"This is what she had become."
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Cleopatra Banks' last week in the small town of New Chelsea is nothing like she would have imagined it, but nothing could have prepared her for the stinging betrayal she's faced with and suddenly the prospect of...
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I wake up to the sound of hailstones hitting my balcony. The floor, the pot plants, the railing, my glass doors.
I turn to my side, praying that the weather gets worse so I won't have to go to school tomorrow but I'm stopped from going back to sleep due to the presence of a soft body on my bed that my arm falls on.
I open my eyes to find my little sister, dressed in her favorite orange onesie and soft dark curls falling on the side of her face. Her mouth is wide open and she's facing me, her body in a fetal position and her hands balled up into fists near her face.
I sit upright in my bed and she stirs a little before turning her head in the opposite direction.
My eyebrows furrow and I look at her in confusion, wondering when she even creeped into my bedroom. I smile at her sleeping form instead of getting irritated.
Last night must have really shook her up and I understand why she didn't want to be alone. She had a sister to come snuggle with, she had every right to come here and invade my treasured personal space if she thought it would make her feel better.
Children are like that.
I'm brought back to the disturbing sound of hailstones hitting against everything in their wake and I spare a glance at the windows to see just how bad everything is.
There are heavy dark cumulonimbus clouds in the sky, threatening to rip open any minute but there is no rain and certainly no hailstones.
But there is definitely something terrorizing my balcony.
I get up from my bed and avoid stepping on the few items of clothing strewn across the floor –making a mental note to clean my room later—and stalk towards my balcony. Peeping behind the drapes –lest something hits me—I notice Ethan on the other side, throwing small little objects that look like pebbles all the way from his own balcony.
Is he trying to get into trouble?
I part the drapes in the middle before stepping outside so he doesn't end up hitting me with a stone.
He gives a tentative wave and a lopsided smile from his side and I awkwardly wave at him.
I'm instantly reminded of that one time I flashed him by accident and my cheeks heat up at the mortifying memory. At least I'm dressed in a shirt and super warm pajama bottoms today so there will be no repeat of that.
He turns to his side and bends down to pick something up from the floor. I stretch my neck forward to get a better view of what he's holding in his hand now. It just so happens to be my school bag, it's bright colors making it very visible even from this point.
Why do I do things like this to myself?
"I'm coming over now," he whisper-yells and his words are barely audible that I have to strain my ears in order to hear him.
