My alarm clock beeped three seconds after my dad's warning shout up to my room. It was like this every day. If my alarm clock ever beat my dad in waking me up, I will eat my pants. And I'm not kidding. If I was one second late to dinner, I'd have my head ripped off. If I stepped in the door a minute after curfew, Dad would bark about how worried sick he was and rush to smother me in a hug. Psh, like I went places. All I did was sit on my ass and go on Tumblr. But what else is new? The point I'm trying to make here, before my train of thought got derailed, was that my dad is a punctuality freak. Kurt Anderson, my dad, would flip a shit if I didn't turn my computer off at 9:30. My other dad, Blaine-yes they're gay- is the more lenient one. He doesn't care if I'm a few minutes late after curfew, or if I don't drop everything just to come to dinner. To put it simply, he's the cool dad. I groaned in the direction of the door, fumbled to shut off the incessant beeping of my clock and accidently knocked it on the floor, which means I would have to get up. Sighing, I shoved myself off the bed and groped the carpet for the power cord. If dad number one, Kurt, was here, he'd probably lecture me about how you never pull cords. To make it easier on you, I'm just gonna call them Kurt and Blaine, because referring to them both as 'Dad' would probably add to the confusion that is my life. I reached up for my comforter and pulled the rainbow blanket down on myself, curling up on the soft black carpeting. I smiled softly and tucked the comforter under my chin, using my arm as a pillow. White light (tee-hee, rhymie) flooded the room and I squinted, shielding my eyes from the brightness.
Blaine was leaning in the doorway, with his arms crossed and a light smirk on his face. "Come on, Lace, up. Or you're gonna be late for your first day." I vaguely made a distinct shooing motion in his direction. I heard him chuckle and felt his footsteps shake the floor gently as he crossed to where I was still lying on the floor. "If you're not in the shower within the next three minutes, I'll have Dad get you up the same way Uncle Finn does." He knew that would get me going. Kurt may look like this frail little thing but sweet holy Jesus, he is strong! Like, push-a-car-uphill-in-a-wind-tunnel strong. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but he is decently strong. So, in turn, I yelped, pushed Blaine out the door and stripped out of my pajamas, a tank top and boy shorts, for those warm Ohio nights.
I pulled on my terrycloth bathrobe and streaked for the bathroom, barely glancing at my reflection. I knew what I looked like. I had mirrors and then I had the woman who gave birth to me at school, my aunt Quinn. My dads had a similar story to Rachel's, one of Kurt's best friends through high school and Uncle Finn's ex. They mixed their, ugh, sperm in a Petri dish and injected Aunt Quinn with the sperm. We don't know who my birth-dad is, but I have my suspicions that it's Kurt because even though I have Aunt Quinn's, it'd feel weird to call her mom, hazel eyes but my Kurt's eye shape. I have his pale porcelain skin and his hair color, that chestnut shade. Auntie Quinn taught History at William McKinley and she's the cheerleading coach. The Cheerios, as they're called, which is a really stupid name if you ask me, but don't tell Aunt Quinn I said that, she'd kill me. She was a Cheerio when she was in high school, if you don't count the time she was kicked off for some reason no one in my family will tell me in her sophomore year and the time she quit in her junior year. Turning on the hot water, I jumped in the shower and began my daily routine, shampoo, condition, body wash, shave, rinse out the conditioner and do a quick Pantene commercial hair flip. I turned off the water and blew my hair dry, pulled it half up and added my mass amounts of make-up, mascara. Woo!
I went back to my room and shrugged into the outfit Kurt and I picked out last night: A 'Keep Calm and Carry On' tee-shirt from the United Kingdom pavilion at Epcot, skinny jeans from Spencer's-Blaine and Kurt nearly croaked when we stepped foot in the store- and a pair of black Converse high tops that lace up to your knees. I pulled on my Jack Skellington gloves that go to my forearms and a locket with the picture of my would-be older brother Leonardo. They tried to have a baby through Aunt Quinn before me but something went wrong and Leonardo died. Inside the locket is a picture of his ultrasound. I gripped the locket tightly before I put on one of my Grandma Carole's rings. After a quick peek in the mirror, I smiled, flashing pearly white teeth.
I clomped my way downstairs to a symphony of delicious smells. Kurt was baking! Fuck yes! Blaine pinned a glare at me. Oops. "Did I say that out loud?" I blushed.
"Yes." Kurt was audible over the hissing of pancakes as he turned them over.
My porcelain skin colored over more and I turned to glare at Blaine. "You lied! You said he would wake me up the same way Uncle Finn does!"
Blaine gave his most innocent smirk, and believe me, he does it well. "Yes, and?"
"Nothing can interrupt Dad when he's baking!"
"Did I forget that little factor? My bad." Blaine grinned at me. I stuck my tongue out at him and rolled my eyes, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge.
"Pill first." Kurt demanded, not even looking up. I sighed and headed over to the kitchen sink, where we kept the pills. I shook a birth control pill out of the container and into my palm, then popped it in my mouth, dry swallowing.
"Why do I have to take these?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Safe sex is great sex." Kurt winked at me before sliding a pancake on to a plate and handing it to me. He kissed my forehead as I passed. I sat down after grabbing a fork and knife from the drawer Blaine kept them.
"Gar, dammit!" I muttered, realizing I forgot my orange juice. I put on my puppy-dog face, the low grade one because that normally works on Blaine, and blinked sweetly up at him. "Daddy…"
Blaine chuckled and poured me a glass of orange juice, putting it down in front of me and returned to his newspaper."Buckeyes are up this season." He announced idly.
Kurt smiled up at Blaine. "Remember hon, you love football. I love scarves."
I rolled my eyes again and drizzled on the syrup on my pancakes, devouring them moments after. Kurt was an ahmazing cook and baker. He was a fashionista, too. Kurt was the stay at home-dad, so he was always baking up a storm. Plus he was a wedding planner and they always turned out to be the most beautiful ceremonies ever and the receptions were awesome. Good music, Kurt wouldn't tolerate anything less, great food, and incredible wine! But that's a secret. As far as my dads know, I've never even touched alcohol, got it? Blaine is the working parent. He is the principal plus he and Auntie Quinn co-direct the Glee club at William McKinley. Aunt Quinn was in the Glee club when she went there and so was Kurt before he transferred to Dalton where he met Blaine and they feel in love. It's really quite romantic if you ask me. Just for warning, when I talk to them, Kurt is Daddy and Blaine is Dad.
"Dad?" Blaine looked up from his newspaper. "Where are we meeting Noah and Kylie?" I shoveled the last forkful of pancakes into my mouth and chewed while I waited for his response.
"Probably the choir room. Why?"
"Curiosity." I shrugged, washed my plate and ran upstairs to brush my teeth. I pulled on a jacket, stuffed my iPod and cell in my pockets and smirked at my reflection. Hell yes. I was going to take this high school by storm, whether it wanted it or not.