Free The Birthday Room by Kevin Henkes

year. He had saved it, hidden it away in the back of his desk drawer in his room. Something about it intrigued him, but he didn’t want to mention it in case Lynnie thought it gross. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think I have anything.”
    â€œWhat about Icky Pee?” Kale asked.
    â€œIcky Pee?” said Ben.
    â€œKale!” Lynnie whispered fiercely. “Be quiet!”
    Ben’s forehead wrinkled. He saw Lynnie curse Kale with her eyes. Elka’s comment from dinner the night before raced back to him: “ Icky Pee is gone .” He knew, with a stab of insight, before the explanation came, that it was his missing finger they were talking about, and the knowing made him slip his left hand into his pocket.
    Elka was still holding his right hand. She broke the grasp and turned his palm so it was open, facing her. One by one, she pointed to Ben’s fingers, starting with his pinkie. “This is Icky Pee,” she said. “And this is Penny Roo. And this is Mary Ossle. And this is Ollie Whistle. And this,” she said, ending with his thumb, “is Big Tom Bobbilee.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Those are the names of the fingers. My grandma taught them to us.” She grabbed his hand again, to hold it, but he wiggled free, pulled his hand away, and scratched his head.
    â€œYou don’t have your other Icky Pee,” Kale remarked.
    â€œDo you know where it is?” Elka asked quietly.
    â€œCan I see where it was?” asked Kale.
    â€œWhat happened to it?” Elka whispered.
    â€œYou two—” Lynnie shook her head and exhaled noisily. “I . . .” She struggled for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said to Ben, blushing, looking at his shirt, not his eyes.
    â€œIt’s okay,” said Ben, pushing his other hand into his pocket, slowly, self-consciously.
    â€œWill you show us?” Kale asked.
    Lynnie said, “I’ll take them home. It’s almost lunchtime, anyway.”
    â€œNo, wait,” said Ben.
    Normally, Kale and Elka’s fascination with his missing finger wouldn’t have bothered Ben (he might even have laughed about Icky Pee), but he could tell that Lynnie was embarrassed, and so he was embarrassed, too. His hands felt clammy and clumsy. If only he could distract Kale and Elka in some way, turn their attention from him to something better. Thinking fast, he looked at the tree. His eyes bounced about the dead wood and the decorations, lighting on nothing, until they picked out a fleck of green at the tree’s highest point.
    â€œHey, look,” Ben said loudly, nodding. “Look. At the top of the tree. I see green. Maybe the tree really is coming back to life.”
    Kale and Elka craned their necks. They took baby steps—to the side, forward—stopping when they caught the sliver of green in their sights. Their voices rang out. “There it is!” “It’s a teeny weeny leaf!”
    Soon the twins were hunched together, speaking in hushed tones. Ben couldn’t make out much of what they were saying, but he did hear, “We should start watering it again,” and “Maybe we could use some of Grandma’s plant food.”
    A breeze sheared past, and Ben saw the little spot of green quiver. The green was not the green of a new leaf. It was too dark and shiny. He guessed it was a windblown piece of either a balloon or a plastic garbage bag that happened to be snagged on the tip of one of the tallest branches.
    Ben and Lynnie went back to where Lynnie’s beach towel was, but they remained standing. Silence fell between them for a few moments. The air was filled with so many noises, Ben thought, if you really listened. With his head dipped, chin to chest, Ben watched the rise and fall of his breathing.
    Lynnie placed one foot flat against the inside of the opposite calf, balancing like some kind of waterbird. The foot slid