My Living Nightmare

I got up off my bed and stretched. Then I walked over to me desk and plugged my stereo in. The computer and printer lay next to it uselessly. I may have been able to use the thing, but putting all the cables in the right places was another thing. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie…”

I played That’s Amore, by… Okay, I didn’t know who sang it, but the song was catchy.

“Bells will ring…” I sang along as I walked over to the bathroom to freshen up.

I walked out of the bathroom to hear someone knocking rapidly on my bedroom door. I opened it only to be sprung on. I was literally sprung on.

Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either.

“Um, hi?” I asked more than said, while trying not to topple over. The person got off me, perky and playful.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just so excited to finally meet you! I’m Tory,” said a girl a year or two younger than me. She was very pretty with big brown doe eyes and high defined cheekbones. She had long, curling eye lashes and shoulder length raven black hair. Pretty didn’t even do her justice.

“Sean’s sister, right?” I said, reaching out to shake her outstretched hand.

“Yes. I’m so glad you’re not like those plastic Barbie’s that flock around Sean like he’s freaking Elvis,” she said frankly. I had to laugh at her straightforwardness.

“And how do you know that I’m not a ‘plastic Barbie’?” I asked curiously, making air quotes with my hands.

“Well, for one, you didn’t shriek like a banshee when I jumped on you.”

“True.”

I looked at what she was wearing and it made me smile. She and Sapphire would be great friends.
She was wearing a light pink sleeveless sundress and a pair of, wait for it, knee high converse. Her shoulder length hair hung neatly in tresses around her face.

She followed my gaze and grinned cheekily.

“I had to go to a boring party that was being held for my stuck-up snob of a cousin. The invite’s dress code said smart, so…”

“You are so talking my language right now,” I said.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’m fluent. Now, do you want the tour of the house now?”

“Yeah, let me just put off the stereo.”

I switched off the stereo, closed my door and followed Tory out into the hallway.

“So this is the top floor. It has the music room and home gym. I hope you don’t expect me to give you the history of the house because, to be honest, I don’t give a crap about when it was built or who were the first residents.”

Again I had to laugh at how straightforward she was.

We had just walked up the stairs to the fourth floor.

“The music room isn’t really my kind of room; I don’t play any instruments, and I can’t sing to save my life. Still, why should anyone come all the way to the music room when they could just sing in the shower?” she continued, opening a simple-looking brown door.

The room was astonishing, and no, thank God, the room didn’t look like a recording studio.
The room was just plain white, with a small desk in one corner of the room. On the other side sat a silver electric keyboard on its stand and two beautiful guitars. In the middle of the room there was a slightly raised platform where a set of drums were assembled. The room was big, about the size of my room and Sean’s put together, excluding the bathroom.

“This is room belongs to Jamie and Sean more than it belongs to me. They convinced my parents not to overdo it, if you know what I mean, though they still allowed them to have the room sound-proofed. Speaking of Jamie, he’ll only be home by dinner time; he got stranded by the party.”

“This room is… Wow,” I finally said. It may have been simple, but it was pleasant.

“Do you play any instruments?” she asked as she led me out of the room and into the hallway.

“Not at all,” I said distastefully.

She gave me an odd look.

“Don’t ask,” I said as she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. How did people do that? I’ve tried about a million times, but I just couldn’t seem to get it right.

We walked for a few minutes before stopping in front of two wide, glass double doors that opened up to a huge gym room that looked very much like mine back home. Or the gym back at my old home. Whatever.

“I’ll be spending a lot of time here,” I muttered.

“We have a personal karate instructor that comes around every Wednesday. Dad says it’s important to be able to defend yourself properly. I said having a gun would be more reliable, but apparently I’d probably have half the neighborhood rushing to ICU.”

“What belt are you?” I asked, interested.

“Junior black. Jamie and Sean are black belts. Somehow they managed to double grade a few times.” She said, clearly not believing they were capable of double grading.

Interesting…

“Well, I double graded a few times myself,” I heard myself saying.

You don’t like Sean, yet you’re defending him.

I am not defending him; I’m defending them.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

“You do karate, too? Yay, I’ve got a new sparring partner! What belt are you?” she asked, jumping up and down.

Scary…

“Black belt, third degree. You mean I can take the classes with you guys?” I asked, excited. Like I said before, I haven’t been to class in a long time.

“Of course you can. Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

Yes, it most certainly will be.

“And this is the kitchen. And the last room in the house, finally.”

It was unreal, the amount of rooms in this house.

She walked over to the refrigerator and took out a tub of chocolate ice-cream.

“Put that tub back in the fridge, Tory,” Christine said, walking in through the kitchen door.

“But mom-”

“No buts, dinner’s in an hour.”

“I want ice-cream!” she cried indignantly. Christine just laughed and wondered up the stairs.
“Seriously, I want ice-cream. She won’t be down for a while…” she smiled mischievously.

We sat around the island eating the ice-cream out of the tub with two ice-cream scoopers. Yep, you heard right, two ice-cream scoopers.

“God, Samantha is such a spoiled brat,” the kitchen door banged open and a tall guy barged in, falling against it and sliding down the door.

I swear Tory must have jumped a mile in the air before toppling over and falling flat on her behind. What can I say; she must’ve had a very guilty conscience.

The guy leaning against the door took one look at her and burst out laughing.

“Tory, Tory, Tory, eating ice-cream before dinner again, are we?”

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘why don’t you just kiss my as-?’ before stopping abruptly and standing up, dusting off non-existent specks of dirt.

“And who might you be? A friend of Tory’s?” mystery guy asked me, looking curious.

“My mom said not talk to strangers,” I said smartly, licking ice-cream off my top lip.

It was Tory’s chance to laugh.

“Fine, you win. James Michael Rivera at your service, and you are?”

“Wow, you give in easily; I’ll have to take advantage of that, sometime. Alexandria Saunders.”

I watched comprehension dawn on his face.

“Oh…”