Ironically, Little Boy led me to meet a young girl - who we'll call Sceney. This was due to the fact that she breathed anything that may make her seem anything like a 'scene' kind of person.
My first impression threw me off of her completely. She was loud, very tiny, and had hair that was on the thin side. But not a single thing got in her way.
She'd invited me over to her house only a day after we met. A certain obsession over me had ensued after she found out I was three years older than her. (She had this thing for hanging with older kids.) So I obliged, awkwardly knocking on her door and coming into a crash with her grandfather. He looked as though he was worn to the bone, and I waited a moment to say hello and give him a smile. He wasn't very thrilled.
He screamed her name and a viscous snarl came down the stairs to follow. (Okay, so she could be a little nicer.) But she came galloping down the stairs, snug clothing with jeans and her hair tied back. I could have sworn her hair looked amazing in all positions.
She came to a halt, and I looked up at the stairs that had taken over all view of the house from the door. They were covered in shaggy carpet, a light beige, and turned once in the middle with a landing. I felt as though there was much more to find at the top - the same feeling I kept getting with Sceney.
Her smile was so big it brought my attention back to her face, and I halted all thoughts. What was I doing here? She grabbed my hand and pulled me around the stairs to the cold tiles of her kitchen.
"Are you hungry? You must be. It's almost lunch time." She was talking so fast I didn't have time to respond, but then wondered if she was only talking to herself. "Here." She gave me a cup and whisked her body away to the fridge to get some Coke. "You like Coke, right?" I nodded.
She poured one for herself, and then looked at me as if peeling off layers. "You don't talk much do you?" I smiled.
"Sweetheart, maybe it is only that you talk a lot." I had a feeling she would smile, and she did. She loved to hear her own voice; and it was easy to tell.
A scream came from upstairs and I jumped.
"Oh, that's just Dylan, my younger sister." I looked at her in shock. "She's only a few months old, so she's a little loud." I nodded.
I assumed everything was loud in her house. Which was maybe exactly what I needed.
