Well, watching Briana Bodenhigger didn't go quite exactly as planned.
But, even if I'm not her mother's favorite... Bri did claim me to be her new favorite babysitter, so I must have done something right.
Either way, though, the sudden Wisconsin blizzard raged on through the night and, miraculously, god must have chosen to answer the prayers of every young person in every square mile of Talket County the very next Monday morning.
Because school had been cancelled for the day.
And, yes, I'll admit I slapped my mattress and screeched a tad too loudly in joy when I checked my messages about forty seconds after my alarm went off and stumbled upon the glorious text message from the local weather channel: All schools in the Talket County School System are closed for the entirety of Monday the 27th of March, 2017, causing my father to, once again, burst into my room with his favorite baseball bat once he had heard my screams.
I had to calm him down, though; he's been a little on-edge since he found out about how the whole school thing with Grayson, a boy who he assumed was safe enough for me to hang around with every other weekend, but sort of kind of wasn't who either of us thought he was, had gone down. Which, actually, is also why I decided to not inform him of any of the other incidents that have chosen to befall me the past few weeks beside that one; I'm kind of afraid he'll physically go into cardiac arrest.
Well, except for the thing with the crazy lady that kept calling me Erica... because he actually had to pick Stella and me up from the police station that afternoon. And he didn't come back from that one very easily, either.
Anyway, after I realized that I had the whole day to myself with absolutely nothing in the world to care about... I decided it was a good time to watch some good ol' fashioned TV marathons of classic sitcoms and eat nothing but blue frosting graham cracker sandwiches all the live long day.
And that's just what I did.
Until my dad left for an unexpected night shift at his place of business at 7 p.m. and I decided that, after hours upon hours of lounging on the sofa in my llama pajamas and... no underwear... I really needed a shower.
And that's where this particular story begins.
With me, naked, under the steaming hot water of the house's only shower head, belting out the classic theme song of That 70s Show.
"Hanging out!" I shouted, closing my eyes and wetting my medium brown hair under the pelting water drops. "Down the street!"
I spun around and stepped back so the water wasn't splashing my eyelids as I opened them.
"The same old thing!" I yelled, right before I purposely threw a handful of water over my face. "We did last week!"
I turned back to the front of the shower, now allowing the steam to hit my back yet again.
"And not a thing to do..." I paused to snatch up my super-sized white conditioner bottle from the shelf ahead, and then yanked it inward, making sure it was perfectly positioned under my chin as I held the index finger of my free hand up to my ear, all for that special added effect. "But talk to you!"
I slapped the side of the bottle and spun around once more.
"We're all alright!" I went on, waving the conditioner in and out of the water as I did so. "We're all alright!"
I grabbed the bottle with both hands and held it up to my chin, again.
"Da-da-da-da-da-da-da!" I sang, and then threw my head back to finish. "Hello Wisconsin!"
I brought my head back to center and chuckled a tad as I turned around and set my conditioner bottle down.
And then I swore I heard some sort of light tapping sound come from the hallway outside.
I immediately froze and attempted to listen for more... but no other noise came.
Still, though, I pulled the shower curtain back the slightest bit, and then poked my eyes out from behind it to scan the bathroom as well as what I could see of the dim hall outside (since I was home alone, after all, and had figured it was pretty safe to leave the door open). However, I saw nothing, so I returned to my hygienic duties.
Right when I leaned my back against the fall of roaring water, though, I heard another soft tap from outside.
"Okay, really," I muttered out, now reaching for the edge of the curtain once more. I paused before opening it again, though, because I heard another strange sound follow the last two.
"Emma..." some low, moaning-sort-of voice mumbled out from a bit far away.
I froze up, my hand still on the plastic curtain.
"Gr—Grandma?" I grumbled out, only now beginning to turn toward where my hand rested.
And, FYI, my grandmother passed away ten years ago.
"Emma..." the voice repeated, though closer this time.
I heard no footsteps accompany this voice, though I suppose the sound of the rushing water from the shower head beside me could have drowned out them out, but I assumed there were none and that the voice had to be coming from some odd, unknown force.
I paused another moment with my hand still stuck to the curtain, and I couldn't bring myself to pull it back to peer outside again.
But, I guess I didn't have to, because, about five seconds later, it whipped completely back and open in front of me.
I screamed and turned to snatch up my jumbo conditioner bottle once more in such a hurry that I then slipped on the slick shower floor and fell right on my frontside, bringing down all my soap bottles and cans from the same shelf with me.
"Emma..." the voice said yet again, now much, much closer to me.
I snapped my head up to the side of the shower curtain and saw none other than Stella Anderson standing in the opening set before me.
