Disclaimer.. The characters and the song are not mine. The characters' names and a little bit of their background info belongs to the creator of Switched at Birth, one of my favorite TV series on ABC Family. The title of my story and the plot belongs to one of my favorite bands, Paramore.

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Chapter 3:

One week passed without any communication with my dad. It was weird without him home. My mom wasn't as energetic as she normally was. She stayed in her room most of the time. As for me, outside of Kindergarten, I did my homework and colored in my room. I finished my princess coloring book, but hadn't gotten a new one yet, so I read, or at least looked at the pictures in, my book, The Royal Toad, before I got bored and started watching TV, which was rare for me. My parents never really liked the children's TV shows for my generation.

On Sunday, October 21, the day before my birthday, I was in the living room when I heard the doorbell ring. I ran to the door and peeked out through the minuscule gap in between the bottom of the brown curtains and the window sill next to the door. I saw my dad carrying a box with red wrapping paper on it and behind him was an even bigger box with the same paper. I flung open the door, ran outside and gave his leg a huge hug. "I missed you! How was your trip?"

He set the box down on the floor and picked me up, hugging me. "It was okay. Is Mom home?"

"Yes. She's upstairs in her room again."

He put me down and walked upstairs. I grabbed the small box and set it on the floor inside by the bottom of the staircase. Then I went to the larger box. However, because it was too big and oddly shaped for me to carry, I started to push it towards the house, but the wrapping paper on the bottom tore and I stopped. I didn't want to tear it more so I left it there. I left the front door open so I could keep an eye on the box and went back to the TV. I was watching "Spongebob Squarepants." It was really dumb, but I liked to look at all of the animation and drawings. I could draw every character almost perfectly.

A few minutes passed and my mom and dad came downstairs. My mom stood on the bottom step while my dad picked the small box up off the floor and set it next to me on the couch. "Wait," he said. Then he went outside and picked up the larger box. He brought it inside and set it in front of me. "Happy birthday! I know that your birthday is really tomorrow, but I want you to open these this morning so that you can have all day to do something for me rather than having to do it after school."

I looked at the boxes and back at my dad, then back to the boxes with a mile wide grin. I set the smaller box on my lap and ripped the paper off. The box had tape sealing it shut so my mom ran and grabbed scissors from the kitchen and cut it. I opened the flaps and inside was a plastic white paint pallet, an acrylic paint set with 20 colors, and a set of 10 paint brushes of all different sizes. I set the box down next to me and hopped up on the couch. I leaned over the back and hugged my dad. "Thank you so much, Daddy!"

"You're welcome. Open the next box."

I sat back down and pulled the big box closer to me. I ripped off the paper and on the outside of the box I saw a black and white – technically black and brown – picture of a painting easel. I screamed. I ran around the couch and hugged my dad again. He picked me up and wrapped his arms around me. When I looked at my mom, she was holding her right hand over her mouth, and her eyes were watering. My dad set me back down, and I ran to the easel. My mom cut the side of the box open, and I pulled out the collapsible easel. My mom and dad walked into the kitchen while I picked up the wrapping paper that was spewed across the room and threw it away. I went back to my easel and started setting up my paint set.

A few minutes later, my dad walked down the hallway. He hugged me, said, "Happy birthday, Bay," and gave me a kiss on my forehead. Then he left.

I went back to my easel, but I couldn't pick it up to take to my room, and I realized my mom hadn't come back from the kitchen yet. So I walked to the kitchen, and as I walked around to the other side of the island, I saw her. She was sitting on the ground, leaning against the cabinets, with her head lying on her knees. She was crying again. I walked over to her and held her like I remembered her doing for me when my fish, Lilo, died or when Skip was being beaten in the cemetery in the movie, My Dog Skip. That upset me every time. I knew that he lived afterwards, but it didn't matter.

After a few minutes of sitting and crying, she stood up and wiped the tears off of her cheeks.

Silently, she followed me down the hallway. I turned into the living room to play with my new paint set, and she went upstairs to her room.