Sarah's Seashell

Chapter Two

I know. It's insane. This is actually an update! I got an onslaught of complaints, and I realized just how stupid I was being. Thank you, everyone who told me that they either loved this story, that I should keep it up, that it had potential, or that it would be dumb to remove it.-Ahem, Nerdy. You know who you are. Well, without any further ado... Voici.

I stared at the outlandishly small lot, and the acrid feeling of injustice began to boil in my stomach. No way would I be able to survive a stay in such an itty-bitty house with five other human beings. Actually, in my case, it was two other human beings, and three hypothetical aliens masquerading in the guise of siblings.

The house, as tiny as it was, would not be able to withstand the atomic temper tantrums Naia was prone to having.

A horrific vision of smoldering sideboards and burning roof tiles flashed across my Mind's Eye, and I shuddered. This was not going to be a good trip. I was going to die after being attacked by a plethora of angry crabs, get eaten by a shark, or perish from immense heatstroke. It didn't matter how you sliced it, I was going to die somehow. And if I somehow evaded imminent death, I would still burn to a crisp.

Unless, of course, I chose to be a martyr, and tie myself to the bed-post whilst refusing adamantly to go to the beach, no matter how many cute boys were playing volleyball in the sun. I didn't care, and truly just wanted to go home. If it got bad enough, I would have to walk back to our house. No, not that beach house, mind you, but the one I should have been spending my summer at.

My real house.

Mom nudged me, and jerked out of my reverie. Consequently, I dropped the luggage in my hands on top of my toe. There was a crunch, and I let out a frustrated sob, then scooped them up with resignation. I was tired, cold, and generally unhappy.

In a nutshell, this sucked!

"Honey," she sighed. Her hands went to her head, and Mom fidget with her cornsilk bun. "Do you need help?" "No!" I exclaimed, and fumbled for my bags.

"I hate you! Stop treating me like a baby!" Mom looked taken aback and bemused, then slightly lofty. "Well, that's one more person I'm not making pancakes for in the morning." Then she hoisted her things, and went inside as elegantly as a mother possibly can whilst flouncing away. Then just the moon and I were left. I frowned up at it, and said "At least you care enough to watch me, instead of just leaving me outside for all the crazy people that roam Cape May at night."

The moon didn't respond, but instead just listened carefully, and almost seemed to nod speculatively. It was as if it were saying "Just go inside." Moons are far sager than teenage girls, so I did as I was told.

. ~*~ .

Half an hour later, I was vegetating on the blue-green coverlet spread across my bed. My head rested on the pillow, and I was trying to block out Naia's caterwauling. She was a fan of the boy bands, that girl. Not to say I don't appreciate talented, and-- ahem-- very cute boys, but I certainly didn't appreciate the decimation of a nice song.

Naia was a particular fan of "I Wish," by One Direction. She had an awful case of the noted One Direction Infection, and the symptoms (excessive screaming, crying, and bad singing) were beginning to affect everyone in our family. I raised my head, and blearily turned my eyes towards her.

"If you don't turn that off, I will individually destroy you and your iPod."

She either ignored me, or her music was turned up too loud. Either way, my comment escaped her notice. Naia continued to carry out cruel torture in the form of breathy, off-tune warbling. I clenched my fists, and dug my fingernails into my palms. Red crescent moons bloomed where my nails bit into my hands, but I just dug deeper, and turned my eyes to the ceiling as if salvation would magically fall from it.

She quieted down for a couple seconds, and I released my fingers gratefully, then flopped onto my pillow. All of a sudden, the wailing started anew. It was a cross between dying cats, and a car screeching to a halt.

I let out a great "AAAAAARGH!" and whipped the pillow from beneath my head, then promptly hurled it at Naia's head.

She immediately sat bolt upright. "What, stupid? What do you want? Can't I do anything in peace?"

I bit back a bitter chuckle born out of irony. "Sorry... It's just... Can't you shut up?"

Daggers were immediately shot in my direction. "No. I like this song. And I am going to sing."

"Your voice is flat," I retorted.

"Like you can sing any better!" Naia whipped out. She slid her earphones back over her head and crossed her arms. Everything around her radiated discontent and obstinence. Her hair fell over her pillow, darkened by the shadows that had snuck beneath the bedroom door.

I went pulled my green-and-blue coverlet over my body. The hem of it crept up to my ears, but... No dice.

Naia had officially gone banshee, and her terrible singing ripped right through the cottony shelter of my comforter. It was shredding my hearing to teeny-tiny pieces. In hopes of muffling the wailing, I pulled my frizzy hair over my face, and stuffed it into the canal of my ear.

It deadened the sound somewhat, but then I realized that my neck was at an awkward angle. I fumbled around for my pillow, but came up empty.

Right.

I threw it at Naia.

I was too proud to take it back, but there was no way I could sleep without it.

It was going to be a long night.