The Death of Me

Chapter One

Chapter One

           Loud music made the floor of my best friend’s bedroom shake, and I laughed to myself as that very best friend, Holly’s favorite song blasted through the house— some random rap song with a random entering of the same falsetto voice singing the same lyrics, over and over.

            Holly was throwing another one of her parties. I personally wasn’t a fan of these parties, maybe I had social anxiety, but the only reason I went to them was because of her. I usually just sat in her room, fiddling with her fancy laptop, listening to music and trying to drown out the music shaking her room and giving me a headache.

            Pretty much the whole entire school came, and because part of my school happened to be my little sister, Gabriella, well, she was here, too. But unlike me, she was a fan of these “wild parties.” I could practically hear her whooping a floor away, and it was shrill and always worsened my migraines.

            Love her to death.

            I currently was turning up a song on Holly’s extravagant Mac to do my nails to, without a care in the world, because her bedroom door was always locked. I didn’t want some drunk couple to stumble in making out and laughing like a couple of crazies, because yeah, it had happened before and yes, it was as awkward as it seemed. I had to hide under the bed, too tentative to speak up, and waited until they were done… you know… before I rolled out from under her bed, cramped and scarred for life.

            Country music filled the room, and I couldn’t help from nodding my head to the music, singing along to the lyrics that I recalled, and tapping my foot. The music clashed with the rap booming through the walls, exhibiting how polar opposite our tastes are. I shook the nail polish, a bright green the same color as the camisole I was currently wearing— wrinkled from a night’s sleep at Holly’s house. I had been up here all day, since before the party, so there was no need to change into the clothes of the living.

            I rolled up the ends of my black sweatpants, situating my foot against her desk that was closest to her bed. I uncapped the top, and then began to coat my big toe with lime green.

            As the music hit the chorus, I sang along, rather loudly. Besides, no one could hear me up here, and even if they could, they wouldn’t know who it was. Now, I was fully aware that I’m tone deaf, and I didn’t need anyone to tell me how I wasn’t hitting any of the notes and sounded like some type of dying animal, but I love to sing and I didn’t care.

            Maybe that’s why, with total abandon, I sang the beginning chorus line: “I wanna kiss a girl, I wanna hold her tight!” loudly and quite horribly, and didn’t notice the door open.

            I finished painting all of my toes on my right foot, so I squirmed around on my butt, grunting unattractively, and kicking my left foot up onto the desk. “Maybe make a little magic in the moonlight…” I continued to sing, and that’s when I heard chuckling from the doorway.

            I let out a yelp of surprise, jumping to my feet, and lunged for the laptop. I slammed the top down, and the music ceased. My mouth gaped open with a mind of it’s own when I spotted a guy standing in the doorway, an amused smile on his face.

            “I thought the door was locked,” was the first thing I said to him, my tone defensive. He looked at the laptop, and back to me.

            “Wow… you’re quite the singer,” he noted. I let out a choked, nervous laugh of disbelief. Was that a back-handed insult? Or a joke? Was it sarcasm? His voice was so casually dead-pan that I couldn’t tell.