Balloons. Miles of ribbon. Fairy lights strung across every possible surface. Half my classmates packed into the living room pretending they were there for me when really, it'd be for the free cake, bad dancing, and spiked punch. And of course, Carly Rae Jepsen and Taylor Swift looping in the background like some glittery soundtrack to my personal horror movie.
And I'd have to act surprised.
You might be wondering: what's so bad about a surprise party? Most people would kill for one. But here's the thing—
My dad died on my birthday.
So yeah, I don't celebrate. I survive the day. Quietly.
Which is why, when I pushed open the front door, I held my breath.
And then frowned.
"Huh."
The living room was dark. So was the hallway. I mean, sure, that's how surprise parties work—lights off, everyone hiding. But there were no silhouettes, no rustle of movement, no awkward shushing. Just... nothing.
I flipped on the lights. The room was empty. No balloons. No party smell. Just the weird, quiet stillness of an untouched house.
Maybe they were hiding upstairs? In the laundry basket? Hanging from the ceiling like party-trained ninjas?
I checked. Every. Room. Even the bathtub. Nada.
The kitchen? Also a ghost town—except for a single note stuck to the fridge:
WORKING A DOUBLE SHIFT. CHARLIE BACK TOMORROW FROM FISHING WITH BILLY. LEFTOVER PIZZA IN FRIDGE. LOCK THE DOORS & SET THE ALARM. —KIMI
I snorted. "As if that'll keep out vampires and actual monsters."
So I was surprised, just... not in the way I thought.
Maybe Alice did listen to me. Maybe there wasn't going to be a surprise party after all. Maybe Edward meant Alice left a gift, not an ambush of hormonal teenagers trampling my house.
Honestly? I was relieved.
I didn't want to stand around all night pretending to be grateful for people I barely talked to yelling "Happy Birthday" in my face while secretly just waiting for the cake. And the thought of people touching my stuff? Nope. Hard pass.
