It All Began With A Song [Editing]

Chapter 26: The Whole Story

-Natalie-

I'd be honest to you, I'm not the world's most social person, which is probably why I only have a few friends. When pep rallies occur in school, I'm usually the one who is hiding at the end of the bleachers, although occasionally, there would also be times when I'd be forced by Seth to sit in the center of the bleachers, where most of the school spirited ones are located, and they are loud, the students, I meant, when it came for the cheering for our football and basketball teams since they have both won state champions several times in the past ten years.

Ever since my mom told me that her friend, who I've also met when I was little according to my mom, was coming to visit her, I've imagined numerous different scenarios of meeting her. Whether from being formal to becoming a fool of myself, I was no doubt still unprepared of what to say. So, naturally, when this occurs, I tend to make myself appear to be more of an idiot than I already was.

When I slipped out of the room, my parents were having a small conversation with her as they carried her bags. She was in her mid-forties with brown hair situated in a casual bun, and when they heard the sound of a door closing softly, they trailed their eyes to the one who caused it: me.

"Um, hi," I pressed my sweaty hands together before waving to gesture a hello awkwardly, "I'm Natalie."

So much for a good first impression.

The woman smiled understandably at me as if she was an old friend, clear emerald eyes that looked startling familiar twinkling with slight humor, "I'm Roxanne, but call me Rox." Her smile widened as an attempt to make me feel comfortable, "you don't have to act formal around me, just be yourself; I won't judge."

My mom handed me a glass of water since she noticed my nervousness; actually I'm pretty sure everyone noticed that. Laughing to calm myself, I accepted the glass with shaky hands, still embarrassed by my way of greeting, and swallowed the liquid in a gulp before handing the glass back to her.

Just at the right moment, my dad cleared his throat, "You probably don't remember Rox, but we met her quite a while ago when we went to the foster home."

No wonder she looks familiar.

At that statement, my mom turned, and she and Roxanne began their silent exchange of conversation, a thing only close friends are capable to do, and I guessed that it was about the foster home. So I took this as a chance to leave the living room so that I could help Chase escape before they find out there's a boy in my room.

"I'm going to finish reviewing for exams. It was nice meeting you, Rox. Goodnight mom and dad."

+ + +

I couldn't exactly explain how I felt once I entered my room after greeting Roxanne. One thing I knew was that I needed to clean the room -- as soon as possible. Blobs of gooey throw-up surrounded the room (actually just the corner between the bathroom and closet) in all sorts of shape and form. During the time I was staring in awe and disgust, one particular sentence kept repeating over and over in my head.

Chase Parker is so dead.

And that's when I caught the sight of my favorite hoodie, the kind that's big and comfortable and fuzzy, laying carelessly on the floor, spilled with the same, okay possibly less, amount of throw up plastered right at the center of the black material. Before I can utter, or rather yell, out alternate curses loud enough to wake up the entire neighborhood, a grunting sound was heard somewhere in the bathroom; I'd found my target. With a hurried pace, I marched my way to the bathroom, careful to not step on any puddle of throw up that was now seeping into the carpet in order to reach him.