"Stella!" I screeched out.
"Emma, is that you?" she questioned, staring at my bare backside.
"Yes, Stella!" I shouted. "What the hell are you doing!"
"Yay!" she screeched, throwing her hands out to her sides. "I found you!"
She then spun herself around, though she jabbed her side into the corner of the bathroom counter nearby before she could manage the whole three-sixty.
"Ow!" she yelled, afterward stumbling back and grabbing at her abdomen before she plopped down to the ground on her bottom.
"Ow!" she repeated in the moment that her butt slapped the bathroom tile, and then closed her eyes tightly and leaned forward until her forehead touched the floor between her loose Victoria's Secret jogger-covered legs.
I took her moment of wincing to jump up and snatch up the nearest towel to wrap around myself. As soon as I covered myself and stepped out of the shower, though, her head popped right back up.
"Oh..." she began, her eyes suddenly widening up at me. "M... G!"
She shot back up to her feet and waddled her UGG-protected toes up to me, a mere two inches or so away.
"Emma..." she whispered, and then looked me over as she, oddly enough, stroked a hand over the side of my dirty old blue towel. "I love this new dress..." She whipped her eyes back up to mine. "Where did you even get it?"
I held in a chuckle.
"Stella," I began back. "You're... kidding, right?"
She kept her eyes locked onto mine.
"No," she answered.
I glanced down at where her hand still patted my side, and then pushed it away.
"Stella, I think—"
"Oh my god," she cut me off. "Emma, is that a beach house!"
I gazed back up at her right as she jumped past my side, and then turned to see her try to jump over the edge of the shower/tub behind me, trip, and then face-plant into the bottom, her legs rolling over her head as the water continued to rain down on top of her.
"Oh, boy," I muttered, and then stepped over to the edge to shut the shower water off.
"The tide is high!" she yelled out, crawling herself back up to her knees in the bottom of the tub. She threw her head back and looked up at me before continuing. "But I'm holdin' on!"
She then collapsed into a fit of giggles as I reached out to grab her arm and yank her out of the tub.
"I'm gonna be Emma's number one!" she went on to just hilariously sing as she stumbled onto the floor.
I had to pull her back from another fall before she stood back up, somewhat steadily, in front of me, still heartily laughing and all.
"Stella," I began, knotting the top of my towel around my chest before I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to face me. Once she ceased her laughter, then, I pierced my eyes into hers and went on. "You're drunk."
She raised her eyebrows and dropped her jaw a bit.
"Wh—What?" she questioned.
"Or high," I continued. "I'm not exactly sure which because I'm not a drug expert or psychoanalyst or anything, but... if I had to put my money on it... I'd say you mistook your mom's special cocktail stash for the green tea K-cups in the family coffee maker."
"But, Emma," Stella started, shaking her head. "I don't even like coffee."
"Yeah, well," I said, before I trailed off for a moment. "Here, come with me."
I turned to the door and made my way out to the hall.
"Oo," she began, right before chasing after me. "Are we gonna watch Mrs. Doubtfire?"
I didn't even reply or look back; I just forged on to my room at the end of the corridor.
"Or Jurassic Park?" she asked, her pounding footsteps following close behind me. "Or maybe Gho—"
And then she slid down and tumbled her face onto the hardwood floor, again, right next to my feet. I paused in my doorway to look down at the back of her blonde-haired head for a second, and then just went on inside.
"Why do I keep doing that?" her voice muffled out, right before she pulled herself back up. "I don't even like falling!"
I stopped by the edge of my mint green-sheeted bed and turned back to her, raising my brows.
"Oo, Emma," Stella went on, now preoccupied with intriguingly scanning the small cramped area around us that was my bedroom. "Is this your brother's room?"
I crossed my arms over the loosening towel at my chest and turned to follow her as she stepped over to my sloppy white wooden dresser, clothes hanging out of each inch of its drawers.
"I don't have a brother," I grumbled behind her back. "Or a sister, actually, at least... I don't think so. Just me and my lonesome old father... and a dead dog buried in the backyard. A few neighborhood rats, too, I guess... and the termites in the walls."
Stella suddenly spun around and held a small, rubberized lizard keychain out between us, forcing me to step back a tad.
She stared at me for a few moments, and then squeezed the mini toy's sides, making a long red rubber tongue roll out of its mouth and tap me on my nose.
I moved my eyes from her to the keychain.
And then she keeled over in a fit of laughs.
"Oh my god!" she shouted, physically collapsing to her knees. "Emmet, you're so funny!"
She proceeded to roll over to her back and toss the toy across the room, hitting and knocking over a glass vase on my bedside stand.
