Don't Text Back

Chapter 2

"Yes," I said. "You're Ameira?"

"Yes," she gave me a wide smile and stretched out her hand for a handshake. She had unique red-orange henna designs that started from her fingertips and stopped at her wrist. "My car is parked right over there," she said, pointing to a black Chevrolet parked behind a taxi.

Ameria was shorter than me by one foot. Her skin showed the aggressive brown of someone who visited a tanning booth weekly. Her eye color was strictly unique, like silver lightning. However, with the sharp black eyeliner outlining her lids, it made her look vicious, but in a good way. Strings of soft black hair revealed itself on the side of her face, ending just an inch under her shoulder behind the see-through scarf.

"I'll put your suitcase in the trunk," she gave me a warm smile and took the suitcase from me. I was indeed wrong to assume she was Arab because she sounded nothing like one. Her accent was perfect and didn't mix with anything. Not that I had noticed.

She closed the trunk then got inside of the car where I followed inside. The inside was burning hot, and she quickly pulled down the window before driving off. "Do you need to go shopping before we go to the house?"

"You live in a house?" I asked. "I thought it was an apartment."

She shook her head slowly. "No, a house was written in the description of the app. I can show you if you'd like."

I shook my head. "No, that's okay. I probably forgot."

"Yeah," she started pulling out of her parking spot. "It's been five months since we talked about this. I was surprised that you texted me a week ago saying you were ready to make a move. I have to say, I didn't think you'd do it after telling me about your folks. How did that go?"

Instead of going into every detail, I shrugged my arms. "It was okay, I guess. I'm here."

She chuckled and gave me a slight nudge. "You did it, and I know it was hard. Hey, my parents are Muslim and moving out wasn't easy. Especially to New York City. However, I had my reasons too. My parents had problems with each other, and when that happened, my life came to a pause. My career, my money, my hobbies, all of their problems interfered with me becoming someone. So here I am. It's not the easiest thing to do. You just have to be strong and confident."

"You're right," I agreed. "I love my parents dearly, but I'm afraid that they'll never let me back into their lives."

"They'll get over it," she slowed down and waited for a group of teenagers to pass by. She waved at a little boy spinning a ball on his finger who was obviously trying to impress us. "You need this. You need to live your own life, experience new things, and find out what you want to do in this world. It's going to be alright."

Her kind words made me feel less nervous. As we drove, Ameira was telling me about our roommates, Amanda, Rebecca, and Dakota. Apparently, Amanda and Rebecca were friends since the third grade, and both of them loved each other deeply. However, Rebecca had a bipolar disorder and felt like Amanda was the only one who understood her. Ameira warned me to be gentle and a little patient with her, for Rebecca wasn't a people person at all. Dakota was normal but was slowly going blind in her only good eye. She had Stargardt disease and had a few more years to see. As for Ameira, she was born in Canada but raised in New York her whole life. I wanted to know more about her and how long she had she been Muslim.

I was about to ask her about it when she pulled into this area with lots of trees and grass. The tall buildings and loud parts of the city were slowly dimming down into a more quiet neighborhood. The houses weren't big, and they weren't in the best shape, but they looked decent. "We live right up there. That big house on the left."

Before I looked to the left, I had looked to the right. Somewhat standing, was an old house that looked like it should have been knocked over years ago. This house was one house away from Ameira's, and it was strikingly sinister. The broken windows with curtains that swayed whenever the wind blew sent shivers down my spine, for I feared seeing someone or something. The broken door hung dearly to its hinges, only to fall one day soon. Anyone could've easily broken inside, but it seemed so untouched. There was no trespassing sign. No keep out sign.

"That place looks creepy," I looked at Ameira. "Do you think people live in that?"

Ameira didn't react to what I had said. She pulled into the garage that opened, revealing three girls holding a sign that read: Surprise! Welcome Home, Alex!

I smiled. No one has ever done anything like this. I ignored the fact that Ameira had ignored my question about the old house and focused more on my new roommates. So far, everything was going as planned.

A/n: This is what I'm thinking the characters look like

Dakota

Ameira

Rebecca

Amanda