Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25 (Book 1)

Saturday morning my mother got up early and made my second favorite breakfast: hot chocolate and crepes, both of them topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. My birthday was the one time of year that my mother said nothing when I filled my plate with more whipped cream than crepe.

She made herself a simple crepe with butter and powdered sugar then sat down next to me. “I’m sorry I have to work today. Are you sure you’re okay with celebrating after school on Monday?”

“I don’t care what day we celebrate,” I said with my mouth full.

“And we’ll have cake and ice cream tonight. Do you and Ostin still want to go to the new aquarium on Monday?”

“Yeah. And can we go to PizzaMax for dinner?”

“Whatever you want. It’s your day.” She smiled at me and her eyes got all sparkly. “I can’t believe you’re fifteen. Another year and you’ll be driving. You’ve grown into such a fine young man. I am so proud of you.”

My mom always got emotional on my birthdays. “Watermark moments,” she called them. Whatever that means.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Wait, I have a present.” She ran out of the room and came back a moment later carrying a small rectangular box wrapped in tissue paper. “I know we usually wait until we have cake to open presents, but I wanted to give this to you now. It’s special.”

I pulled off the wrapping to expose a dark blue velvet box. I opened it. Inside was a man’s watch.

“Wow.”

“It was your father’s,” she said.

I lifted it out of the box, admiring it.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“A lot. It’s cool.”

“Well, you’re a man now, so I wanted to give you something special. Turn it over; there’s something on the back.”

I turned the watch around. It read, I LOVE YOU FOREVER—MOM.

“I had it engraved,” she said.

I hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.”

I couldn’t imagine a better gift. I wanted to tell her that she was the best mother in the world. I didn’t. I should have.