Puddles

Chapter 1: The Unknown Room

Bam! went the large book as I slammed it shut. I loved that noise. The main character in the books always slams the book before looking slowly up to say something profound or inciting. I realized after a few seconds that, considering the poor book's old age, slamming it was probably not the greatest idea. Looking up abruptly, nearly banging my head on the closet's low ceiling in the process, I watched a bird out my window. Oakland, California started a new day with me, as a man walked his Labrador, cars crisscrossed the streets, and stores swung their large signs around to the 'open' side.

"Erin?" a sweet voice sounded, causing me to bang my head on the ceiling this time. "Is your suitcase packed? If you're all ready, please feel free to ask what you can do to help."

My mom poked her head around the small closet door (yes, closets can have windows) wearing a spring green dress and beach wedges with stripes of the same color. Her bouncy, curly short hair said she had almost just woken up, and so did her half-applied make-up. Darker jade eyes smiled dangerously down at me. I knew that "smile." When she wears that smile, no matter what she says, she's telling you to get up and go do something productive. I hesitated a few seconds before running past her to zip up my overstuffed suitcase.

Today we were headed for my aunt and uncle's house in Newington, only a few hours away from ours. Mom had signed onto a week long gardening convention, and she knew she wouldn't be able to take all of us, so my uncle agreed to keep us. Staying at their house was generally boring, except for the fact that Uncle Dave was a librarian, which for me meant lots and lots of books. Uncle worked at the small, quiet town library, which certainly wasn't anything to get excited about, but it was still a library.

"Could you go help your sister with breakfast?" Mom interrupted my thoughts with her deceivingly sweet voice.

She might just as well have said, 'Leave that fat thing alone, go downstairs, and fix your sister breakfast!' but that's not the way she runs things. I took the stairs three at a time, swinging by that poor banister, and landed on our main floor, beating my nine second record. I proceeded to enter a kitchen which never ceases to amaze, homeowner and guest alike.

Bland counters, light brown cabinets, and floors made of that fake tile stuff would be one thing. But when your six year old sister gets it into her tiny mind that marker covered (and I mean covered, like, you-wouldn't-know-the-wall-had-been- white covered) walls would add a bright touch to the otherwise tasteless kitchen, that's another matter ENTIRELY. Some how, none of us have lost our sight, but the kitchen is still in desperate need of something.

The little six year old girl in question was attempting to hop down from the counter while holding both the cereal box and a bowl at once. I rushed over to prevent the inevitable, helping my sister down and gently plucking both objects from her little hands. Her straight black hair would be noticeable in any crowd, but when we all got together for family photos, she looked completely out of place. None of us had black hair, and hers had been a mystery since her birth. Her brown eyes resembled my dad's, but she had received her small, adorable freckles from my mom. She carried herself like my mom, although there wasn't much to carry. Whenever we went somewhere and a big gust of wind came, Mom rushed to make sure the wind didn't lift her up into the sky. Mom and Dad had named her Victoria, which I'm sure was because of her winning smile and ginormous eyes. As I poured her cereal for what seemed like the millionth time, something crashed upstairs. Leaving Vikkie to stare longingly at the half finished job, I dashed upstairs to discover the cause of the ruckus. What I found was not in the least surprising.

Brian was sprawled across the floor, ready to leap up and fly at Caleb when I barged in. "Hey! Hey!" I shouted in vain. I rushed at Brian, pinning him to the floor only because of his shock, and nearly screamed in his face, "What are you doing? We leave in fifteen minutes!"