The Second Author

Chapter Seven (revised)

It's four in the morning and I need get up in two hours for school. But after what happened, there's no way I'm going to bed. The only thing lighting my room is the moon, as I rise to my feet. I walk to the bedroom door and open it.

I peek down the hall. My parents' door is closed, meaning they're both asleep. I step out into the hall and close my door behind me. The hallway is so dark I can't see the letters on the door when I look at Taylor's room.

I don't know. Maybe it's too soon to go back in there. I hear that familiar screech, as I second guess myself. Without really thinking about it, I put my hand on the knob and slowly turn it. The first step I take into her room is extra big, avoiding the squeaky floorboard under the carpet.

The room is almost pitch black. I close the door as quietly as I can. Once it's closed, the reality that I'm in my sister's room and she isn't, almost scares me. It's almost like I'm doing something wrong by being in here uninvited. Plus, if my mother found out...

I shake the thought from my head, ignoring all the doubt. I reach my hand up, feeling my way to the flashlight Taylor always kept on top of her bookcase, next to the door. I grab it and flip the switch.

The light flickers on, as I point the beam at the ground. The less I see of Taylor's room right now, the better. I keep my eyes down too, making sure I don't see anything I don't want to. I hear the screech again, and again, and again.

I hurry to the back of the room and squat in front of Sparkles' cage. I've never been a fan of guinea pigs, but this one's kind of grown on me. Sparkles waddles over to me at the door of the cage, not taking his eyes off me.

Dad bought Sparkles as a family pet when Taylor was three. He was only a few weeks old. Taylor fell in love with him from day one. I've never been too attached to him, and I think he feels the same about me. To me, he's a guinea pig. And to him, I'm a human. That's as far as our relationship goes.

I was perfectly fine when he officially became Taylor's. We started off keeping him in the averaged sized guinea pig cage. But Taylor thought he needed more room than that. Now, a third of her room is a homemade guinea pig cage. He even has a small pool in the corner. This is the most spoiled guinea pig on the planet.

I open the cage door, forming a ramp. I've learned that he only screams like that when Taylor's forgotten to give him his dinner. My guess is that he hasn't had any leafy greens since she died.

Sparkles puts his hands on the mouth of the door, sticking his head out in search of food.

"Okay," I sigh. "Come on." I reach in the cage and grab him. It's almost a two-handed job, but I manage. His legs started kicking in the air. I pressed him against my stomach and then pulled the hem of my shirt over him, creating a hammock.

I stood and then headed for the door. I quietly opened the door, sure to avoid the squeaky board. I shut the door behind me and walk down the hall to the stairs. I inched my way past my parents' door and then bolted down the stairs.

I turned the flashlight off when I reached the bottom. I know the rest by memory. I head for the kitchen. I stop at the entrance and plop Sparkles on the island countertop, then continue walking to the fridge. I pull out a bag of salad and examine it. There's only about half a cup at the bottom.

I close the fridge and walk up to Sparkles, opening the bag. He starts screeching again. I open the bag as far as it will go and lay it on the counter, about six inches away from him.

He turns toward it and then jumps into the bag. The bag slid a few inches before stopping, and not a second later, I could hear him chewing. I rolled my eyes.