The Girl Who Wore Jordans

Chapter One

Chapter One

New York. August 21, 2012.

      “Elizabeth!” my mom called from somewhere inside the house.

      “Yeah?” I yelled from the front room, where I had been hiding all day.

      “Can you please go see how the painters are doing?” she screamed back.

      “Sure!” I replied, lazily dragging myself up, and walking down a hallway, only to remember that they were painting the basement. I went back through the hall, and down some stairs, until I reached the elusive dungeon of the house.

      The painters were busy at work, trying to hide the hideous green color that the previous owner of the house had had no taste in putting on the walls. It looked to be about half way done. The vibrant color was slowly fading away, and being replaced with a mellow cream color that better suited the room.

      “Do you guys need anything?” I asked, somewhat apprehensive of the strange workmen.

      “Nah, we’re fine. Thanks though, doll!” one of them said, as he continued to roll the brush across the wall.

      “Okay,” I said, turning away, and quickly running back up the stairs. I reached the main level of the house, and decided to start unpacking things in my room. I passed through the hall once again, and came to a white door at the very end. Turning the doorknob, I then entered the room.

      It was close to empty, and looked like the middle of Antarctica. White walls were stripped of all personality, lacking the homey touch of a poster or two. The barren floor had only a bed, dresser, desk, and countless boxes assembled on it. I felt sad, standing in the middle of the vacant room, only surrounded by brown cardboard cubes and the few pieces of furniture that I had brought from my previous life. It was depressing.

      I approached one of the boxes, and pulled off the tape that had sealed it, opening it. Within the box lay trophies. I closed the box back up again, and went over to the desk. I picked up a sharpie that had been lying across the top, and brought it over to the box. After taking off the cap, I messily scribbled, “DO NOT OPEN!” on it. I didn’t need to relive those days. Well, not yet at least.

      “Elizabeth!” my mom shouted once again.

      “What?” I cried back, groaning inwardly.

      “There’s someone at the door! Can you go get it?”

      “Yeah!” I said, unenthusiastically leaving my new room, and making the dull journey down the long hallway for what felt like the billionth time. I went down a few steps, so that I was at the landing, and trustingly opened the door, hoping that a rapist or murderer wasn’t on the other side.

      “Hi,” greeted a boy who looked about my age, smiling brightly at me.

      “Hey,” I said, looking him over.

      He was gorgeous to say the least. He had hair the color of coffee that looked as if it had been recently combed, and warm hazel eyes that were tinted green. His height amounted to about 5’10”, so stood a good two inches taller than me. As if a memory of the hours of sunlight the summer possessed, his skin was a dark tan color. His body looked to be well toned, leading me to the conclusion that he preformed some sort of physical activity. He had on a simple blue polo shirt and jeans, also giving me the impression that he cared enough about his appearance to make some effort.

      “I’m Eric,” he said, as I noticed his eyes were too giving me a once-over, “Eric Wilson.”

      And, of course, I happened to look like crap. My hair was tied back, and I was wearing the only things that I hadn’t packed away: a pair of black, mesh shorts, my “Yankees Suck!” T-shirt (something that could legitimately get me shot around here), and an old pair of Air Jordans. Well, this certainly sucked. When a hot guy came knocking on my door, I obviously had to be dressed like a dude. Yeah, fate truly loved me. Note the subtle use of sarcasm.