Hybrid

ONE

⫷ ARIA ⫸

"I love you more than I've ever loved anything else on this planet," I confess, not daring to break eye contact. "You're just so... cute and irresistible." I blow out a heavy sigh in defeat. "But you're going to have to move." He doesn't budge. "I mean it. Please? I'll give you food? You know, that fishy stuff you like."

Again, no movement. Honestly, this whole acting up thing is really getting on my nerves. Just as I'm about to move to step two, another voice from outside of my room speaks up. "Aria, are you talking to yourself again?" My mother calls to me.

"No!" I exclaim. I return my gaze on the fluffy bundle of joy laying on my comforter. I'm about to do laundry, but Kitty isn't letting me. "Come on, Kitty. Please?"

"Just move the cat if he's in your way," she suggests through my closed door. We're the type of family that screams across the house instead of, and just as easily, getting off of our lazy butts and confronting each other.

I arch my head so she can hear me better. "Then he'll hate me!"

She doesn't answer.

I plant my hands on my hips as I debate my options. Meowing loudly, Kitty pitter-patters off of the bed and scampers onto my floor. "Thanks." Before he changes his mind, I gather the blankets and sheets in my long awaiting arms.

The soft bundle of them threatens to tip me over, but I manage to tighten my grip and stabilize myself before creating too much damage. Just as I'm about to feel satisfied with my accomplishment, I remember that I left my bedroom door shut. Kitty reminds me by scratching impatiently on the wood.

I let out a grumble in annoyance. "Hey, mom?" I shout from inside my room. "Mom!"

"What?"

"Could you open my door?"

Instead of asking why I can't do it myself, I hear footsteps making their way to my room and my mother swiftly enters. She ambles away without a word. I barely catch a glance at her long, dark hair that sweeps behind her.

"Thanks!" I yell, muffled by the material in my face.

I wobble past the kitchen, smelling the four course meal my mother's probably cooking. She grew up in a very white family, but always tries extra hard to stick to her Italian roots. I'm not complaining.

I barely squeeze by the dining table and the fridge; my father constantly assures that there's enough room to get through. I beg to differ.

The staircase, beside the fridge, leads me down to the dark and murky basement. If it weren't for me and my friends using a Ouija board down here, I wouldn't be as terrified of it as I am now. After that night of terror, I vowed to stay away from those games forever.

Kitty, being the ever-loving little cutie, trails beside me. Due to my inability to give him the attention he so desires, he continues to meow at me. Honestly, I could pet that cat for twenty hours and, the moment I'm done, he'd go back to meowing and giving me that 'why-the-heck-did-you-stop' look. Yes, Kitty knows how to give that look.

The laundry machine is at the end of the hall in another room. I do a load, probably adding a little too much soap. Better safe than smelly.

Once I'm back upstairs in my room, I begin putting on new bedsheets. Smelling the freshness of them, a stupid smile creeps onto my face. I'm a sucker for clean smells.

I hear my mom whiz by my room. "I'm going to go pay some bills. Could you watch the food?"

"Where at?"