DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. DO NOT PUBLISH ON ANOTHER SITE.

"Alison, it's time to wake up," my mother's voice drifted from down the hallway and into my room. I didn't have to open my eyes. I knew she was leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed. "Your father had to go down to the office and I need to go grocery shopping. Now, get up and get dressed."

"Today's a Sunday and tomorrow's the first day of school," I groaned, rolling over to look at her. "Can't I just enjoy my last day of freedom?"

"No."

"Talking to you always makes my day," I shot her a sarcastic smile and she raised an eyebrow, amused.

"I told you not to stay up all night watching Modern Family, but you did, and I will not let you sleep through the whole day. You won't be able to sleep tonight and you'll feel tired tomorrow. You're going to have to get up anyway."

"And why is that?"

"Charlie got out again."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding!" I cried, pulling the covers away. Mom smirked and left downstairs. Charlie was my dog. He's a lot of work, too. Whatever the case may be, he always found a way to escape the house and roam around the neighborhood. Now, I never really worried when he did escape. Everybody was pretty friendly in our neighborhood, with Mrs. Walker as an exception, but still.

It's just that I always had to go look for him. I remember that I had to consistently whine and beg my parents to get me a dog. Having pets was a piece of work, but they eventually gave in. I've had Charlie for such a long time, now.

I got out of bed and stretched. Then, it was the same routine all over again. I took a quick bath, brushed my teeth, and then slipped into some comfortable clothes. I was not a fan of dressing up, to be honest. My wardrobe consisted of the same black pants with a different band t-shirt now and then. I tied my hair up into a messy bun then drew the curtains open. My room had a balcony and I liked opening the doors while it was still day out. I stepped onto the balcony and observed the neighborhood. A moving truck caught my attention. It was parked in front of the house right next to us.

My eyebrows knit together in both confusion and curiosity.

(I was a very curious person and it was going to get me killed one day.)

(Trust me.)

Mr. and Mrs. Roberts occupied that house and they were such a kind-hearted couple. I didn't know they had moved out.

(Probably because, you know, I spent the entire summer locked in my room.)

Shrugging, I headed downstairs and into the kitchen. My mom was skimming through a cookbook and drinking coffee. I grabbed a bowl from a cabinet and poured some cereal.

"Mom, I have a question," I said, proceeding to pour milk into the bowl.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"There's a moving truck outside. What ever happened to the Roberts?" I asked, shoving cereal into my mouth. Mom closed the cookbook and set it aside.

"It's pretty obvious," she said. "They moved out. They were tired of Florida. I think they moved to Massachusetts. They were such nice neighbors. Evening talks with Melissa were always pleasant."

"Next question," I said. "Since when do you read cookbooks?"

She took a sip from her coffee. "I want to make a casserole."

"You'll end up burning the house down."

Mom set her cup down and glared at me. "Alison, I can disown you. Don't test me."

I sheepishly smiled. "Sorry."

Mom smiled and rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm just trying to be a good neighbor. Since the Roberts moved out, another family moved in. To welcome them to the neighborhood, I'm going to try to cook a casserole."

"Key word: try."

She glared at me again and I laughed. "Okay, I'm done. So, did you get acquainted with the family?"

"I did...with the mother, at least," she replied. "Such a nice woman. We had coffee and I helped with a few boxes. She has two sons, except one's away at college. The other moved in with her."

"And the father?"

"She's divorced."

"Good grief, woman, you got all that from your first meet?" I exclaimed, placing the bowl in the sink.

"Oh, shush you," she sternly said, although I could see she was trying to hide a smile. "Anyway, she was such a nice and kind lady. I say her kids are probably just like that. They're probably respectful gentlemen." She looked at her watch. "Oh, shoot. I better head to the grocery store now. You need to go find Charlie."

After mom pulled out of the driveway, I decided that, yes, I needed to go find my dog. I left the house and was instantly content. One of the things that made me happy was good weather. My personal favorite was not too hot and not too cold; sort of in between. I liked a cool breeze and I liked it when the sky was a clear blue and the sun not too bright.

I began walking, in hopes that Charlie was near. I didn't get far, though. I saw a tall, blonde woman struggling with a box and I figured that that was the lady my mother had coffee with in the morning. I smiled and made my way over. "Excuse me, do you need any help with that?"

The woman turned around. Her eyes scanned my face for a brief second and then she smiled widely. "If it's not too much of a trouble, dear. Thank you." I grabbed the box and she held other small ones. I followed her inside the house and set them down on the couch.

"That was the last of them," she smiled. "Thank God. I'm Mimi Moon. We just moved here."

"I'm Alison," I smiled back. "My mother, Penny, was the one who talked to you in the morning."

"Oh, she's your mother? Now I know where you get your kindness from," Mimi exclaimed. "How can I repay you? Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No need to repay me," I said. "But thank you. I need to go find my dog."

