran!” Michael shouted. “You know how I hate chem labs.”

Equally surprised and impressed by his brother’s generosity, Ronan couldn’t find the words to respond. Saoirse didn’t have that problem. “Isn’t that called cheating?” she asked.

Before Ciaran could rationalize the ethics of his gift, Fritz jumped to his friend’s defense. “It’s what mates do for each other, Seersh,” Fritz explained. “And I’ve been teaching Ciaran how to be a right proper mate.”

“Well, you’ve done good, Fritz,” Ronan declared, finally finding his voice.

“So based on these first two gifts,” Michael started, “I guess this means that I have bad hair and I’m stupid.”

“Quite,” Ciaran replied dryly.

How wonderful to be insulted by your friends on your birthday, Michael thought.

The boys jabbered on for a few more minutes, the conversation flowing from how thoughtful Michael thought the gifts were to how Fritz’s sense of humor was rubbing off on Ciaran to how Ronan might want to take a peek at those notebooks as well since he disliked chemistry almost as much as Michael did. The chattering continued until Saoirse couldn’t take it any longer.

“Oh put a bung in it boys, will ya!” she cried. “It’s time for me to give Michael my gift.”

Effectively silenced, the boys willingly gave the spotlight over to Saoirse, knowing full well that it was useless trying to prevent the handoff once she had decided she was entitled to it. “I really hope you like it,” she said, suddenly shy.

“If it’s half as beautiful as this wrapping paper, I know I will,” Michael said, taking the gift from her anxious hands. Even if the gift hadn’t been wrapped so artistically, he still would have made a big deal out of it; he had become aware since her arrival that Ronan’s sister had a little bit of a crush on him. “It’s really gorgeous, Saoirse, I mean Seersh,” Michael said. “Did you do it yourself?”

Self-conscious from Michael’s praise, Saoirse hoped the boys didn’t notice that her cheeks were growing a darker shade of pink. “Well, yeah, I did,” she admitted. “I thought you’d, um, like the colors.”

Fritz didn’t understand the appropriateness of the wrapping paper’s design, but to the other four the symbolism was obvious—it was an abstract depiction of the ocean. The paper’s design was a series of horizontal lines in deepening shades of blue from pale to navy. Saoirse had wrapped the package with a delicate white lace ribbon and topped it off with a huge, red bow. Fritz thought he understood the significance of the colors and although he was wrong, his assumption actually made sense.