A Threat to Perfection

Intro - Intruder Alert

I made this story for a special friend of mine, a classmate. Anyway, this is my first time writing a story using the present tense. I wanted to challenge myself, so here goes! Oh, and check out the post I made about A Threat To Perfection. You can check it out through the external link. :)

This book's blurb is inspired by Don't Catch Me!'s blurb, which is written by CompulsiveWriter.

Oh, by the way, I've posted the book trailer. Watch it~!

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Intro

          Intruder Alert

          "Riri, get this weird thing out of my room!"

          It's amazing how her brother has coped with her terribly weird habit of keeping things in random places. Nobody understands why she keeps her wallet inside the refrigerator, why her notebooks stay beside the microwave, why she always places the door keys on top of the radio, and why she always forgets where her green, squishy stuffed toy is.

          Weird thing? she wonders.

          "Hey!" She jumps off her seat and runs like wild across the hallway, making her way through the giant piles of clothes, desks with half-filled water glasses on top, and the frequently used refrigerator. "Malcolm Ascher," she yells, pointing her finger at his brother, "get your filthy claws off my Squishy!" And yes, the green, squishy stuffed toy has a name.

          The blond boy then grabs Squishy with silver tongs and throws it over his sister. "Never in my life will I touch that disgusting thing, Riri."

          "Miles!" she screams as she tries to catch it with her fingers, but, unfortunately, she's too small to reach Squishy while in mid-air. So Squishy falls behind her, head first. "Aaaaaah! Squishy!" she screams again, making her brother cover his ears. She scoops it up and turns back to her brother. "Well, this...means war."

          Miles flings the pair of tongs to the unused study table he's got and chuckles, "Seriously, Riri? You still have the guts to declare war between us after what happened last week?"

          Last week may have been the most horrible week for her if Miles wasn't her brother. Unfortunately for her, he was her brother, her older brother, so that week was just normal. Last week, she was at the convenience store, craving for some slushies, when Miles and his friends entered the store and yelled, "Stop! This is the police!" and started shooting her face with cold water. The next thing she felt was cold liquid seeping through her blue pants and brown sweater. Her hair was the next thing that got terribly wet. And to top that off, Theodore Rendall, popularly known as Theo, the coolest and most popular boy in town, was also inside the store to witness one of her most embarrassing moments in public. And she had a big crush on him.

          After getting her sister soaking wet all over, they ran out of the store and left her to deal with everyone's eyes on her own. That was the worst part. Fed up with Miles' pranks, she came up with a plan, a 'brilliant' plan. A prank of her own.

          So the next day, she went straight to the school gymnasium. She knew Miles was busy playing baseball that time, so she wasn't in danger of getting caught by Miles along the way. In the name of revenge, she played an audio file of one of Miles' bathroom concerts and used the microphones in the control room so the whole school could hear it. Two minutes was all it took for Miles to barge in and throw a bucket of red paint on her and, once again, leave her to deal with everyone's eyes and laughs on her own.

          "I don't care, you nuthead!" she yells. "You just got lucky last time. But this time, I'll make you go down on your knees and beg me to stop, but I won't!"

          Knock! Knock!

          The door creaks as a man in a black polo shirt opens the door, wearing no reading glasses or anything that screams 'Mature!' aside from the strict posture he's got. He barely looks forty, but he's actually forty-three already.

          With a wide grin plastered on Miles' face, he grabs a bag of potato chips before standing up and leaning against the door to greet his father. His sister turns her head to the opened door, her eyes landing on their smiling father and a strangely smirking teenage boy.

          "I'm in a good mood, Miles," Mr. Ascher says, "but I'm going to tell you this once more. Stop bullying your sister."

          "But, Dad," he whines, then he points his finger to his sister and yells, "she started it!"

          "I did not!" she yells back, too fast for her own good.

          "I don't care who started it," Mr. Ascher says. "Miles, don't you dare pull pranks on your sister again." Then he turns to his daughter and says, "Maori, I don't want to hear you declaring a war with Miles again. I heard everything you said." Miles sticks his tongue at out Maori, but he gets a glare from his father in return. "I also heard what you said, Miles."

          For a reason none of them knew, the stranger chuckles, and he successfully gets Maori and Miles' attention. He just smirks as he watches them look him up and down. Dark earphones hang around his neck. His spiky, auburn hair compliments his pale skin and small eyes. A navy blue shirt hugs his figure, making Maori blush as she sees his abs that are still visible even under his shirt.

          Miles furrows his eyebrows. "Who are you?" When he gets no answer, he puts the bag of chips on his rarely used study table, throws his hands in the air, waving them up and down, and screams, "Intruder alert! Intruder alert!"

          Everyone gives him the what-are-you-doing look, so he slowly stops waving his hands in the air and shuts his mouth.

          "What?" he asks, feeding himself with a couple of potato chips again. To keep them from staring at him like he's murdered a four year-old kid with his baseball bat, he changes the topic. He looks at the strange guy beside their father and says, "You like Riri, don't you?" His eyebrows go up and down as he teases the stranger into admitting something he's not really certain of.

          Maori's jaw drops to the ground. "Miles," she yells, "seriously, you have a huge brain problem." Her hands draw a big circle to give emphasis to the word huge. "If you have a brain, that is."

          "I'm just aski—"

          Mr. Ascher cuts him off. "I assume you forgot what I told you before," he says sternly. "Both of you are not allowed to have a romantic relationship with anyone in the band. You're—"

          "—brothers and sisters here," Miles supplies, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I know." He chuckles and shoves a handful of chips into his mouth again. "Dad, I was just kidding."

          "You better be," his father replies. "Anyway, this is Kiro. He's going to take care of the vocals. That means the band fest isn't a problem anymore." Then he turns to Maori. "Maori, get your stuff out of the guest room. You can—"

          Her eyes widens in surprise, then it's followed by a gasp, a horribly loud gasp. Everyone's looking at her right now, like she's worse than her brother when it comes to acting like a normal person, staring at her like her eyes are falling out of her eye sockets because her eyes have widened too much. "What?!" she gasps, her hands flying to her head. "He can't be the new vocalist you were talking about!"

          She receives no reply.

          "Dad," she says, "you can't be serious." When his father still doesn't reply, she throws her hands in the air. "Ugh, this is unbelievable!"