"I hope you find your dog, and thank you again!"

I waved goodbye and left. My mother was right; she really was a nice and kind lady. Smiling, I continued walking forward, turning my head left and right, trying to find the little rascal.

"Let me guess," a voice sneered. "You lost that dog of yours again, didn't you?"

I stopped in my tracks and looked at Mrs. Walker. As I had said before, she was my elderly (and grouchy) neighbor. Personally, I think Mrs. Walker hated everybody, so I didn't take personal offense to it. She hated my guts. All I knew about Mrs. Walker was that she was a heavy drinker and smoker. Sometimes, I didn't hesitate to pitch in and tell her that smoking was very bad for her health. In response, she'd take a drag and insult me. Believe me, Mrs. Walker was a pain (a huge one), but it still didn't stop me from pointing out what smoking could do.

(And I did not want to see that.)

I sighed and smiled at Mrs. Walker. "How are you today?"

"You've lost your dog so many times, kid, you'll end up losing your future kid as well and I feel sorry for that child," she replied.

Ouch.

(I didn't blame her.)

"It's always nice talking to you, Mrs. Walker," I said. "I hope you have a wonderful day."

Before she could insult me even more, I proceeded to walk further. It took some time to find Charlie, but I eventually did. He was sniffing around, his tail wagging. When I stopped in front of him, he looked up and barked. "It's time to go home, you nasty." He barked again and ran ahead of me.

Charlie liked to race me home.

"I'm going to cry!" Trish yelled once I had answered the phone.

My eyes went wide. "What? Are you okay?"

"No, I am most definitely not okay! Do I sound okay? Because I am not!" she cried.

"Trish, just tell me what's going on!"

(Trish was my best friend.)

She stayed silent for a brief second. "We have school tomorrow, I am sobbing."

My shoulders sagged and I rolled my eyes, putting on a straight face even if she couldn't see me. "I thought something happened."

She groaned. "Ugh, I'm stuck at home doing the summer work. I really do regret not doing this before...but, the good news is, everything I need is on the Internet. That is why I'm glad I was born in this generation."

"Hallelujah!"

I could feel her rolling her eyes. "Anyway, what are you doing? Did Charlie get out again?"

I frowned. "Does everybody expect me to always lose my dog?"

"Well, we got used to it, so yes," she casually said. "You're a horrible owner."

"Trish!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she laughed. "But you didn't answer my question. What are you doing?"

I sighed and stretched. "I'm at home. Dad's at work and Mom's out shopping. I think I'll just read a book or something." I wasn't kidding, either. I bought a book last week and I was very eager to get my hands on it.

"Oh, wow! Fun!" she cheered.

"Sarcastic ass," I muttered.

She laughed. "Have fun with that, Ally. I need to go continue copying answers from online. See ya."

"Yeah, you do that."

Then we hung up. I grabbed an apple and headed upstairs to my room. Charlie was seated on my bed. I closed the door and picked up the new book. Before I sat down to read, I decided it would be nice to play a record, specifically a Beatles record. So I did. Making myself comfortable on the bed, I then began reading, feeling very content.

If I weren't watching another episode of a TV show I liked, I would be reading, and I loved that.

I also loved The Beatles.

Unfortunately, it didn't take long for my peaceful afternoon to be ruined. The Beatles were no longer what I heard. Some unidentified metalcore song blasted from the house next to mine. I cleared my throat and focused on my book again. But I couldn't. My mind was only focused on the noise next door, and because of that, I wouldn't be able to peacefully read.

Groaning, I got out of bed and set my book down. I stopped playing The Beatles, seeing as I wouldn't even be able to listen to them. I slipped on my shoes and stepped onto my balcony. The noise seemed to be coming from the balcony doors adjacent to mine. The doors were open and the curtains as well.

"Excuse me?" I yelled out. I couldn't really see what was going on in there. The lights were off. "Hello? Excuse me?"

No answer.

"Dammit," I muttered. The noise was too loud, in my opinion. I was pretty sure Texas could hear the music playing. I walked downstairs and left the house. Now, I knew that Mimi Moon wouldn't be playing that.

(Who knows, though? The world was full of surprises.)

Yeah, I was pretty sure it wasn't Mimi. I saw her driving away when Charlie and I returned home. Sighing, I stepped onto their porch and knocked on the door.

The thing is, whoever was in there wouldn't be able to hear the door knocking with that loud music playing. I wrinkled my nose and banged on the door but to no avail. So, I ended up banging on the door some more while ringing the doorbell in between. It was a mixture of pure annoyance.

"Are you honestly kidding me right now—" I was stopped midway when the door swung open. The music had stopped as well. In front of me stood a boy around my age and he was not happy.

Now, the first thing people do when they see a stranger is stare.

So I stared.

