My Foreign Roommate: Extraterrestrial Book One

Problematic

It's been about three weeks since the big change. I was thrilled that my family supported my choice to move in with Whitney and I could be my own person. For a while, life was good. We made friends with the neighbors, who were all super cool and nice. We upgraded our furniture thanks to my parents. Heck, we even got invited to a pool party by our downstairs neighbors, Zach and Steve.

Hmm, should I wear this dress, or this outfit? I pondered, stuck between a cyan dress and a green shirt with a brown skirt. And what to do with my hair...ponytail? Nah.
"Hurry up with the bathroom, will ya!" Whitney banged on the door.
"Hold on! Geez." I huffed, going with the shirt and skirt. I swiftly applied some eyeshadow and lip gloss, the only makeup I didn't mind, before Whitney yanked me out the room.

When she came out at least seven minutes later, she looked like a she clown.
"Do you really need that much makeup?"
"Do you really need to not? Let's go!" Again she dragged me down the stairwell and all the way outside to the back yard. As we neared the party, the music became louder, lights became brighter, and the smell of barbecue and other things became stronger. I reclaimed my arm when Whitney let go and I decided to eat first.

While I chowed down on a hotdog smothered in barbecue sauce, I could see Whitney mingling with a group of guys, most of which in swim suits. I wanted to join her but I was too shy to even think about speaking to anyone. So there I sat, comfortable in the white beach chair set up, with a plate full of goodies.

About an hour passed before I started getting tired and my head hurt from the loud music. I was beginning to doze off in the chair.
"Hey!" Whitney slapped my face playfully a few times. "Wake up, we're leaving."
"Huh? Oh okay." I groggily stood up and wobbled behind her, unaware of the two guys following her as well. As I stumbled inside, I became aware of the two. I collapsed on the couch by habit, as I've done numerous times before. I was out like a burned out lightbulb.

I was rudely awoken by ruckus I never thought humanly possible. Somehow, bottles, cans, cartons, bags, and any other type of container of food and drink were covering the floor. Even the floor around me! I sprung up and to Whitney's room, then knocked three times on the wooden door.
"Hold on, Sabrina! Geez!" She yelled back. I waited four minutes until hearing talking and even laughter. What was she doing? I knocked again, louder. "I said wait! Are you stupid?" I aggressively jiggled the handle. "Do you not know what 'wait' means?" It took a few more moments until she finally opened the door, brushing her hair. Peeking beyond her showed the two guys leaning against the back wall. "What do you want?" She interrogated with bitterness in her voice.
"What was going on? What's with the noise?"
"None of your business. Go back to sleep."
"Are you drunk!?" I asked after catching a whiff of her breath.
"Why's it matter to you?"
"God! You made such a mess in here, there, and everywhere!"
"Then clean it."
"Are you serious? This doesn't bother you?"
"It's not that bad. You're just being dramatic." I wanted to snap at her, but I knew never to argue with drunk people. I sighed heavily before stomping off and grabbing a trash bag. I started by the couch, piling all the garbage in the bag. I managed to clear out the entire living room and kitchen. I felt proud of myself.

That's when Whitney led her friends out the room and to the front door. I could smell the odor from the opened bedroom- it was that strong. I rushed to the bathroom, grabbed a can of air freshener, and blasted every corner of that room.
"What do you think you're doing in my room? With MY air freshener?" Whitney pointedly asked, leering my way with a death stare.
"It stinks in here!"
"So? That doesn't give you any reason to come in here." She stepped closer out of the doorway.
"Whatever. You want to be a total scum bucket, then I'll let you be a scum bucket. I'm not cleaning your messes anymore." I stomped out and forcefully slammed the door shut behind me. I ignored the mountain of trash bags lying everywhere and threw myself on the couch.

This little incident was only the start of our problems. A few days later, I found myself watching television in the living room. I was tired out from my hard day of babysitting and planned a special 'spa day' for myself. It would start with watching my favorite show at six, eating a good meal I saved specifically for today at seven, then conclude with a bubble bath. I smiled just thinking about it.

Then Whitney happened. The moment I heard the fridge door squeal ajar and the microwave beep, I became suspicious.
"Whit, what are you making over there?" I asked, hiding my growing sense of dread.
"Just some barbecue chicken wings, pizza, and corn. Why?"
"Oh." I blanked out for a minute. "Is the pizza pepperoni flavored?"
"Yeah." At least I still have my mint ice cream hidden in the- "Ooh mint!" That's it. Now I'm angry.
"Whitney, that was MY food! And you knew it was mine!" I stormed over to her. She clicked her tongue at me.
"You should be glad you aren't getting these calories. You don't need them."
"Did you just call me fat?"
"If I did?"
"Get out."
"Or what?"
"I SAID GET OUT." I shouted, so enraged that I punched a hole in the wall and didn't even feel it happen.
"You're rude. I'm glad I'm leaving. Good luck paying on your own." I mentally flung every curse word I ever heard of at her as she went to her room and packed her bags. Shortly after, she glared at me before trudging out of sight with bags in hand.
"Who needs her. I can handle anything life throws at me. I just have to make a call to my family."

Then I realized I was alone.