The White Wolf

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

I rolled over in bed, my head pounding from the lack of music and the misery of not a single new smell of paint upon canvas. I covered my ears as for the fifth time in one day; the sickening quiet seemed to fill me with a sharp ringing. I groaned as I rolled over again; there has to be an answer to this.

As the answer formed in mind, I sat up and ran out of my room and across the hall. I hit Malroy’s door three times before calling his name. “Malroy!” I called. “Open the damn door, I need you!” I began to bang again.

As my fist came down for the eighth time, the door opened, and I hit skin. I left my fist on Malroy’s bare chest and smiled as sweetly as I could. “No,” he said, and my face dropped immediately with a glare. “Not happening,”

“But you don’t even know what I was going to ask you!” I countered, in a sad hysterical voice. “Come on hear me out, Malroy.”

“No way, I’m not getting in trouble just because you want to listen to music.” He shook his head and began to close the door. “Maybe you should find something else to do, instead of just sitting around.”

“I hate you,” I spat, as I turned on my heel and began the embarrassing walk back to my room.

“I love you to,” He said sweetly, almost laced with sugar and syrup. I was going to have fun getting back at him for this one. Let the pranks begin.

I walked back to my room and shut the door quietly. I slid down it taking a look at my room. The walls were white with pink, black, teal, and lime green paint splattered all over it. I remember painting the walls. I was going to do a moral or something, but then I got angry and I’m positive it was at Malroy. Well with the anger and four buckets of paint…I made the best of it. It looks great, though.

I had managed to make the rest of my room coordinate. I have a four post, canopy bed with multiple colored cheetah print styles draped over it to create a surrounding of colors. Then there were the pillows and blankets. Every pillow was a different shade of pink and green, most of which were either very dark or very pale. The blankets were all a deep velvety purple. That was a color that stood out, it was only upon my blankets, saucer chair, and fuzzy curtains.

My book shelf was off in the far corner of my room, just opposite of the corner that held my desk. There were two chairs and a teal coffee table by each, with black cheetah prints painted on the tops. I had a mini fridge next to my desk and a small microwave just above it. I always kept my fridge stocked with Monster Energy drinks and pizza rolls.

Then there was my bathroom, where my room looked like a splatter of colors, my bathroom was only tan with red trim along the borders. It was a very ‘classy’ bathroom, as my mother had said. She was sure to make sure the bathroom didn’t become ruined with my style of colors and print. Although she lost the battle of cheetah curtains and towels, that was all mine.

My father had said to make my room a sanctuary for only me, and that was what I had done. It expressed me, I loved color and a slight mess, but also the neatness and order of everything else clashed. It was like personality. I can very calm and mannered when I please, but on the inside all I am a variety of overlapping colors.

So this was my room, and right now I just sat there staring at it. The radio on top of my bookshelf had been taken away and now I was left with emptiness there. My closet was cleaned of any and every music providing instrument I owned. The TV was even taken, and anything resembling art, had vanished after I came home.

I sat there planning what I was to do to Malroy tomorrow. I smiled to myself as a planned formed and I jumped up running down the stairs to call my best friend since first grade, Kendra Smith.