"Ugh, Stella," I grouched as I rushed over to save it from rolling onto the floor.
I heard her gasp as I set it back in place.
"Oh... M... G..." she began, now scampering up to my side. "You have a hamster!"
She reached out to snatch up the broken black alarm clock box that sat beside the empty vase.
"He's so cute..." she commented.
However, before she could completely pick it up, I seized it right back and slammed it back down.
"Okay, Stella," I started, grabbing her upper arm and swinging her around to sit on the bed's edge behind me. "Why are you here?"
I took a step back and tightened the towel around my body.
She paused for a moment, sighed, and then glanced up at me as she brought her legs up to cross underneath herself.
"There's this, like, guy... waiting for me, I guess," she stated.
"A guy?" I questioned, leaning inward to her. "What guy?"
"Coo-wl yer radishes, Emma," Stella half-slurred out. "I'm gettin' to it..."
I watched as she rocked onto her back, and then pulled herself up once again.
"Emma, listen..." she went on, rolling her eyes back and forth as she spoke. "He's gonna make me..." She stopped to throw her hands out to her sides, her fingers outspread. "A supermodel!"
She closed her eyes and forced a weak grin; I paused for a moment and studied her slowly.
"Really..." I began. "Are you..." I tilted my head to one side. "Sure about... that?"
Stella shot her eyes opened and forcibly nodded.
"Uh, yeah, Emma," she huffed. "I'm gonna get, like... head and ass shots and everything." She rubbed her one eye, smearing eyeliner and mascara down her cheek at the same time. "I'm very professional."
"Oh, yeah?" I asked, leaning on my left hip. "And do you get a refund, too, if those ass shots don't exactly work out for you? I mean, I know your dad's got money in the bank and all, but..."
"Whoa, whhh-oa there," Stella butted in, throwing her head back on her neck and her hands up in 'stop' gestures. "Emma..." She glanced at me once more, her hands frozen in place. "I am fr-eeeee-aking Stell-uhhhhh An-drew-son..." She transitioned to aiming her pointer fingers at her lap. "And if you don't think this here lil' tuchus can break a rat's back, then..." She trailed off for a long moment, staring blankly at the wall behind me. After a good amount of glaring at her obviously distracted and disoriented expression, I decided to open my mouth to speak, myself, but, just then, she turned back to me and finished what she had started. "You cl-eaaaaaaa-rly aren't my best friend, Emma."
I nodded with my mouth still half-opened.
"Okay, a few things there, actually..." I began, shifting in place a bit. "One, your name is Stella Anderson, not Andrewson... second, I don't know what the hell that analogy is supposed to prove for your 'little tuchus'... and third... I think there's actually quite a few things that support the belief that I am not, in fact, your BFF." I paused. "So, um—"
Stella shot out a gasp and jumped up to a stand from the bed's edge, though she almost immediately lost her balance and tripped to her right, tumbling down to the floor below... yet again.
"Oops," she giggled out. "I did it again!"
I returned my arms to a cross and looked from her to the wall across the room with a slight eye roll.
"Hey, Emma," she continued to chuckle, now pulling herself to her knees by my feet. " 'Member that?" She stopped to force a half-cough, half-laugh for a moment. "That was so-oooo fun!"
I raised my eyebrows as she stumbled up to her feet.
"Yeah, I guess," I replied. "If you think being the kidnapped subjects of a mentally unstable ninety-year-old woman for one dreary afternoon is a holler and a half, then okay... but I don't think that's really much my speed, exactly, so no need to hoot and holler at me."
She continued to laugh.
"Oh, I love you, Emm-ie..." she stated, and then turned to plop face-down on top on the bed once more, her whole body outspread across it this time.
"Oh, and so..." she went on, rolling over to crane her neck toward me. "You can thank me now, please."
I glared at her.
"For what?" I questioned.
"Because," she began, right before she threw one arm up over her head. "I got you a modeling package, too!"
I narrowed my brows.
"Um..." I muttered. "I'm sorry; what?"
"I mean," she continued, and then pulled herself back up to her knees atop the bed sheets. "I know you don't exactly have the nicest fashion sense..." She held one hand out, palm-up. "Or the greatest ass features, like me..." She flipped over her other hand in a similar manner. "Or the best..." She trailed off in, I guess, deep thought like she had once before, before going on. "Anything..." She came down from her knees to sit cross-legged yet again. "But, Emma, you have what the profession calls a certain... okay-ish hairstyle and... decent nose..." She paused and stared me down for a second. "Well, after some minor plastic work, that is... and, honestly, some cheek fillers wouldn't hurt, either, or—"
I stopped her right there.
