“Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep.”
Monotone pulses from my alarm clock vibrated my bedside table, which vibrated the floor, which vibrated my bed, which vibrated my pillow, which in turn vibrated my head. I groaned and slapped the snooze button on top. It was Thanksgiving. And I could think of at least one thing I wasn’t thankful for; Alarm clocks!
A knock came from the door. “Honey? I thought I heard your alarm going.”
“Yeah, Mom.” I answered after a yawn. “It went off. But I was kinda hoping that I could sleep in today.”
“Oh. Well, since you’re already up, could you help me bake the bread?”
I sighed and rolled off of my bed. “Sure. Be right out.” I locked the door and changed from my Christmas tree pajamas into blue jeans and a black jacket. I quickly ran a brush through my unusual brown-with-blonde-highlights hair and hurried to the kitchen.
“So,” I put my hand on the counter as Mom bustled back and forth. “What did you need help with?”
She looked up. “What? I don’t need help.”
“But… didn’t you just knock on my door?”
“No.” She smiled sympathetically at me and went back to her bustling.
“Adam.” I muttered under my breath. I stomped back to the hall and flung my brother’s door open. He was sprawled on his bed, laughing. “That was really rude, Adam.” I scowled.
He rolled over and looked at me. Then he burst out laughing again. “Have fun making the bread, sweetie!” he said, sounding exactly like Mom.
“I hate it when you do that.” I glanced around his room and my eyes fell on his pocket knife, lying on his desk only inches from the door. “So I’m getting even.”
Quick as a humming bird, my special ability, I grabbed his knife and ran. Adam the Oaf chased me outside, easily twenty yards behind me. “Rayen, that’s not funny! Give it back!”
I darted up a tree and held it out tauntingly. “Say you’re sorry.”
He huffed. “Sorry.”
“And what?” He scowled.
“And I won’t do it again?” he asked hopefully.
“That’s better.” I smirked and slid the knife into my pocket.
“You said that if I said I was sorry, you’d give it back!”
“Now when did I say that?” I thought aloud. “I just recall telling you to say you’re sorry, not that I’d give your knife back if you did…”
“I could kill you, Rayen!”
I shrugged dismissively. “Good for you.”
He shook his fist. “Get down here, right now!”
“No, thanks.” I grinned and shook my head. Older brothers; bossy older brothers.
At that moment, Mom stuck her head out the kitchen window. “Kids, come inside. You’ll get all dirty, and then you’ll have to wash before the Riveras get here.”
Oh, boy. Dilemma alert. Adam smirked up at me. “Any time you’re ready, princess.”
“Oh, shut up.” I glanced around the yard and held my breath. Adam suddenly looked concerned.
“Rayen, are you okay? You’re face is turning red.”
“I’m fine.” I said, letting out my breath. I looked at the street passing our house. “Look, Adam! It’s Rose, riding on a purple bike! She’s waving!”
Adam turned and waved at… nothing. I jumped down and ran like the wind to the house. “Loser!” I laughed. I fumbled for the handle as Adam caught up. I slammed the door just as Adam skidded to a stop and hurried to my room, panting.
Quickly, I locked the door. Adam was hopeless, especially when it concerned his dream girlfriend, Rose. Sighing and shaking my head mockingly, I tossed up the knife and caught it. I sat on my bed and counted down from ten, and Adam slammed against the door. “Mom!” he shouted. “Rayen took my pocket knife!”
“Rayen, give the knife back.” Mom’s voice sounded distant and distracted, but I couldn’t be too sure it was really her.
“But I can’t, Mom. If I do, then he’ll use it against me.”
“Why would he do that?” Her voice was even more distracted. It was Mom; Adam wasn’t that good. I opened the door to find Adam scowling down at me.
With a flick of my wrist, I tossed the knife to him and he caught it, spun on his heel and returned to his room. “There you go, your highness.” I smirked and shut the door. I fell face up on my bed and grabbed my diary off of the nightstand. After documenting a brief entry, I flipped back to the beginning.
August 28, 2003
It’s my birthday! I’m SEVEN now! Is this notebook cool or what??? Mom gave it to me. Adam gave me a pair of dopey little shoes. Yellow ones. With purple polka dots. Yuck! What kind of brother gives their sister YELLOW shoes with PURPLE polka dots? I didn’t know how to spell polka dots, so I had to ask Mom. She thought I was writing him a thank you note, which meant I had to. Along with thank you notes for EVERYONE else. So, I better go do that. Oh, I had the weirdest dream last night. A bird told me go sit by the river. So when I woke up this morning, I sat by the river, but nothing happened. I waited HOURS and nothing happened. So I went home. Weird, huh?
RAYEN WOODCOCK, 7 YEARS
Sheesh, I was an odd kid. Just like most kids. And if everyone’s odd, then isn’t odd just normal? And if odd is normal, what exactly is normal? Go, figure.
A shadow passed quickly over my bed and I looked at my window. The shadow vanished. “Weird…” I said slowly and stood up. I peered out the window, but nothing was there.