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The setting sun was low enough to be blocked by the west side of the mansion by the time the limo pulled up driveway and stopped outside the main entrance. Ophelia stepped out first, Keira following her new friend out the same side.
“Don’t worry about all the bags, Calvin will bring them up to the Prez’s private floors.” Ophelia winked at the limo driver, and Keira turned and thanked him.
Keira followed Ophelia off the driveway, and on to a stone walkway that led to the main doors of the house. Nervousness washed over Keira as she stared at the set of thick, dark wood doors. Keira stopped walking, the mansion giving her the feeling that it was looming over her. The large white house with its tan roof tiles had suddenly become a beast of the unknown, and it spooked Keira.
Ophelia turned around to face Keira, and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Keira, this is home. You have more right to be here than anyone else living here—well, except the Prez.”
Ophelia smiled at Keira, who smiled back, comforted. Ophelia then turned back to the doors, and shoved them wide open.
“I’m hoooooooome!” Ophelia called, and Keira could swear she heard Ophelia’s voice echo.
Keira and Ophelia walked into the foyer, and Keira closed the doors behind them. No one seemed to have heard Ophelia, the the distant sounds of voices and music staying distant and steady. After a moment of just their steps on the marble floor, