friends.

Chapter 1

When I wake up, I'm on a air mattress in a medium-sized room. The carpet is a beige/tan-ish brown. It's still empty, besides my black/gray luggage, phone, ipad, my notebook, and a few hygiene items. The rest of the furniture and other stuff is coming in a few days.
The house is a little bigger than my old one. It's a white painted, two story house, with brownish, kind of gray, shingles. My room is on the second floor. It has 3 bedrooms. One for me, my parents, and a office/work room. There's a small basement, which has the laundry room and nice carpeting. They also have a pretty clean attic, so I claimed it as my hang out room. I showed my parents the attic and the blueprints of my idea. They agreed and know that's the only other place I would be besides my room. They weren't buying new furniture for it, but using some from my old room because it was bigger and my room now is pretty small, I guess. I don't live so close to the school because my mom would be home to drop me off. Compared to our last neighborhood, this neighborhood is kind of big. We live at the end of a round about with a few other houses and a public pool not too far down the street. My mom said that our neighbor to our right is a old couple "Mr. and Mrs. Polann". And on the left is a college student named, Nicholas. I came with her because she wanted to show our neighbors that I don't talk, so if they were to need anything, I would help, but not say anything.
The thing that sucks about me being mute is that I can't disobey at all. If I don't want to do something. Well it'll suck 'cause no one listens to a piece of paper, and I'll have to talk. I don't mind talking I guess, it's not like I'm against it. What I am against, is if I start talking again, then people expect me to respond to them.
       Before I went mute and didn't respond, people thought I was being disrespectful and I would get in trouble by teachers a lot because of that. I'd say something along the lines like, "I don't like talking," to my teachers and they'd snap and say something like "Well you're talking back," and so on. It became such a mess, so over the summer I stopped talking, interacting with people, so on. My parents took me to get looked at (or something) and they said I had selective mutism. It's more common for toddlers than a fourteen-year-old. It basically went along the lines of "Selective mutism is when you have the capability to talk but don't due to trauma from something (a loss, bullying, etc.) or because you have really bad anxiety" or something (look up for more details).
I get my iPad that's next to my air mattress. I grab the stylus that's attached to it as well. I go on my drawing app and start to sketch out a few things that I see. Like birds, and what not. That's when I hear a knock at the door. I look outside my window which shows a view of the front door and the street. There's someone who's outside my door; it's a boy. He looks around my age. He seems to be wearing navy blue blazer, black joggers, and some sports brand of shoes, I think. They looked strange. He had milk chocolate colored hair with some natural highlights. I couldn't see what his face looks like. But I sprinted down stairs with my notebook and pen because my parents weren't home and I needed to know why this random boy was at my door. Yes, I don't like communicating, but my curiosity got the best of me. My parents were getting settled at their new jobs. It had been a probably 25 seconds since he was at the door. I had finally reached the door and opened it.