Why I Lock My Door

“Daphne Daniels!” Yelled my best friend Jamison as he pounded on my bedroom door, “let me in right this second.” I remained sitting at my computer desk and simply turned the knob on my stereo as far left as it could go, muffling his relentless knocking.

“You have to go out on Halloween, it’s the law!” He called and I shook my head in amusement at his attempt to separate me from the cave I call a bedroom.

“Don’t make me break this door down!” He wouldn’t. The thought barely crossed my mind before a loud boom brought my attention to my doorway, where Jamison stood smirking with my door laying at his feet.

“What the Hell?!” I screamed at him. “My mom’s going to kill me!” I mean literally, with knives, blood, cops, and that show Snapped.

“No she won’t,” he argued as he took my hand and pulled me out of my chair. “She told me to use any means necessary to get you out of this house… and I did.” Jamison started dragging me through my house toward the front door and I tried desperately to get out of his grip.

“J” I whined, “please don’t make me go. I don’t want to tepee peoples’ houses.”That is why I locked my door and refused to come out.

“Why not?” he asked and stopped before giving me a strange look, as if he couldn’t believe I would say something like that.

“Because I don’t feel like going to jail,” I explained. “Now can you please let me go?” He released my arm and took his bag off his shoulder before digging through it and pulling out a roll of toilet paper.

“Don’t be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.” He said with a straight face and I laughed so hard, tears started streaming down my face.

“That’s really deep.” I said through my laughter. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Under a Snapple lid, now lets go.” He shoved the roll at me and grabbed me by the hem of my shirt before pulling outside.

“Jamison, I didn’t agree to go!” I said when we started walking down my street. He just laughed as I tried to pry his hands from my shirt but failed miserably.

“Come on,” he said smiling. “Just do this one thing for me, please?” He turned and gave me the cutest little puppy-dog look that was impossible to deny.

“Fine,” I sighed, “let’s just try not to get arrested.” It didn’t mean we wouldn’t but that we would at least try to run away before law enforcement made it to the scene.

“That’s my girl,” he gave me a huge wet kiss on my left cheek and I wiped it off before he took my hand again and starting running down the road, forcing me to follow behind him as we weaved through the streets of my tiny town that should really be called a village.

“You already have a house picked out?” I asked slightly amazed when we came to a stop in front of a huge brick building.

“Of course,” he handed me a roll of toilet paper. “This is my ex-boyfriend’s house.” Yes my friends, Jamison is gay.

“Is it the one that broke up with you over a text message?” I asked as I started to actually become excited over this whole thing.

“Yep,” he said with an evil glint in his eye, “the very same.” Jamison looked left and then right as if he was checking for something and I watched him as if he was an idiot. “The road is free of Trick-or-treaters,” he said as he handed me even more rolls of paper. “It’s time to put the plan into action.” He pretended to pull a pair of goggles over his eyes and signaled for me to follow him.

“What’s the plan?” I asked while we were hiding behind a tree. “You never mentioned a plan.” He gave me a look that made me feel incredibly stupid for asking in the first place.

“Throw the rolls and run,” he said simply. “That’s always the plan, Daphne. It never changes.” Well, how was I supposed to know? Answer me that people.

“Alright, go!” He practically screamed and jumped out from behind our hiding spot before throwing the rolls of toilet paper in random directions. I stood frozen in my spot as I watched how crazy and demented my best friend looked, but managed to get over it in time to join him in his weirdness.

“Good job,” said a blond haired boy about our age as he stepped out of the house, “but very predictable Jamie. I called the cops… five minutes ago, so they should be here in-“ he was cut off by the loud screech of sirens as police cruisers parked on the curb.

“See you later,” the boy went back inside and I was instantly reminded why I hated Brandon Maybe.

“Jamison,” I said as an uniformed officer walked up and informed us that we were being arrested for vandalism. “ This is why I lock my door.”