My Neighbor's House

The night air was warm and stuffy as we plunged off the edge of my bedroom window and ran across the wet grass. The soles of my feet tickled from the soft touch of neatly clipped strands as we cut through my front yard at an angle. My heart raced at the thought of my parents finding out we'd snuck out as we ran across the street towards the new neighbor's house.

When we reached the neighbor's lawn, we slowed to a walk—bodies scattered throughout the front yard and driveway. Everyone looked much older than us. People were drinking from red plastic cups and were yelling and laughing at one another. They completely ignored Jessica and me as we walked right inside the craftsman-style house, a two-story blue home with white trim.

Inside, we pushed past bodies in a slim hallway, before Jessica said, "Mora, I need to use the restroom. Meet me in the backyard in five minutes."

"No, Jess," I said, trying to protest. "Why can't I wait right here?"

"Don't be such a worrywart," Jessica said, narrowing her eyes at me. "I thought you were cool."

"I am cool."

Jessica stepped into the bathroom, flipping her hair, and said, "Okay, then prove it." She shut the door behind her, leaving me alone in a room full of adults.

All the reasons I should turn around and walk back home came flooding in, as if my body were speaking for me, telling me to run away and never come back. The soft panic that either grows or fades depending on your next move begins to surface in my throat. Jessica may not acknowledge me as her friend on Monday morning at Jefferson Middle School if I continue to let those thoughts swell into the vortex of overreacting. She promised to let me sit with her in the cafeteria at lunch this time. I can't ruin this. She's my only chance at a semi-decent year of sixth grade. Once all my classmates see me sitting with Jessica and the rest of her seventh-grade friends, nobody will want to call me those mean names anymore.

Breathing slow and deep, letting my thoughts dissipate into the humid summer heat leaking through the open front door, I replace my inner fears with the popular girl I planned to become tonight. Setting my shoulders, I sauntered towards the back patio, weaving through sweaty bodies of all shapes and heights.

The house felt lifeless on the inside, with only a square wooden coffee table full of red plastic cups by the hallway of the entrance with a round barrel sitting beside it, a few tall wooden stools at the kitchen bar, and two brown leather couches in the living room. Besides that, there wasn't anything else in the entire downstairs of this home. Every wall was bare and white. There were no picture frames, decorative pieces, or shelves anywhere. My new neighbor moved in almost six months ago, I'm sure he could have done more to decorate by now.

As I walked through the French doors to the backyard, I walked by a table on the patio. On top of it was a can full of pens, along with notepads and business cards spread across the white table cloth. A banner across the front said, "Take one," so I stopped to grab a pen and read the inscription on its side. "Solentus Inc.," it said, whatever that meant. I slipped the pen into my pocket.

"Get out of the way!" Someone shouted from behind me.

I turned around to see what was happening as a group of men pushed one another forward to get away from someone else on the lawn. The shocking events unfolding in front of me, a screaming crowd in the middle of the yard.

Turning my attention to a large guy holding an ax, anger fumed off him as he swung the ax out at some men scrambled towards the house, barely escaping inside unscathed. The broody-looking guy gathered the shaft in both hands, veins bulging from his forearms and neck, and stalked straight towards me, me of all people. Everyone scattered away from me, as I stared straight at the ax coming my way. My heart pounded in my chest, urging me to run, but my feet wouldn't listen.

Before I could scream or call for help, a man brushed by me, connecting with my shoulder, which caused me to stumble against the table, flinging pens everywhere. Rebalancing myself, I watched as the man stepped in front of me and met the man holding the ax in the middle of the backyard. The man slowly brought his hands out in front of him, attempting to calm the guy with the ax down, but it seemed that there was nothing he could do to bring the guy to his senses. In fact, the guy grew angrier by the minute, shaking his head side to side while twisting the hilt of the ax with his hands as if it were a rag that needed to be rung out.

Before I could register what happened next, I witnessed the man try to remove the ax from the guy's hands. My own hands cupped over my mouth as I stifled a scream. The guy shoved the man back and swung with a powerful overhand swing, sinking the head of the ax deep into the man's chest. The man collapsed onto his back. The guy straddled the man, before putting one foot on the man's chest to yank the ax free. Blood sprayed from the man's chest-a bright blood-curdling red color replaced any remaining original color from his crisp white dress shirt.

I couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was choking me. Too shocked to move, I covered my eyes with my hands. Still, I couldn't close my ears to the deep crunch of bone as the ax split the man's skull next. My heart pounded so hard all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save me. But no one would because no one was there. A choked cry for help forced itself up my throat as tears of panic raced down my cheek. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for me—a short-lived twelve years of life.

Hands clasped my shoulders, throwing me back as a group of four men ran past me towards the carnage. The group of men grabbed onto the ax guy and pinned him to the ground. They held his arms and legs then removed the ax from his grip.

Eyes locked with the murderer, and his black eyes cleared from the momentary shadow of the rest of his face. Those horrific black eyes relieved me from my unmovable state. My pounding heart matched my feet against the pavement of the patio as I took off, running towards the safety of my home. I raced through the open house, out the front door, and across the street to my home.

Reaching up, I slid my bedroom window open and climbed back inside my room, slamming it shut behind me.

Jessica laid diagonally across my bed. Taking in a deep breath, I walked over to her and whispered into her ear, "It's just me, Jessica, you don't have to pretend to be asleep." Jessica stirred but didn't respond.

After nudging her in the shoulder and getting no reaction, I sat at the edge of my bed and stared at Jessica, confused as to how she had the time to slip into her pink and white polka-dot pajamas and fall asleep so fast. I saw a girl with straight black hair and hazel eyes wearing black with white polka-dot pajamas staring back at me through the mirror. That's when everything hit me like a tidal wave of realization. Searching my pocketless pajama pants, I checked to see if what I thought was true or not. I sighed in relief as I realized my answer.

None of it was real. There was no pen.