"Happy Birthday Bridget." Dad whispers into my ear.

I am pulled out of my sleep at the sound of my Dad's deep and monotone voice. I am fairly certain it is midnight or slightly later. I grunt and flip myself over to find my parents hovering above me. I jump in surprise and lean up against my headrest.

"What are you guys doing?" I mumble groggily as I rub my eyes. "I just fell asleep like twenty minutes ago."

I can barely make out my parents glancing at each other. Before they can tell me what it is, I am already aware of the issue. Of course, my parents have to go to work and figured they wouldn't be home until later depending on how everything goes.

"We have to head into work, but we both wanted to wish you a happy birthday. To think you are 17. . . you are so old! Stop growing!" Mom jokes as she shakes me a bit.

"Em, we need to get going. We will see you later . . . Jack is here." Dad adds as he strolls casually out of my bedroom.

Mom kisses my forehead and follows after him, her heels clacking with each step she takes. I lay silent on my bed and reminisce my past few birthdays. Surprisingly, my parents have been around for almost every birthday except for this one and a couple others. Of course I have not and never will count on them to be here for my birthday even if they wanted to.

I fall back asleep with the thought of growing old in my head.

"Hey! Happy birthday, Bridget!" Jack exclaims with a large smile.

I smile and thank him. "Last time you were here you went all berserk on Dad. Now you're here?" I point out.

"Well, I have been here for your birthday since the day you were born. I feel like it is only right to be here when you wake up. Plus, they do have a case so. . ."

I laugh to myself and shake my head. I just turned 17 and my dad still can't let me stay home alone. The idea that it was mostly Jack's plan to come over is definitely comforting.

"Anyway, I made you blueberry pancakes and eggs." He comments, motioning towards the stack of pancakes and the eggs inside of a pan.

My face lightens up, "Jack!" I gape. "Thank you!"

I race to find a plate from the cupboard and pile the food on my plate. Jack slides the maple syrup across the counter and I douse my breakfast in it. I sit down and scarf down the meal like a  hungry wolf.

"My God, girl." Jack laughs. " I don't think I have actually seen you chow down an entire meal like that since we were kids. I swear every dinner ends with some sort of silly argument between Emily or Dad."

"Or maybe it is just because the food they make tastes like crap? Especially Mom. I can't eat anything she makes besides boxed macaroni. I'd do anything to have some of Rossi's carbonara." I sigh as I imagine myself shoving his pasta in my face.

"Oh come on, his dishes are overrated." Jack retorts as he flips a pancake.

"Says you. You practically lived off of Rossi's dinners." I answer with a hint of sass.

"They were sympathy meals, Bri." He adds softly, ignoring my stare.

"For like ten years?" I reply with a fiery attitude.

"Okay, just stop. Let's move on from this conversation, okay? Don't tell anyone about that. It's stupid." Jack shouts; his voice is almost identical to Dad's that it takes a moment to realize it actually is not Dad.

"Fine." I shrug, pushing my chair away from the table. I stand up and leave my plate alone on the table with delicious syrup still caked on it.

I march to my room and shut my door. All I want to do is sit down and write. The thought of writing causes a rush of serotonin to surge through my body. I pull out my notebook and scramble through my dresser to find a pencil. I sit down at my desk and begin to scribble down an idea for another book.

Ever since I was young, I constantly wrote stories. Some of them were fairly decent while others made practically no sense at all. A common theme in my stories were fantasy. I wrote about being an elf like the one from the Elf on the Shelf and the easter bunny. It was all sporadic, but what mattered most was that I could write it with absolute ease. Writing is something that changed my life, yet no one knows about my passion for it.

"Bri, do you have anything specific you want to do today?" Jack asks, leaning against the doorframe casually.

I slam my notebook shut and cover the pencil with my hand. Odds are he saw and did not care or did not see it all.

"Um . . ." I begin. "I think that I would like to just stay at home, if that's okay."

Jack looks surprised since I have always been one to go out to eat and do fun things. He is clearly confused, but lets me off the hook.

"Alright." He obliges as he leaves the room.

Moments later, the doorbell rings. There is no movement in the house so I shout at Jack to get the door. I hear him walk around for a moment and then is footsteps approach my door. I groan to myself in realization that anyone could be at the door.

"Don't kill me, but some people are here for you." He states with no clear expression.

I let out a heavy sigh and crack my neck in preparation for whatever I was going to have to do. I give me a cruel stare and slowly make my way to the door. I grab the handle and whip the door open. To my complete surprise, Mom and Dad and standing there with a cake and presents. I am in complete shock as the two of them stand in front of me.

"Guys!" I scream as I through myself into them. "This is such a surprise!"

"We were able to get off of work early today. Pretty slow at Quantico. The team's got everything under control. Everyone wishes you a happy birthday! I have a present from Garcia and Rossi and cards from JJ, Reid, and Luke."

Mom tosses everything into my arms while Dad pulls out a cheap birthday hat and places it on my head.

"So can it be present time?" I ask with a sheepish smile once they walk inside.

Mom and Dad look at each other with pure desire in their eyes. I don't know why they are acting all weird and romantic, but then again it is my birthday. If that makes sense.

"You're 17! You have a lot more authority, do whatever the hell you want." Jack buts in.

