Strings | s.m (✔️)

Chapter Four

"Aaliyah, sit like a lady." Mrs.Mendes commands, and Aaliyah rolls her eyes, crossing her legs over and sitting up straight.

She better not act up. Aaliyah was known for acting up, and although it's the funniest thing ever, she gets in a whole bunch of trouble.

Thankfully though, Aaliyah keeps her mouth shut and doesn't say anything.

Aaliyah's parents start up a conversation with mine, and I keep my head down, picking at my food. Whenever a conversation started, it always contained one word.

Well, name.

And it's barely ever mine.

"Oh yes, Shawn is going to be staying here for a while!"

How did I guess.

I decided to stop picking at my food and eat the small amount there was on my plate, as Shawn starts to kiss up to my parents.

I hate him.

Finally I finish, and grab my plate, heading to the kitchen. I washed my plate quickly, and started to run up the stairs, not wanting to be near Shawn for another second.

"Ari!"

Just. Great.

"Yes mother?" I ask politely, although I truly wanted to groan, ignore her, and run upstairs.

"Honey, why don't you keep Shawn company? He needs someone down here his age, and us oldies aren't much fun for him." She jokes, getting a laugh from his parents and a nervous one from Shawn.

No.

There was no way I was going to be stuck with him.

"Um, actually Mom, I'm not feeling so good right now. I think I'll head to my room." The lie silences the room, as my mother thinks about it before answering.

"Oh, well then Shawn will keep YOU company! How bout that?"

You had to be kidding. It was like she was purposefully trying to get us to hang out.

"Great." I say flatly, and I walk up to my room without waiting for Shawn to even get up from his chair. When I hear the dead silence of my room, I take a deep breath and smile. For some strange reason, I love silence. It's so overpowering, so... Loud. Yet then again, it's silence.

I usually write most of my songs when it's silent, then sing them in my head. No, I didn't bring out my guitar and have a High School Musical jam out.

I snap out of my small "stay still and think about your life" moment, and grasp my headphones, connecting them to my phone and turning music on full blast. Then, I lay on my bed and turn to face the wall, drowning into the music.

Halfway into the fourth song, I hear a cough and jump, pausing my music and turning around, to see Shawn with his hands behind his back.

What. The. Hasselhoff.

"You can leave right now. I'd rather not have some creep stalk me while I sleep." My face was stern, not a hint of a smile. Shawn then gets up, his hands still behind his back, as he slowly walks away.

He took something.

It takes me a minute to realize it too. It also takes me a minute to realize my clothes were wrinkling, since I was laying in bed.

Great.

Without taking another minute, i start thinking about all the possible things he would have taken, then searching for them.

Thankfully, all my underwear were still in the room.

Only then do I realize what was behind his back.

I search through my drawers, looking for the familiar notebook I desperately wanted to find, but just as I suspected, it was no where to be found.

Shawn stole my song book.

I storm downstairs, ready to smack everything out of him, but stop when I hear nothing.

Silence.

Which was strange, because my parents were one to talk.

"Mom?" I say, and slowly creep downstairs. What if they were kidnapped? How long was I even upstairs?

Thankfully, the voice I know and love answers me. "Yes, Ari?"

I follow her voice and see her in the kitchen, washing the dishes.

They left.

Shawn left.

Correction, Shawn left with my songbook.

"Just making sure you're here." I reply, my eyes moving rapidly, trying to spot the black cover with the words "All the things I never got to say to you" printed on it in white.

I check the dining room and living room, but no matter where I checked, my songbook was nowhere to be found.

Shawn wouldn't steal my songs. Would he?

No. The Shawn I knew, wayyyy back, would never do that. But maybe he's changed. Maybe fame has gotten the most of him.

Before another terrifying thought goes through my mind for what he could have done with it, my hand meets a book under the couch, and I pull it to find my songbook.

I flip though the pages, making sure no songs were ripped out, but none were.

What did he do with it?