"Stella, could you come help me with this?" My mom called from downstairs, sounding as if she was struggling. I put down my pen against my maths book and made my way out of my room, heading towards the downstairs floor.
"What is it?"
"Just get down here!" She nearly shrieked, obviously impatient. I groaned and muttered curses under my breath, following her voice into the kitchen. She stood there with a huge basket of laundry, looking probably almost as big as her. "Could you take this from me? Put it in my room? I'm cooking and it's gonna burn if I don't get back to it." She explained, handing the basket over to me before I could object. It was much much heavier than it looked and I struggled to keep it balanced.
"Christ, what's in here?" I chuckled, my arms already aching. "A dead body?"
She smirked. "It'll be your dead body if you don't hurry up and get your ass up those stairs," Mom teased, checking the oven. She took the food out and placed the tray on the counter. "I'm cooking bacon. Want some?"
I shook my head, but I really did want that bacon. "No thanks." I smiled through my straining as I turned awkwardly to leave the room, the basket nearly weighing me down completely. Trekking up the stairs was a struggle, but I managed without complaint. I leant my shoulder against my mom's bedroom door and went inside, placing the basket on the white sheeted bed. I gazed around her large room, and how I wished it were mine. It was very bland, the theme being white and red. White sheets with red trim, white wallpaper, red curtains, white carpet, red rug... yet the walls were plain. No pictures, no photos, no proof that she had interests or a family. If this room were mine, I'd replace the reds with light blues, and I'd stick up magazine cutouts and hang pictures and paintings and photos of things I loved.
But alas, it wasn't my room. So I couldn't do that. There was no point complaining, so I got back on track.
I sighed, shutting off the lights and leaving, shutting her bedroom door behind me. I returned to my bedroom and slumped myself back down in my desk chair, reading over my math equations for the umpteenth time. None of it made any sense. If you don't pass the next test, he's gonna fail you.
I buried my forehead in my hands and growled aloud in boredom and frustration. "Oh my God, I don't get it." I muttered to myself, tapping my pen against the pages of my textbook. If x and then... no, wait, y, then... what the heck?
A loud, annoying tapping noise distracted me, and the noise wasn't coming from my pen. It came from the window. I looked towards the glass, out at the black sky and the moon and the stars that lit it all up. And then another, obnoxious crack hit my window. It was a rock, or a pebble or something. When Cassidy said she was sorry for being grounded, I didn't think she'd resort to tossing rocks at my window.
But then, a face popped up from my windowsill and grinned at me, scaring me half to death. I yelped in surprise and my shoulders jumped in shock. That's definitely not Cassidy.
"Oh my God!" I whisper yelled, nearing towards the glass.
It was the Joker, face full of paint and even a little bruised, pressed up creepily against my window. He tapped sarcastically against the glass with his index finger, like he was observing a fish tank, trying to get me to blubber in surprise. And I did, worrying about what I'd do with his company. Why was he here?
"Let me, uh, in, doll," Joker's voice muffled behind the glass as I desperately tried to reach for the handle. "It is pretty cold, y'know." He smirked, resting his forehead against the glass.
I stuck my tongue out against my top lip in concentration as I managed to get the window open, stepping aside for Joker to climb in. He groaned in struggle and even bumped his head, to which I sadistically chuckled.