"To hell with it!" I exclaim in a joking manner.

Dad turns to face me and glares at me. He gives me the you-better-watch-it look and I apologize for swearing so carelessly.

I sit down at my spot and practically demand everyone to come watch. Once everyone is seated, I begin to open my first present.

"That one is from Garcia." Dad indicates even though the pink sparkly wrapping paper gave it away.

I unwrap it to discover a package of fun pens. I read the note inside and smile to myself.

Here's a little something for a sparkly girl like you! I can't believe you are 17! Quit sprouting like a beanstalk! You are beautiful and intelligent and driven and creative, and SO much more!!! Keep following your dreams, princess!

~Penelope :)

Miss Penelope is the only person in the world who knows about my true aspirations. My family and friends have no idea what I want go into.

"Well, what is it?" Mom presses.

I rotate the pens between my fingers for a moment and then flip them towards my family.

Dad scoffs. "Definitely something Garcia would give."

I swallow. Clearly Dad thinks the gift was stupid. On the other hand, Mom does not really have a reaction.

"Okay." I clap my hands in interjection. "Next one!"

I grab for Rossi's present which seems to weigh a lot more than I anticipate. I smile at my parents who remain expressionless. He wrote a small note wishing me a happy birthday and how I am getting so old and blah, blah, blah. I open the gift to see a large container filled with his famous carbonara. I practically leap out of my chair in excitement.

"You are obligated to share that, young lady." Mom informs, attempting to stifle a laugh.

Mom is also quite obsessed with Rossi's present, but I am well aware that she is simply messing with me. Although the gift is obviously for me, I feel the need to share with her. After all she was the bearer of this specific gift.

"We'll see about that." I respond.

Next, I read JJ, Luke, and Spencer's card. Each of their cards are sentimental and heart felt. Alongside the note, they all gave me a generous gift of money. 

"Well, you are seventeen now, Bridget. You know what that means." Dad concludes with a sigh.

I exchange glances between my brother and parents. "Uh, no, I actually don't."

"College?" He answers, clearly surprised that I am oblivious.

"Oh." I answer.

I am frightened that this may be the big reveal. I do not want to tell them what I want to go into. Now is definitely not the time to do that. I am not about to ruin the party vibe.

"Your mother and I were discussing your possible future endeavors and we are strongly recommending that you go into criminal justice."

My mouth is ajar within seconds. They were going to through this card at me on my birthday? No way in hell.

"No." I blurt. "Nope. No. Nada. No way."

"Okay, what is with that response? Why don't you give it a little more thought instead of jumping to a ridiculous conclusion." Mom argues, leaning back in her chair.

"I don't have any interest in criminal justice. I don't want to go into a crime-based field, and I would prefer if you didn't force that on me either." I scowl, crossing my arms.

"What else do you have in mind then? You need to start applying within the first couple months of school." Dad retaliates.

Here we are. The moment I have been dreading for years. Am I really about to tell them I want to be an author? Jack is definitely going to hardcore judge me and most likely joke about it until the day they drop me in a grave.

"I'll be right back." Jack excuses randomly as he stands up at hustles toward the direction of our bedrooms.

"I-um-" I cannot find the right words to say and their eyes seem to be burning holes into my skull. "I'm not really sure. You see, I have been trying to pick between many different careers."

All of a sudden, Jack bolts into the kitchen with my precious notebook in his arms. My eyeballs practically fall out of their sockets and I scramble to grab it from him.

"Jack!" I scold lightly, attempting to grab the notebook.

"This is what she has been working on." He finalizes as he pushes the notebook in front my parents.

I force a smile and then quickly hide between my arms, hoping I will not witness my parents reading my story. Before I can make that simple wish, Mom reads the title aloud. I cringe and grit my teeth.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dad questions, holding my notebook in the air.

"I like to write. Okay? I am a writer- an author. Whatever you want to call it. That's what I like to do." I spit. "Now I would appreciate if you handed that valuable item back to me, thank you very much."

Dad rolls his eyes and slides it across the table. Mom appears to be upset and most likely wants to continue to read. Dad looks straight up agitated.

"Dad, I am sorry." I emphasize. "I did not think that me doing something I love would be so terrible to you."

He is silent as he process this newfound information. After all, it is quite a sudden surprise that I have been writing a story about my own damn life.

"It is not that, Bridget. It's the fact that you managed to hide this from us." He explains, putting Mom's hand in his.

I turn to Jack and glare at him. He smirks at me and I sneer instantly. Mom shoots me a warning glance and I straighten up.

"I still think you should consider going into a criminology-based field, Bridget. You've got it in you, I know it." Dad counters, looking at Mom.

"I agree. You could always consider writing on the side to bring in some extra cash." Mom suggests thoughtfully.

"Can we resume opening presents? I would rather not discuss my future on the anniversary of my birth. How about that cake though too? I suggest we dig into that thing soon."

Mom and Dad can't help but laugh at my spunky attitude. Dad squeezes Mom's hand gently and releases it in order to go grab the cake. Jack pulls out the candles and places them on the cake. Mom choses to carry the cake over to me while everyone sings in a very uncoordinated way. I smile and brace myself to make a wish.

I blow out the candles successfully, wishing to live a life that I create for myself.