Kismet

Chapter Three

I stare up at my closet in frustration. It seems unusually small. Then I notice that my horrible gray and green sweater that sits in the back is gone. Now that I think, I hadn't even put it away yet. Mom must have some of my clothes still packed. My decent clothes, that is. Not half-pajamas and hang-out clothes.

   I look desperately in the single unpacked box still in my room. I whip it open, only to see my collection of books filled to the bottom. No clothes.

   I open my door and call out, "Mom!" I wait. . . no answer. "Mom? Chris!"

   I hear faint talking. Mom's voice, once and a while Chris', and. . . Dad's? He must've come home from work early. There was a deeper voice, but the strange thing was that they stayed by the door. Shrugging, I swing my door open. I'll hop down the stairs, grab my box with my clothes, and run back upstairs to dress before they come.

   Piece of cake.

   Wincing, I wrap my towel around my chest so it hangs down to my thighs. Turns out, there's a huge bruise on my stomach now the size of a baseball. It hurts really freaking bad, but Mom said it probably won't go away until a week or so. I also had multiple tiny scratches on my arms, but I barely felt those. 

   Holding one hand on my towel to keep it on me, I step out of my room. "Mom?" Still no answer. I mutter and walk down the hallway, to the stairs. I quickly go down three steps, before things suddenly become quiet downstairs.

   I look up. "What-" My eyes become huge, and my legs freeze on the third step down. There wasn't just Mom, Dad, and Chris at the door. Another man, a woman, and a boy my age sit at the door, staring up at me with uncomfortable gazes. The boy lowers his to the floor, running a hand through his hair.

   My cheeks burn, and I quickly flash up the stairs again, stumbling on the way up. I rush back into my room and slam the door in a panic, my lungs nearly stopping with pure embarrassment.

   Oh my gosh. What the heck did I just do.

   I bury my head in my hands, realize that I made my first impression showing them my half-nude body and my hair wet and dripping down my back. I feel. . .  I feel like an idiot.

   A pure, half-nude idiot.

  I had no choice but to dress in my hang-out clothes. I have no idea how I am supposed to show my face to them again. Especially that boy. 

   But Mom came in my room. "Kiara! Hurry up and get your clothes on. They're waiting to meet you."

   "Mom!" I cry, looking up from my closet. "Why didn't you answer me and tell me they were here?" My embarassment was still fresh in my brain and cheeks.

   Mom rolls her eyes. "Kiara, they don't care. Just get dressed."

   I keep myself from growling. "Fine. I'll be down."

   Mom nods and shuts my door, leaving me to figure out my clothes problem to myself. Sighing, I quicky put on my tank top, and shorts with holes ripped on the left theigh. I slip on a sweatshirt from my old school, Westington High. It was blue with black lettering on the front, along with a picture of our mascot the Dragon.

   I comb my hair, towel-drying it back to its light brown style down my back. I comb my side bangs aside, out of my face. Only mascara for makeup, along with Cherry lip balm. 

    I don't put on any shoes or socks as I prepare for an awkward dinner downstairs. Sighing heavily, I walk down the hallway and down the stairs. I glance into the kitchen from the top of the railing, but they aren't there. Then I hear their voices from the den.