A/N: The picture is what I imagine Melody Pinerod to look like throughout the entire series. Partway through Book One I will have a picture of an animation of what (Okay, most of them aren't what I imagine, but they are the closest I could find. Don't hate me!) I imagine to be Renee, Jessica, Rebecca, Derick, Joe, and Mathew. In Book Two I will have a picture of what I imagine to be Chris Whiteman to look like throughout the entire series. Partway through Book Two, I will try to find photos closest to the other characters, but this won't be easy. I'll let you know what characters I have in the start of Book Two. So without further to do, enjoy! (Don't forget to vote and comment!)
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The door slowly creaks open as Chris enters the hallway. His hair was dripping, straight against the side of his gorgeous face and even though the lights were florescent, shining with beauty. I could hear the crashing of thunder through the screen door. I could smell the revolting smell of soaked worms just out for the early morning rain. I never liked worms. Especially their stench.
"Hey, Melody, you up yet?" Chris spoke, shutting the door slowly behind him, yet it still shook the house when it closed. "Sorry,"
I groaned and rolled over in my bed.
"If you don't get up, I'll drag you out of bed." That was his lame attempt to get me down the stairs.
"Fine, then come up here!" Just as I said that, I realized that I jumped in bed last night, still wet from my shower, with only my towel tightly wrapped around me. "On second thought, hold on a second."
Although I was on the second floor, I could still hear him laugh at my response.
I rolled my eyes as I pulled back the covers, swinging my legs around. "And not for the reason you think!" I screamed down.
"Sure Melody, what ever you say!"
I should have known better to focus on myself than on him, since when I stood up, I ended up face down on the floor, sending a loud crash through the floors. I groaned in pain.
"Melody, are you okay?" I didn't respond. I couldn't feel my face. He paused for a moment, then shouted up to me. "I'm coming up!"
If I could, I would have screamed in objection, but again, my face was still completely numb.
I heard his heavy foot falls marching up the stairs, and trust me, with my face flat against the floor, I could hear them just fine.
As he approached the top of the stairs, I could tell he saw into my room since the foot falls became immensely slower.
"Wow Melody, is this the ninth time this month I've found you face flat on the floor in your towel? You'd think by now you'd know better." he laughed, leisurely walking towards me.
I could tell my face was beginning to cool down since right after that comment I protested, "Well then, we can't all be perfect, can we?"
He paused, then began singing, "Nobodies perfect! You get-"
"Oh, first Rebecca Black's Friday now Hanna Montanna's Nobodies Perfect?" I rolled my eyes as he picked me up by my waist.
"Yup! Just wait till you hear what I've got planned for tomorrow!" he laughed
Then came the awkward silence. I was in my room, in an orange towel, staring at Chris's beautiful eyes. He was standing in front of me, his eyes focused on mine. I could still tell the storm hadn't let up since the faint noise of the rain Pitter Pattering on my roof hadn't let up, but at that moment, it seemed like everything outside had just, disappeared.
Just as I realized what Chris was doing, I almost smiled like the Cheshire Cat, but I didn't. I was sure I was blushing, though.
His fingertips danced around my hand in his attempt to hold it, even though he knew it was wrong. He had a slight problem of hiding his emotions.
Like one time, in Mr. Holly's class, this is back when we still had taco time in the ninth grade - Yeah, that's right, our school mascot is a giant taco and we are known as the Spicy Enchiladas or the Barbaric Burrito's - Mr. Holly was going on and on about how dirty the teacher's lounge bathroom is and Chris couldn't take it and screamed out, "Well, tough nuts, nub! At least you have a f-" at that point I thumped him hard on the head. He did that unconsciously, of course, but I could understand his agony.
That summer, his dad got horribly drunk and took a beer bottle and then threw it at Chris' mother. She fell over, bits of broken glass sticking out of her forehead, hands, and arms, the blood spitting out of the now open wounds, literally. Chris called 911, but by then, it was too late for his mother. His dad jumped on her, punched her jaw off, shoved a hot dog down her throat then took another beer bottle shard and repeatedly stabbed her heart. Then, he finished the job by giving her body a newly severed head.
Conveniently, the cops arrived just after that. His dad spun around, a beer bottle in his hand. When the cops noticed Chris, -which I blame the cops for this- so did his dad, and he chucked the bottle at Chris's head. Chris ducked just in time, but sadly, that was only the beginning.
Chris' dad began stumbling over to his son, zombie like, with an evil grin on his face, but before he could get to Chris -or the cops could run up and stop his dad- Chris' rottweiler, Mask, leaped on his dad, ripped his head apart, then frankly, the rest is too disturbing to even mention. The first cop must have just started his job since he seemed in shock the whole time. Th other one was struggling to calm the situation, encourage Chris that everything would be okay, and help his new assistant. But ever since that day, Chris is now terrified of hot dogs, beer bottles, and wood chippers.
But then I remembered that when my parents were murdered, I didn't lash out at the teachers.
It was Christmas Eve and I was sleeping in my bed. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the opening of our front door. I quickly jumped out of bed, and thankfully at this point in my life, I had stealth and balance to spare. I tiptoed to my door in my pink duck pajamas and walrus slippers. I creaked open my door just enough for me to see a sight most disturbing.
A black man in ripped, muddy grey jeans, a black T-shirt, heavy brown jacket, dirty grey hat, a tattoo on his arm saying, Those who disobey will pay, each letter written in black, blood dripping down, and a handful of rope and a large role of duck tape creeping up the stairs with a most evil grimace, chattering out, "Here, kitty kitty. Daddy wants to play!"
At that moment, I remembered Julie. Julie is my calico cat and she's been with me for as long as I can remember. She, like me, had deep green eyes, and at this time, she was happily sleeping at the foot of my bed. She's my most prized possession.
The intruder finally made his way up the stairs, and just as he was about to turn his head towards me, my parents door creaked open, and my mom, carrying a bundle of presents, stepped out.
It took her a while to look up, but just as she saw the intruder, he ran up to her and punched her in the gut. She gave out a faint moan, dropping the presents around her. As he pulled back his hand, I noticed the switch blade covered in blood. My mother fell to the ground, her wound making a puddle of blood around her dead body. I struggled to hold back a scream of terror, but just as I feared, my father came rushing out of the room with a baseball bat.
The intruder, quick on his feet, ran to my father, knocked the bat out of his hands, took the duck tape, taped his mouth shut so he couldn't scream for help, then wrapped the rope around his neck and chocked him till he dropped on the floor right on top of my mom.
This time, I couldn't hold back a scream and the intruder quickly noticed me. He ran towards me, the switch blade ready to kill me.
But as I remember, at that moment a white light blinded him and I could feel another body melt into me. Past that point, my memory is blank. I was only seven at the time, and ever since that day I have been terrified at duck tape, rope, and switch blades.
I was shocked back into reality to find Chris staring at me affectionately. His eyes were thoughtful, his hand still dancing around mine.
I moved my hand away reluctantly and his expression became worried.
"This isn't right," I mumbled
"I know it isn't but-" he paused, "You're right, I'll be waiting downstairs." He shook his head as if to scold himself.
He stumbled around me, and I turned to watch him close my bedroom door as he exited my room.