Mr. I Don't Smile

27. truth and liars

27. truth and liars

Ciera

My parents were going to be dead by the time they returned home. Because I was going to fly out and kill them.

"I'm going to ask you one last time. Where is my birth certificate?"

I had scoured their office for hours, tearing apart everything in there when they refused to tell me. When I had no luck, I called them back to lose my dignity and beg.

But they wanted to ruin every last thing in my life.

"It's not at home," my mom finally conceded.

"Clearly. I realized that when I took every last thing out of your office."

"You did what?"

I scoffed. "Why do you even care? It's not like you'll even be home to see it. You know, it's my birthday in a few days. I already know you won't come back to see me and I don't want you to. We're done. I no longer want you in my life."

"You live in our house!"

"And I will continue to until my graduation in six months. But after that, I'll promise you'll never have to see me again. I just need my birth certificate."

"What's so important about it?"

"I should be asking you that. Why are you keeping it from me."

"I asked you a question, young lady!"

I rolled my eyes. "If you must know, I was invited to an all expenses paid trip to France." I then bluffed. "And my acceptance to the National School of Fine Arts is almost guaranteed. But I need my birth certificate as identification. You want me out of your life so bad? I'm giving you the opportunity. So where the fuck is it?"

I heard utter silence.

I waited for over a minute before the line went dead.

The bitch had the audacity to hang up on me.

)()(

Apparently my body has fully adjusted to the fact that we're on break and I wake up at ten thirty in the morning. I move to my bathroom and brush my teeth with peppermint scented toothpaste. It helps me get in the Christmas spirit.

Hold up.

It's Christmas.

My birthday.

Just that realization gets me in a good mood. I grab a chunk of my hair and brush it aggressively. We always record our Christmases so I can't look like a demon in front of the camera.

I put two French braids in my hair but stop halfway, putting them in ponytails. I make sure to get dressed before I go downstairs. An oversized Tweety Bird sweater with a Santa hat on and leggings.

When I make it to the kitchen, Rosalie, Theo, and Clara are sitting at the island eating pancakes and bacon.

Déjà vu.

"Good morning, everyone!" I say cheerily.

"Good morning!" they all greet back.

"Where's mine?" I ask Camila. She smiles, revealing something under a lid. A stack of pancakes with bacon on the side with a candle.

"Happy eighteenth!" she squeals.

My eyes go wide in surprise. "Come on, blow the candle out." I look around at the family around me—the family that wants me—before closing my eyes.