Happy Birthday

I twist and turn in my chair, the creaking of its worn-out hinges echoing in the chambers of my sleep-deprived mind. Resting my head on my hand, the weight of exhaustion presses against my temples like a relentless force. With a sigh, I turn to the clock beside the bed, its glowing digits projecting an eerie green hue in my red and dry eyes. 10:58 PM flashes in bold, mocking digits. "It will only take 30 minutes," I scoff, I can’t believe I thought this would be easy. “At least it is the least assignment of the year,” I say, trying to revive my dead hopes.

Ding The sudden chirp of my phone interrupts the silent night. I glance at the screen, it’s Bianca, my twin sister. She's at a sleepover with her boyfriend, Chris, so why is she bothering me now?

"Can you send me your essay?" She texted. 

Rolling my eyes, I swipe her message away with a hint of annoyance. Slamming my phone down on the desk, frustration courses through my veins, mingling with the jumbled mess of my thoughts. "Focus, Focus!" I remind myself.

"Finally!" I exclaim, a surge of relief flooding through me as I complete the last paragraph. Jumping out of my chair, an exultant smile dances across my face. I sit back in my chair, now able to relax. I turn my head, only to encounter a nightmarish sight. 1:39 AM brightly and cruelly boasts on the face of the clock, my smile disappears. "No!" I scream in agony, the weight of defeat pushing me back into my seat. Despite the late hour, I submit the essay, “My GPA is gonna love this,” I sarcastically murmur.

A sudden knock on the door jolts me from my sulking, sending my heart racing in my chest. Mom and Dad are out of town, and Bia is with her boyfriend—so who could it be? I glance at my phone and breathe a sigh of relief as Bia's message appears.

"Could you at least unlock the front door? I forgot my key," she had texted.

"Yeah, coming, sorry!" I reply 20 minutes too late, my fingers flying across the screen with haste. I could tell she was irritated.

As I hurry down the stairs, MooMoo, our family cat, looks at me with wide-eyed apprehension, her fur bristling with unease. "It's just a thunderstorm, MooMoo," I reassure her, scooping her up in my arms as I make my way to the front door.

But as I reach for the handle, MooMoo's demeanor shifts, her hisses and scratches a frantic plea for escape. Gently, I set her down, puzzled by her unusual behavior. She has always despised thunderstorms, but this... this is different.

Outside, the storm rages on. With each resounding knock on the door angrier than the last, accompanied by Bianca's voice calling out my name, a sense of foreboding pours over me like a suffocating blanket.

"Give me a minute," I call out nervously, my steps hesitant as I approach the door. Poor Bia, I had no idea she was in the rain this long, I wouldn’t be surprised if she swung at me, I probably deserve it. With a deep breath, I fling it open, bracing myself for the inevitable scolding. But to my surprise, she wasn’t there.

"Hello?" My voice echoes into the night, swallowed by the darkness surrounding me. The words hang in the air; unanswered, and the broken boards on the porch and the empty doorsteps stare back at me. The only response I receive is the distant rumble of thunder, echoing the unsettling feeling now buried in my soul. I scan the area, fully expecting Bia to pop out and frighten me, but I see nothing but sporadic flashes of lightning.

I pull my phone out of my back pocket, it’s light illuminating my terrified face.

“Door’s open,” I text. No response.

“What the heck???” I text Bia. Nothing.

“WHAT THE HECK???? Answer!” I text again. I stand in the door frame. 10 minutes go by. Why is she not answering me?

“Bia??” I anxiously press send, her silence only intensifies my uneasiness. No longer able to handle the fear that is slowly suffocating me, I slam and lock the door. Pacing around the kitchen, I hold the phone to my ear, waiting for Bia’s response.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Bianca Fortachelli.” The phone blares into my ear.

My mind immediately immerses itself in every worst-case scenario possible. I scroll through my phone and click on Mom. In a hurry, I clicked the phone icon.

“Hello?” Mom answers. I can tell she just woke up.

“Mom, I’ve tried to call and text Bia but she won’t answer,” the uncontainable panic in my voice transforms my words into nonsense as I start to cry.

“What?” Her voice is now more alert and attentive. “Why isn’t she with you?” She says in a stern voice. I kinda forgot Bia wasn’t supposed to stay Chris and this was our secret.

“Oh, she was finishing a group project for…” What should I say? “For English!” I lie.

“She should be home by now, it’s 2:30 AM, I will call her, I'm sure it’s nothing, maybe she didn’t want to drive in the rain.” Mom tries to rationalize. 

“Yeah,” I replied unconvinced. We say our “I love you’s” and hang up. Nearly sprinting to the key rack, I snatch my keys, turn around, and, for a split second catch a glimpse of a pale, disheveled face peering through the window. I let out a frightened shriek. Quickly, with my heart in my throat, slamming and locking the door behind me, I slide behind the wheel and start the engine. The roar of the motor fades behind the sounds of the storm. The dark and devoid road stretches out before me as I go 80 in a 55, the heavy rain obscures my view, overtaking my windshield and rendering my windshield wipers useless. I try to call Bia once again, but my signal is dead. 

As I pull into Chris’s driveway, a familiar sound rings throughout my car, coming from my phone. Without hesitation, I picked it up. My eyes widen and my heart drops into my stomach as I read Bia’s message.

“Help.”

My laser focus on Bia’s message shielded me from the number of cars at Chris’s house. I dig under my car seat, reaching for it. Ah! Found it! I quickly put the blade in my coat pocket and threw my curly brown hair into a messy bun before hopping out of the car. As I get closer to his house, I notice the lights and begin to hear the music despite nature playing its own playlist. Is there a party?

The door is open. I frantically sneak into the house looking for Bia. Despite the party lights, the halls are relatively dim. I creep upstairs while whispering Bia’s name under my breath. Behind one of the doors, I hear hushed yelling between a man and a woman. Wait, the man’s voice sounds familiar, it’s Chris. But who is the girl? Swiftly, I scoot up to the door avoiding making direct contact with it.

“She’s gone, you don’t have to worry about her anymore,” the girl playfully whispers.

“I scared her pretty good,” Chris maniacally laughs.

I broke down in tears, hysterical, he killed my sister. Quickly, I ran down the stairs.

Surprise! Everyone shouts. My eyes immediately land on Bia, she is holding a cake and laughing to the point of tears.

“What is this?” I shout.

“Happy 18th birthday to you too sis,” Bia says, walking toward me.

“Come on, let's blow out our candles,” she says. 

“But what about Chris and that girl upstairs?” I ask.

“Chris is upstairs with his mom, we all knew you would show up here, this entire thing was planned,” Bia responded while hugging me.

“But no one saw me when I snuck in,” I argued.

Bia laughs, “You fooled no one, everyone saw you, the phone call with Mom was staged, the conversation upstairs was planned, Chris visiting the house was planned, and my texts to you were planned,” Bia reassured me.

I laughed, partly due to relief, and partly due to the insane night I just experienced. Everyone gathered around and hugged me, after the initial shock, Bia and I blew out our candles and had a blast.