"Stella," I snapped, moving my hands into halt gestures. "You can stop now, okay, because..."
I trailed off as Stella leaned back a bit.
"But," she started, quietly. "I was talking about butt cheek... fillers..."
I rolled my eyes, again, and twisted away from her for a break of a moment.
"Okay, Stella, listen..." I began, calmly enough, before I glanced back toward her. "You can not go getting any..." I paused to hold one hand of air quotes up to her. " 'Modeling packages' from just any random guy you meet on the street... I mean, it was just this random guy telling you about all this junk, right? And... how did you meet him, exactly, anyhow?"
Stella flipped her hair over her face, and then blew a few of her long blonde strands up into suspension over her nose for a second, and then giggled as she fell back on her back, and then brushed them out of the way as she sat back up with a completely emotionless face.
"Okay, Emma, listen," she began back, dead-panned. "He's not just some random guy... I met him at the mall earlier this afternoon, and he's actually really cool, okay?" She nodded and looked away. "Yeah."
"But," I replied. "Wasn't the mall kind of, uh, closed today? With the blizzard and everything? And, actually, even if it weren't... why would you want to drive all the way there and back through all the snow and icy roads?"
"Emma," Stella countered, glaring back at me with an index finger upheld. "I said listen..." She stopped for an excessively long moment to clear her throat about seven and a half times. "There's never a bad time to visit the Luis Vuitton store."
I stopped her, again.
"There's no Luis Vuitton shop for at least 300 miles from this town," I said.
"Emma!" she screeched. "I said listen!"
I threw one hand up in defense and raised my eyebrows, then allowed her to continue with her story.
"Now, I ran into him in the parking lot... I think..." She trailed off for a moment. "I don't actually remember that part, I guess, but I do remember him giving me these, like, special little Pez candies! He said he makes them himself because they're hard to find or something, I guess, but, like, they're always at the check-out lines in Walmart, so... maybe he just goes to Target or something... Anyway, he gave me a few, and they were rea-lllll-y, rrrrrr-ea-llllllllllll-y, rrrrrrrrrrrrrr-eeeeeee-aaaaa-llllll-yyyyyyyyy g-oooooooooo-d!"
I widened my eyes at her sudden enthusiasm.
"They, uh, were... were they?" I mumbled out.
Stella stared at me for an uncomfortably long moment.
"They, uh, yeah!" she mocked me. "Damn, Emma, haven't you ever had a Pez before? You know... the little things that look like pills but come out of a Mickey Mouse dispenser? Only..." She stopped for a second. "These just came out of a little sandwich baggie..." Her eyes lit up once more. "That's probably why they're so good!"
"Oh, no..." I muttered.
She giggled loudly and threw her head back for a long period of time before returning her eyes to me to go on.
"I wanted more of them, but he said you can only have so many at a time or you'll get, like, high blood sugar or something. Or just high." She paused, and then laughed, again. "I'm just kidding!"
"I'm sure you are..." I whispered, and then stepped up to her side of the bed. "Here, Stella, why don't you just... lay down for a bit..."
I reached my hands out to touch her shoulders.
"But, Emma," she rejected, pushing me away already. "He's waiting for us... outside!"
I stepped back and paused.
"He... He's outside... here?" I interrogated.
"Well," Stella rolled her eyes. "Duh."
"You brought him here?" I reiterated.
Stella nodded.
"Oh, great," I mumbled, and then spun around.
"How else are we both gonna become supermodels, Emma, huh!" Stella shouted at my backside.
I rushed forward to my dresser ahead and yanked the top drawer of it open.
"Shut up, Stella!" I yelled back.
I proceeded to rip a plain black bra and a pair of devil red undies that read 'can't touch this' on the back out, then slammed the drawer shut once more. Though, before I could proceed to the next one, Stella screamed at me yet again.
"Emma!"
I threw the garments to the floor, grabbed the top of my towel, and whipped myself around.
"What!" I half-screeched, half-grumbled.
Stella leapt from the bed and pointed at my head.
"There's a spider in your hair!" she screamed.
Instinctively, I let out a frightful yelp in reply and threw my hands up to grab at the damp wad of dark hair atop my scalp, dropping my dirty towel in the process, though I didn't care much about it right away and continued to rustle through my brown locks as violently as I could.
"Get it out!" I screeched.
Just then, however, Stella let out a rumbling chuckle, rushed forward, slapped her hand at my bare bottom, and then turned to sprint out to the hallway.
"Got'cha!" she shouted as she left the room.
I threw my head back up to center.
"Ugh!" I roared at her. "Stella!"
