My sister's voice woke me up, and I, your hapless 10-year-old, pulled myself out of bed. "Wake up, you lazy brat," she said. "You promised you were going to help in preparation for Nez's birthday; what are you doing still in bed?" she yelled.
We eventually were forced to work together owing to the involvement of our parents, but after that, there was peace… kind of.
Noel kept glaring at me like I'd murdered her cat. I returned the favor by arranging the balloons upside-down—totally not on purpose. "Fix that before Mom sees it," she hissed.
I sighed, reached up, and popped one by accident. "Oops."
She slapped her forehead. "You're impossible."
Despite the chaos, it all sort of came together. Streamers up, tablecloth ironed, Nez's favorite snacks piled high on silver trays we only ever used for special guests.
By noon, the house buzzed with laughter and music. Our little cousins were racing through the halls, and Dad was setting up the old projector, ready to show embarrassing baby photos of Nez. Typical.