The Geek Revolution ✓

52 | eighteenth

MY SLEEP IS INTERRUPTED BY giggling and whispering from the shadows of my room. Even without opening my eyes, I know exactly who it is and why they're here. Mom flings open my curtains. I cringe away from the stark morning light. She and Luke start singing. "Happy birthday to you."

"Ugh, if you really loved me," I place an arm over my eyes, "you'd let me sleep."

They continue. "Happy birthday to you."

"Oh God, no."

Their voices grow even louder, and I'm left wondering why they don't listen to me. After all, it is my birthday. "Happy birthday, dear Sophie. Happy birthday to you!"

"Okay. That was fantastic. Thanks, guys."

My mother chuckles, telling Luke, "Let's leave the birthday girl to get some sleep."

The loud slam of the door reverberates around my skull, shaking loose all the fragments of sleep I was hoping to gather up and piece back together. I shut my eyes, hoping to snooze for a few minutes, but that damned sunshine is taunting me. Fuck.

Angrily, I slap my hands down on my bed, folding back the top of my blanket with it. Every shift of my hands and feet is purposefully harsh, as I irritatedly get dressed. Not a great way to start a birthday. "I made a special breakfast," Mom tells me, smiling cheerily as I sail into the kitchen. One glance at my aggravated expression, and she frowns. "Oh, we're so sorry for waking you up early."

My eighteenth birthday was always going to be a special day for my mother, maybe more so than it is to me. So, I try to straighten up though my sleepiness wants to drag my shoulders down and plaster a smile on. For her. "It's okay. I'm just tired."

Swerving her hip around the corner of the counter, Mom places in front of me a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, drowned in melted white chocolate and Flake bars. My eyes widen; who knew heaven could be compressed down and served on a dish? Luke gets an identical meal, except with a dark chocolate topping. "Happy birthday, darling," Mom kisses the top of my forehead.

This is the best breakfast I've ever had. Finally. The bakery perks are finally showing up. Any annoyance about sleep-deprivation is swept away by fluffy pancakes and rich chocolate. Before I leave for school, Mom reminds me about the birthday dinner she's planned. Like I could forget.

"Dress nicely," she chastises, before leaving for work.

She took time off work to be home this late in the morning, and I feel slightly bad considering her packed workload. I really don't know how she does it, week after week. After brushing my teeth — sadly, losing the sweet aftertaste of those magnificent pancakes — and making sure that weird patch of bed hair that always sticks up on my head is firmly tied down, I can declare myself ready for school.

Luke trails behind me like a phantom on the walk to the bus stop, his shoelaces trailing behind him like the phantom of a phantom. He'll tie them up later, when he sees them, or trips over them. In the wait for the bus, I scroll down my timeline, reading and replying to the short birthday posts my classmates have left for me.

I believe the shortest one I see is from Phoenix Kent, in Book Club, and it reads simply: hb. It's the thought that counts. From my old school friends — Nova, Avalon, Graeme, and Declan — are long, fond birthday wishes, and I reply with extra emojis. I haven't spoken to them for ages, with the distance between us, but we still check in from time to time when annual reminders pop up in our social media feeds.

And then, before I can even take a breath, someone is leaning over my shoulders, putting all of their weight on me. I'm not strong. I wasn't prepared. I think my knees buckling is an expected reaction to that.