I turned my naked figure to watch her disappear down the hall to some other part of the house, the only trace of her left behind being her ridiculously annoying giggles forever etched in my ear drums.
After that, though, I turned and knelt down to snatch up my under garments once more, then began to put them on over my burning red skin.
"Emma!" I heard Stella shout from across the house. "I think he wants to come in now!"
I finished slipping both clothing pieces on, and then shot my head back to the hall.
"Do not let him in!" I shouted back.
I fell quiet to listen for her response, and then cursed to myself when I heard her stupid laugh once again.
"Damn it," I muttered, now rushing out of my room and into the corridor to the living area. "Stella!"
I ran through the den and the dining room to get to the front door area, continuing to shout at her the entire time.
"Don't let that creep in, Stella, or I swear to god!"
And then, once I reached the front room, I slid to a stop to witness Stella as she shut the door behind a tall skinny man with a Chicago Cubs cap and dark olive skin.
I froze as he turned to see me, fresh from the shower in my bra and panties.
"Oh, is this your friend, Miss Anderson?" he asked politely with a nod toward me.
"Oh, Emma!" Stella screeched, spreading her purple sweater-ed arms out as she ran over to me.
"This is her!" she giggled out as she wrapped me, sort of thankfully, into a close, tight hug.
"Why, hello, Miss..." he began, pausing and leaning forward afterward, probably expecting me to finish for him or something.
"Emma!" Stella yelled back to him, releasing me from her grip and stepping to my right side.
The man leaned back and slid his hands into his puffy black coat pockets.
"Oh, Emma," he smiled, eerily. "Nice to meet you."
I immediately grabbed Stella's arm and yanked her back over to me, then tossed her in front of myself and gave her a tight squeeze of a hug from behind with my arms around her shoulders; I could maybe mention that she continued to giggle the whole time.
"Yup," I started, throwing my head over one shoulder as I used her to shield my partially bare body. "Emma and Stella... it has a nice ring to it, kind of; it would make a good book or something someday." I then let out a forced, heavy chuckle of my own. "But, um, anyway... we really need to, uh—"
And, before I could even finish, the man stepped forward and leaned inward yet again.
"Would you like some candy, Emma?" he asked.
I raised my eyebrows, unconsciously, then shook my head.
"No, thank you, actually, I..." I responded. "I'm not seven years old, and I kind of... need to watch my calories."
He leaned back and smiled, again.
"Oh, I can tell that," he stated.
I don't think my eyebrows could have raised any higher.
"Um," I picked back up. "As I was saying, though, Stella and I need to... go grab our makeup and stuff."
Stella let out a small gasp and butted in.
"Can we go to Sephora instead?" she asked, not once looking back at me.
I jerked my hands tighter around her neck area.
"No, Stella," I jumped in to say before the man could speak. "Sephora is closed right now... and so is every other store in the county, actually, so—"
"Actually, I have plenty of makeup for you girls to use at my place," he cut me short.
"Oo!" Stella cooed, attempting now to step forward, out of my clutches. I quickly pulled her back in, however, and countered his offer.
"Actually," I began. "I have really sensitive skin, and I need to use my special foundation, so I should probably go get that."
Stella tried to step away from me, again.
"Well," she added on, now trying to brush my hands away from her shoulders. "I'll wait for you out in the car, then, Emma."
I grabbed at her collar bone once more and kept her from walking away.
"But, Stella," I spat out. "You hid it from me as a joke, remember?" I forged another small laugh and began to spin her around to face me for once. "Oh, yeah, it's so funny, but, uh... I don't know where you put it, Stella."
Stella stood, forced to stare at me as I held her shoulders still, and then scrunched up her face again.
"Oh my god!" she shouted, and then slapped my hands completely away. "I didn't take any of your shit, Emma!" She took a step back, shook her head, and then abruptly dropped her voice and began to sniffle. "Why would you even say something like that?"
I paused for a moment and watched as she brushed a sudden but genuine tear away from underneath one eye.
"Because... you..." I started to reply while she sniffed some more. "You didn't take it, exactly, you just... hid it... in my room somewhere, I think, and I'm sorry if I was mistaken, but I need to find it either way, so..." I stopped and reached out to gently grab at one of her dangling wrists. "If you could... just... come with me..."
"No!" she shrieked, throwing my hand back at me. "You don't trust me, Emma! And you... you..."
Her whines turned into soft cries as she threw her head into her hands.
"Sh," the man piped up from behind, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder; he afterward glanced up at me. "I think it's time for Miss Anderson to get some rest..."
He turned toward the door and spun her around.
"Wait," I blurted out, jumping up to her backside as he began to creak the door open, revealing the very windy, cold darkness to us all. "St