“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Come the very irritatingly loud voices of my parents. I pull my pillow over my head hoping they won’t notice me, but it doesn’t seem to work as I feel the cover being yanked off me.
“You can’t hide in bed, it’s your eighteenth birthday! This calls for a celebration,” cheers my dad.
“Sounds good, you guys go get started and I’ll catch up,” I say as I feel around for my covers.
“Nice try, now scoot that boot out of bed or no present for you,” mum threatens. I groan and rise from the bed like a vampire from a coffin. Which is stupid to say now that I think about it, I mean, they’re not called ‘vampires’ and they don’t sleep in coffins. Humans have such an active imagination, I swear, the things they come up with.
“Come on, Sorrell, have a little enthusiasm. We’re eighte
