eleven

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Harry's POV:

"Mum, can I please drink a fizzy drink?" I tug on her floral dress, looking up at her with the biggest puppy eyes I can muster, sticking out my bottom lip for added effect.

She glances at her watch and then back down at me with a small smile. "It's late, almost midnight, but tonight's a special occasion so go ahead, hun. I think they're in the fridge, but don't take long. The ball is dropping soon, you wouldn't want to miss it! After all, this is the first time you've ever seen it."

I hug her around the waist as a thank you. She and my dad never let me drink soda since I'm only 7 and still in primary school because apparently fizzy drinks have caffeine, just like the coffee Mum and Dad drink each morning. But New Year's Eve and my birthday are normally their two exceptions to the 'no caffeine' rule.

I shuffle through the crowd of friends and family that my parents have invited over for the night. I didn't invite any of my school friends because they weren't allowed to stay up this late because their parents said so, but this is the first New Year's Eve party I've been allowed to stay up for, so I'm excited either way.

I recognize a few of my parents' friends and a few family members as I pass by them on my way to the refrigerator. My dad's in the kitchen and I run up to him. "Dad, Mum said I could have a soda! Can you get me one from the fridge? She puts them on the top shelf in there and I can't reach it without a stool,"

He smiles and ruffles my curly hair before opening the fridge. But after a few seconds of rummaging around on the top shelf, he frowns and shuts the fridge door.

"There's none left down here, I think my friend from work drank the last one. We keep a few different flavors downstairs, though, so go ahead and run down in the basement to get yourself one," He tells me.

"Just one, though! Can't have you all sugared up when you're supposed to go to bed right after midnight," My dad laughs to himself.

"The basement?" You never know what kind of monsters are in the basement, it's dark and a scary unknown.

My one friend from school - Henri - told me that he once saw a zombie in his basement when he went to find a football to play with, and he never goes down there anymore.

But at the same time, I really, really want a fizzy drink.

"Yeah, you'll be alright I promise there are no creatures downstairs, okay?"

"Okay, I believe you," I nod slowly, "BUT if I get attacked by a monster I'm blaming it on you, and you better rescue me because my birthday is in two months."

"Sounds like a plan. But be quick, the ball is dropping in..." He looks over to the tv in the living room, where the program is airing, "Three minutes! Then it'll be 2002, isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah, I'm so excited! I made a resolution to hug my best friends every day in school," I beam fondly at the thought of them.

"That's adorable," He gushes giving me a little hug, "Okay, hurry up. I'm going to go join your mum and friends in the living room."

I thank him and make my way to the basement, speed walking to save time. My choices are Tango, Coca-Cola, or Vitmo. I grab a can of Tango because the bubbly orange-ness reminds me of a fizzy orange juice (my favorite juice).

Just as I've turned around, fizzy drink in hand, I hear loud, echoing footsteps descending the squeaky basement stairs. I freeze, trying to rack my brain of the zombie survival attacks I saw in the 'Buzz Buster's 101 Ways To Survive A Zombie Attack' movie last weekend. 

Make Me Beg [l.s - edited version]Donde viven las historias. Descúbrelo ahora