The boy in front of me had long (ish) blonde hair. His hair stuck out in all sorts of places, as if he didn't bother fixing it. (Or maybe it was like that.) He wore a faded t-shirt of a band I did not recognize with black pants that folded at the cuffs. He smelt of smoke. I noticed the tattoos on his arm and was instantly intrigued by his sleeve. I knew that whatever school he was going to, girls would be drooling all over him. And guys, too.

And then I realized I had spent a good three minutes staring at the guy. The guy was staring at me with a straight face, and then he frowned once I was brought back to Earth. "Can I help you?"

His tone was nowhere near nice. If I were at his doorstep asking for help, he wouldn't be willing to help. In fact, he looked like he already wanted to end the conversation.

(The one where, you know, I spent staring at him.)

(So, it wouldn't really count as a conversation.)

(And he already wanted to end it.)

(I was that good with boys.)

"Can I help you?" he asked again, clearly annoyed. I was not surprised. I tend to freeze in the midst of conversations with people I wouldn't be good at talking to. Except this time, there was no conversation and I was simply standing there like an idiot. "Listen, would you tell me what you want already?"

A charmer, indeed.

I shook my head. "Oh, crap. Um. I'm sorry. I just—your music. It's, uh, pretty loud. I mean I'm not saying you have bad taste in music but, uh, it's very loud. I don't listen to that kind of music but I'm sure it's rad. I tend to listen to old bands, but, uh, yeah. Can you please turn it down?" The guy examined my face.

"No."

And then he slammed the door in my face.

I blinked.

I stood at their door for what seemed like a very long time, blinking. Then, I heard his loud music playing and I realized he was actually being serious. Who wouldn't be? He slammed the door in my face!

I frowned.

He actually had the nerve to slam the door in my face.

"Why you—" I exclaimed, banging the door again and ringing the doorbell. I figured he was ignoring me but I wasn't going to stop right there. I continued banging and ringing until the music stopped and the door was forcefully swung open.

"What the hell do you want?"

Let us recap, shall we? I did not recall being rude to the stranger but he had already accomplished three things: (a). He talked to me in a rude manner (b). He slammed the door in my face and (c). He talked to me in a rude manner.

"Listen, here. I came knocking on your door to nicely ask you to turn down the music because you are so close to waking up the dead. So I did. But you slammed the door in my face and you have the decency to act annoyed when I knock on the door again? You slammed the door in my face, you turd! You know, my mother was wrong. Your mother is actually very nice, but you're far from it! Is that how you normally greet people? Yeah, well, you need to work on that. Now, turn down your music or I'll end up doing it myself!"

When I finished, I realized I had done a very big mistake. The guy ended up glaring at me, harder than Mrs. Walker when I lose my dog. This was all asking for my death wish.

I pursed my lips. "Please and thank you?" He continued to silently stare at me. I crossed my arms. "You know you're not very good at first impressions."

"And you are?" he calmly asked, leaning against the doorway, crossing his arms as well.

(I could sense it was a rhetorical question.)

"I'm not the one who slammed a door in someone's face. Unlike you, I had the decency to politely ask you to turn down that music," I retorted.

"And then you ended up insulting the fuck out of me," he sneered.

Oops.

I felt heat rush to my cheeks. "Um, well..."

"Is that all you wanted?" he asked, pushing himself off and gently placing his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah."

He closed the door.

But he didn't slam it.

When I got to my room, the music had been turned down, enough that it wouldn't annoy anyone but not enough that I wouldn't hear it. He had changed the song and I ended up taking a like to it. It was different than the first one and very catchy.

I sat down on the rolling chair I had in my room and continued reading my book. Somehow in the middle, I ended up lifting my head a little to look at the guy. He was now visible, at least a little. He was seated on his bed, strumming a guitar. Almost feeling as if he were being watched, he looked up, too, and stared at me.

I looked away.

(He was probably plotting my demise.)

At night, he had already closed his balcony doors and drew the curtains along with it. I did, too. I had spent the rest of the day reading and I went to bed pretty late. But, I couldn't sleep. I could picture my mother scolding me with her hands on her hips.

"You shouldn't have stayed up late watching a TV show and you shouldn't have slept in," she would have said. "I told you so."

I chuckled and got out of bed. The clock read 12:23 am. Groaning, I rubbed my eyes, knowing I would be tired tomorrow. I drew my curtains open and opened the balcony doors. Immediately, a cool breeze hit me and I felt good.

My hands gripped the railing and I hummed to a mellow song.

I stopped humming when I heard a door close. I saw a figure emerge. I squinted my eyes. It was, well, the guy. Honestly, I did not know what to call him. For me, I'd probably label him as the dude who slammed the door in my face. But, it was pretty long.

Shaking my head, I wrapped my arms around me. I watched the guy as he walked until he disappeared, and I wondered what guys like him did at midnight.