Before you read this, bare in mind that this story doesn't have the most exciting take off. I am working on that, and help would be highly appreciated. Enjoy!
I sit at my desk encouraging myself to complete the last three problems in my Saxon
Algebra 2 book, when voices from the living room distract me. As I ponder whether or
not to leave my last three problems for tomorrow, the clock hand strikes three and I push
away from my desk anxious to stop studying. However, I know Mom will make me do
them later.
I walk down the white carpeted hall, where my sister's new paintings are on display. One is of Princess Jasmin, the other is of a little girl in mid-air, jumping to snap a wooden board in half. My lips pull up into a soft smile as I realize just how talented she is. Only thirteen-years-old, but she has a black belt in Taekwondo and is becoming the next Michelangelo. I am four years older than my sister, Cara, yet she seems to have not only dozens of more trophies than me, but also the hearts of anyone she meets within a matter of minutes. With her beautiful golden curls, and her bright blue eyes, she is the envy of every girl who sets their eyes on her. Although, I know we aren't anything alike, I know I she watches my every move. As Dad said before Cara was born, "Being an older sibling is a great joy, but also a great responsibility."
I stop right before I reach the living room, wondering who our guest is so I can
determine whether my stay-at-home look is appropriate. The stranger has a deep, smooth
voice. Obviously a man. I decide not to risk embarrassing myself, and stand there until I
hear Mom offer him a drink. I groan, slightly louder than I should have, knowing that I'll just have to endure meeting someone new in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Thankfully, he
declines, and a few moments later, the front door is shut allowing me to have full access
to my house once again.
“Who was that?” I ask Mom, startling her.
“Gosh, Catie. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” She replies, blowing her golden bangs out
of her brown eyes.
I nod, walk into the kitchen, then plop onto the counter.
“That was our new neighbor, actually. His name is Daylen.” She starts pulling meat out of
the fridge, and I know her well enough to know that she’s thinking. A: She doesn’t know
what to cook. B: She doesn’t want to cook.
“Oh.” Immediately, my nosy side kicks in, and I can’t help but wonder what this family is
about.
“What do you want for dinner?” She asks, lifting her glass of water to her chapped lips.
“I don’t care.” She moans, and I hop down from the counter, already decided that I’m
going to check out our new neighbors.
After changing into something appropriate for public, I walk outside immediately
shivering from the cold November wind. My blond hair flies in my face, tempting me to
take my hands out of my pockets. Humph. The wind blown look is in style. I quickly walk
down our porch steps, watching the new neighbors carry furniture into their three story
yellow house.
