Hyper

There's no place like home (15th time's the charm)

On the Taxi ride to our new house, I couldn't stop thinking about Amanda and Samantha. Why was I feeling like I had known Amanda for years and finally found out she liked me, when we had just met? And why was I feeling like I was cheating on Samantha? Like I had gotten a lucky break by moving away from her?

Wow, California really turns you into a wreck. And I thought my mother was emotional!

Which girl do I choose? This is like the time where I couldn't decide who I liked better, Spiderman or The Human Torch. It's almost an exact situation too! Spiderman can climb wall and shoot webs, but like Samantha, keep his secret identity a secret. Kind of like how Samantha was a jerk to me but secretly liked me. On the other hand there's The Human Torch, who can fly and can catch on fire. Just like how Amanda shows no interest in me and has a boyfriend!

Okay, maybe not. But you get my point!

Why am I so worked up about this anyway? Samantha is halfway across the country and, with my luck, Amanda is halfway across the state! Stop being such a soap opera, drama queen. Jeez, Peter.

Then there's that man. Who was he. Was he a werewolf? With that trench coat and those sunglasses, he could've been covered with fur and I wouldn't have noticed. I sighed. Peter, please be realistic. There's no way he was a werewolf. Don't be such an idiot! Of course he was a vampire. Everyone knows that vampires are highly sensitive to UV light, so that explains the trench coat and sunglasses. Even the eyes match up.

Yup, I'm a genius. I have a vampire stalker.

Or maybe it's just some guy trying to scare the heck out of me. Either way, I don't really care. It was probably just a trick of the light. But Peter, think about it. In movies, that's always what they say when they're about to go and get murdered. It's a classic. The young boy thinks he sees something, says it's the trick of the light, then boom, gets his but assassinated by some possessed serial killer. Not the best way to go out. But hey, you get to go better than that guy in The Mask. Being flushed down the toilet is not one of my choice of how to die.

But who was that? And was he a possessed serial killer?

I snapped out of my thoughts when my dad opened my door. "Home sweet home, kid."

I sighed. My dad has such a way with words. I closed my book and unbuckled my seat belt. Why was I so worried about some dude on the side of the road. In New Jersey we had tons of dudes sitting on the side of the road. I mean, most of them we're either homeless or drug dealers, but I was never worried about them then. So why was I being so paranoid? I grabbed my rucksack and hopped out of the car. Then I dropped my pack.

Holy. Hot. Tamales. Los Angeles was getting better by the second.

I was standing in front of a huge mansion decked with a huge front lawn and a garage that was bigger than my previous house. Two huge stone lions stood at the front doors, like they were waiting for someone.

I must be dreaming! Oh, I get it now. I'm still in a coma. Yeah, that's right. This is all a part of my imagination. I frowned. Wait, if I'm still dreaming, then how come I can-

"April Fool's!"

Suddenly the mansion and the lawn flickered. Then my parents came around the car and picked them both up. Hang on, what? I rubbed my eyes and tried to make sense of the situation. C'mon Peter! Sharpen up!

You know the "garage" I was talking about? Well, that was my actually new house. Well, I must get going. I have to slam my head against the wall about seventy-two times.

The "mansion" and "lawn" were two LED screens that projected a very realistic hologram. I was momentarily impressed by the feat. I constantly told my genius parents that they should into the market with these inventions, but they refused.