Socks

Chapter 1

So this is a Language Arts project that me, @ilovecatsandsharpiez and @iamauburncat worked on together, although we turned in a different version because of a page limit. This is my original version.

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"Ugh, why can't I ever find any socks?!" Charlotte groans as she digs through her purple suitcase.

"Here, borrow some of mine," Marcy says, chucking a pair of striped neon socks at her. Charlotte nearly falls backward catching them and giggles.

In case you're wondering, Charlotte and Marcy aren't my sisters, cousins or related to me in any way: they're my friends. They're crashing at my place while their parents are on vacation in the Bahamas or Hawaii or somewhere like that.

"Come on, Eleanor, wake up!" Charlotte insists, shaking my shoulder. I sigh, roll out of bed and get ready for school.

~ ~ ~

I nearly fall out of my seat as the bus hits a particularly large pothole. My lunchbox rolls into the aisle, sitting among wads of chewed-up gum and wrappers. Charlotte picks herself up off the floor, looking annoyed as she adjusts her things.

"My backpack must weigh at least fifty pounds," she grumbles. "Why do the teachers hate us so much?"

"Well, you should've taken study hall instead of art. I only have Science homework," I tell her.

"But I didn't want to!" Charlotte argues.

I'm about to reply when the bus door hisses open as it rolls to a stop in front of my house. I snatch up my lunchbox, and make my way down the aisle with Charlotte and Marcy following close behind. Thanking the tired-looking bus driver, I hop down the steps and start up the driveway.

When all three of us reach the front door, I unlock it and step inside; I expect to be licked to death, but Salt and Pepper aren't there to greet us... strange.

Then I hear footsteps punctuated by the sound of claws clicking on hardwood floors. Exchanging looks with the others, I throw my stuff aside and we scramble up the stairs.

The dogs run out of my room and barrel past us down the stairs. That's not a good sign. Slowly, I turn around to look into my bedroom.

It's in shambles. Marcy and Charlotte's suitcases are tipped over with clothes spilling out, my lamp is shattered on the floor, and the pillows and blankets are pulled off of my bed. Everything is covered in dog hair.

"This is why you guys aren't allowed in my room, you know that!" I scream at the dogs, who are sitting innocently at the bottom of the stairs.

Half-heartedly I remake my bed and help Marcy and Charlotte put their suitcases back upright. I know I can't save my poor lamp, so I sweep it up and throw it away. Then I decide to dust away all of the hair. But just as I was about to put it into the dustpan, I take a second look. It isn't Salt and Pepper's hair - they're black and white, and this hair is gray. I clarify this to Marcy and Charlotte, who are skeptical.

"But who else could have done it?" Charlotte points out. "If this hair doesn't belong to Salt and Pepper, then whose is it? You don't have any other pets."

"But Salt is pure white, and Pepper is pitch-black! This hair is gray," I say, getting frustrated.

"Maybe they're turning gray," Marcy suggests. "You know, like old people's hair does."

"But they're only four. That's not very old for a dog," I say, rolling my eyes. "Besides, I'm pretty sure dogs don't change color."

"Horses sometimes do," Charlotte says absentmindedly.

"Yes, but we're talking about dogs here, not horses!" I snap.

"I say we go think this over while eating some ice cream, or watching TV, or both!" Marcy volunteers. Charlotte nods in agreement. Finally, I surrender.

"Fine, let's go watch TV. I still think it's kind of suspicious, though."

After an hour of cartoons, dinner, three bowls of ice cream and finishing homework, we start getting ready for bed. Just as I'm about to turn the lights off and crawl under the covers, I hear Salt and Pepper barking. My mom and dad shout at them to be quiet, but they keep barking like crazy. Marcy, Charlotte and I all run down the stairs and find the dogs barking at the garage door.

"What on earth are they barking at?" my mom says, obviously very exasperated. I crack the door open and turn on the light. The dogs shove past, nearly knocking me over. They sprint over to my dad's pickup truck and sniff it like crazy, and then inspect the trash bin, and pretty much everything in the garage. Finally they walk back up the concrete steps into the laundry room and lay down, panting.

"Done?" I say, raising an eyebrow at their strange behavior. What was wrong with them lately? First they trashed my bedroom, and now they were obsessed with the garage.

My dad goes out and looks under his truck, inside the garbage bin and behind the bike rack, shaking his head.

"There's nothing out there. Nothing that they should have any reason to bark at, anyway," he announces.

"Well, I hope they don't start barking again," Charlotte puts in. "I need my beauty sleep."

Marcy and I snicker, and eventually everyone goes to bed and falls asleep - including the dogs.