Dream Catcher

Chapter Three: Psycho

Chapter Three: Psycho

            Rapid knocking on my door woke me from my peaceful slumber. I stirred, groggily trying to unmask the darkness of my room. Twinkling lights like stars on the ceiling greeted me next. I curled my legs into my chest and groaned, hoping against hope that the knocking would cease.

            “Ellie! Ellie! Hey! Hey! Your mom let me in! Open the door! Hey! Hey! Wake up! Hey! I know you’re in there, Ellie! Wake up!”

            I blinked twice. Confusion pinched my face into a frown. I was certain I knew the voice. The high-pitched shriek was unmistakable, but how did she know where I lived? I reluctantly flung the colorful quilt off me letting the cool air prickle my skin and lowered my feet to the unforgiving hardwood flooring. I paddled closer to the door, and as I did, the knocking grew louder and faster. I let out a deep breath and stole a glance at my alarm clock resting on the nightstand: 12: 22 A.M. was she serious?

            “Ellie! Ellie Ellison! It’s me, Misty! Open up! It’s super important! Come on!” She sang.

            I rubbed both hands against my face and shook my head. Where was Miss Clare and how on earth was Tracy sleeping through all of this? Didn’t Misty know not to wake a sleeping five year old? Suddenly it dawned on me, Misty didn’t care about any of that. She was, for lack of a better word, psycho. Didn’t I learn that all teenagers were psycho in Introduction to Psychology? Yes, it was something about how teenager’s brains were going thrpugh drastic changes into adulthood. Therefore, I was crazy too. Crazy for ever thinking I liked the redheaded bandit.

            “Where’s the fire?” I grumbled yanking on the handle. I propped the door against my foot and tried my best to glare at her. Misty blinked twice. Her clear blue eyes brushed against my body in awing shock.

            “Oh my gosh! Were you sleeping? How lame is that!” She squawked and pointed a bony finger at my oversized T-Shirt and boy boxers. “I mean, you’re eighteen. Didn’t you know all-nighters are supposed to be your friend? Lamest teenager ever!”

            Without waiting for me to respond, she shoved past the halfway opened door and jumped on my bed. She let her legs hang off the mattress and kicked them wildly around, swaying her hips to a random rhythm. As she did so, she bobbed her head around the room before finally giving it the nod of approval. She reminded me a lot of Tracy at a candy shop. She was hyperactive, wound up and ready to unleash herself on whoever stood in her way. Unfortunately, that seemed to be me. I slid the door back into place and lingered at the entrance of the room. I crossed my arms firmly over my chest and frowned.

            “Not to be rude.” I yawned. “But what are you doing here so late? Isn’t it past cerfew or something?”    

            “Curfew?” She snorted flinging her arms outward and then fell on her back. The bed jumped with the weight of her body sending her propelling upward before it finally relaxed. “My parents don’t really care about curfew. Besides, when I told them I was having a sleepover with a friend I met, they couldn’t be more happy. They went on and on and on about how proud they were of me and whatnot. It was great.”

            I nodded. So Miss Clare was right, crazy did run in the family. I sighed and slowly made my way back to the bed.

            “I don’t remember agreeing to any sleepovers.” I said casually. “In fact, I don’t really remember givin’ you my address or anythin’ like that.”

            “You didn’t.” She laughed. “Or at least not the address part. Don’t you remember saying you were free later tonight and that we should hang out? Well, here I am! Ta-da!”