The Worst Prom Date Ever

13.1 • The Worst Birthday Surprise Ever

PIPER • [6:01 a.m.] 

"Pipes? Pipes? Hello..." I furrowed my eyebrows and wrinkled my nose at the faint voice that I was hearing. I turned my body to other side of the bed, covering my head with my pillow to drown the voice that was so persistent in waking me up. It was so early in the morning, and school didn't even start until 8 AM.

"Piper, get up."

"Go away Paz," I said in a muffled and sleepy voice. Can he not see that I was still in the middle of—"Oof!" he cut me off mid-sentence as I felt both of his hands grabbed my ankles and dragged me out of my bed.

I landed on the carpet floor with a soft thud, and began positioning myself in a fetus-like manner and made my best fake snore ever, hoping that it'll hint him to let me sleep for at least thirty more minutes. He still kept on bugging me as I weakly shoo him away.

"C'mon Piper, it's your birthday today! I made your favorite set of breakfast," he urged.

Slowly opening my right eye, I glanced up at my wall clock, reading as it was only 6:03 a.m. I still have twenty-seven minutes left to sleep, as I only prepare for school for an hour.

I heard my big brother dragged a sigh when I didn't react. "Do you want me to give you a piggy back ride going downstairs?" A smile crept up my lips as I heard him chuckle. I nodded and propped myself up from the floor, with Pascal bending his knees, waiting for me to hop on. 

"Come on."

I quickly hopped on to Pascal's back and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "God, Piper. You're so heavy!" he complained, although we both know it was a joke, so I stuck out a tongue. 

If Pascal used to playfully give Mei piggyback rides back in high school with ease, then I shouldn't be a hassle for him.

"You can't do anything. It's my birthday, anyway!" I said, as we both descended downstairs.

I was welcomed with our smiling father in the dining room pouring orange juice to our glasses. "Happy birthday, my one and only daughter!" he exclaimed, kissing the top of my head while I was still being carried by Pascal. 

"Thank you, Dad!" I replied with a smile plastered on my face.

Both Pascal and I made a round at the table, giving me a quick tour of the set of breakfast dishes that he laid out. "French toast roll-ups, breakfast quesadilla, homemade pancakes—"

"—with bacon in them?" I interrupted. Pancakes with bacon were the best. Mom used to make them for me almost every single day.

"Yes, with bacon in them," he reiterated with a proud smug on his face, like he got it right this time. Pascal would usually cook me strawberry-filled pancakes, and I disliked strawberries.

"Thank you, Pascal!" I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek before hopping down from him and settling on the dining chair. I began stabbing on the stack of pancakes right in front of me, and placed it on my plate. I added the maple syrup and started to devour my plate like a lion that hasn't eaten for a week.

My dad gave a surprised reaction, putting down the newspaper that he was reading. "Easy, sweetheart! Did turning eighteen magically increased your appetite or something?"

I swallowed what I was chewing before I could answer my dad. "I guess," I then turned to Pascal to ask a question, who was busy texting someone on his phone. "By the way, where are the ingredients that we're going to bake when I get home later?"

Pascal turned to me, albeit quite distracted. "Hm? Oh, the ingredients. Yeah. Um, someone baked it for you."

My eyes widened in curiosity. "What? Why? But I want to make the lemon square cake," I quietly protested.