Trouble in Twinsville

Chapter Three- Claire

As I sat at the polished granite countertop, composing a list of snacks we would need for the party, I heard a series of loud thumps coming from the basement. Oh well, at least Amalia was occupado, as my Spanish teacher would say. Glancing at the clock, I saw it read 5:30. Already? I didn't realize we had spent so much time eating snack and talking - or, I guess, arguing. I sat back down and picked up my pencil, only to be interrupted by a doorbell. Turning around,  I spotted Nicki waving through the tall windows framing the door. For once, she was early. Too early. Sighing, I stood up and walked over to open up the door.

"Hey hey hey!" Nicki said excitedly. Exasperated, I gave her the Look. "What?" she replied innocently, dropping her sleepover and duffel by the door.

"You're early. For once. And we aren't even ready yet!" I groaned, dramatically falling into her and almost knocking her down.

"I do live down the street, it's not that long a walk," Nicki told me logically. "Speaking of we, where's Mali?" As if by cue, there came a loud noise from the basement. We looked at each other. "Not again," Nicki muttered as we stumbled down the stairs to be greeted by an amazingly fabulous set-up. Amalia had managed to rearrange all the furniture so the couches formed a large U around a large wooden table. Lamps, many with ripped shades or scratched necks, stood around forming a cozy, warm lighted area for us to relax in. As for the random assorted objects, they had been pushed to the corner, leaving a wide carpeted area perfect for pillow fights.

"Mali, this is awesome!" I cried, stunned by her super-cool arrangement.

"I second that," agreed Nicki, as we stared open mouth at our recently discovered interior designer, who was at the moment blushing from the praise.

"Thanks," she replied, smiling.

"As much as I hate to leave, we should probably go upstairs and make sure the other details are in order," I said sorrowfully. Luckily we'd be back there soon.

The three of us paraded up the stairs with the grace of a herd of elephants. "Okay," said Nicki, grabbing my list off the counter as we passed it on our way outside, "we need to go get this stuff and be back in like forty minutes. Mali, do you have any money with you? Claire? I have about twenty with me right now."

"Yep," I said, "and Amalia probably does too. Right?" She nodded. "Okay, then lets go."

"Wait!" my sister cried. "I need to text Mom and Dad first."

Our mom was a director who shot commercials around town and was usually gone all day and sometimes longer. However, she loved being updated on everything we did. Meanwhile, my dad was pretty much her opposite. An author, he worked from home, and usually stayed locked in his attic office constantly. He didn't really care what we did as long as it was legal.

"Fine," I told her, "just do it on the way. We should really head out." We walked out the garage door and onto a path, Mali's eyes glued to her phone.

"Mom says to have fun and be safe. Dad hasn't responded," she announced halfway to the grocery store.

"I expected as much," I replied. "Now, where's the list? Nicki?"

"Got it!" she said, brandishing it like a sword. "We need chips and cookies, and that's pretty much it for the list. But I was thinking ice cream?"

"Sounds good," I answered. "Once we get there, we split up. Nicki, ice cream-" She nodded. "Amalia, chips, because you need the list, and me, cookies!" As we arrived at the automated door, she grabbed the list and gave me a grateful smile.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"No problem," I replied, as we all split our separate ways.

I wandered through the grocery store and spotted a sign directing me to an aisle on the other end of the store. Checking my silver-cased iPhone, I saw it was already 6:15. Ugh, we had like fifteen minutes to finish our shopping if we were going to get back on time. Looking down at my phone, I didn't see the person in front of me until it was too late. We collided, and I fell to the ground, ending up looking at my pink polished toes in my leather sandals. "Hey!" I said angrily, as I brushed off my light-washed, ripped jean shorts. "That hurt!"

"My bad," the other person said, standing up and making my heart skip a beat. It was Drew Meyers, the Greek God of our middle school. I quickly straightened my white lace crop-top and ran a hand through my long, wavy blond-brown hair.

"No, sorry, it was my fault, I was on my phone," I said, secretly thrilled but playing it cool.

“Claire!” He seemed surprised yet happy to see me. “Are you sure you’re okay? You took quite a fall.” I had, and the fact that he plays football and is at least a head taller then me wasn't helping. Football player, tan...oh, was he cute!

"Yeah I'm fine. I'm tougher then I look. Well, sometimes," I said, smiling.

He laughed. "I'm glad I didn't do any lasting damage."

"Sorry, but I really need to get going. My friends are waiting for me," I told him.

"It's cool. See you around, maybe?" he said winking.

"Definitely," I said, and couldn't keep the smile off my face as I turned and walked away.