Trying to regain EJ Caswell's heart, Bianca Sweeney auditions for the role of Gabriella, but something stands in her way.
"..What could go wrong?" Bianca boasted, "It's not like anyone else is auditioning with ill-intentions." She smirked; clueless...
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************************** "Ew," I shudder, stepping into my old room.
"Just the important stuff?" Damian clarifies.
I glance around and go further in, taking a deep breath, "Yeah,"
"Where are we dropping this off to? Since, you know, we're still pretending that it's just "one more week!" at Ricky's house." He mimics perfectly.
"One more week!" I protest, making my brother huff a mocking laugh, "I promise, then I'll figure out what I'm doing."
"Why isn't lover boy helping, then?" He sarcastically questions, helping me lift a heavy box, by holding the other end.
I shrug, carefully gazing down as we move out to the hall, "This is my last time stepping into the haunted mansion," My voice was completely serious, words humorous.
"Classic movie." He interjects to admire.
"..and I need you here." I casually conclude.
My brother smiled, revealing how much that meant to him, as we stopped atop the stairs, "Why? Are you gonna cry?" He jokingly mocks.
"I'm gonna push you down the stairs." I playfully correct, pushing the box into him.
"I didn't think this through," He takes a deep breath, setting the box down while looking at the steep steps, "We need, like, a germy or something."
Confusion crosses my face, "A what?"
"Like," He demonstrates, as if holding handles, "One of those germy things that you can put boxes on."
Attempting to figure out what he meant, I glance over, completely puzzled, until realization finally dawns on me, "Dumbass, a gurney!?"
"Pretty sure it's germy." He protests, standing his ground.
"It's not!" I correct, taken aback, "And besides, a gurney is what's in an ambulance. It doesn't carry boxes!"
Damian gasps in realization, "The haunted mansion is tearing us apart!" He playfully exclaims in horror.
I nod in agreement, stunned, "The energy."
"Let's go." He instructs, with a grunt while picking up the box.
I take the other end and we carefully proceed downstairs.
"...find a germy." He quietly ran his words altogether.
I glance up, stifling a laugh, "I'm going to kill you!"
*********************************** In comparison to my mother's place, things are different in the Bowen household. They usually order in for dinner, sometimes even eat in separate rooms, rather than sharing a home-cooked meal around the table—which is where we are now.
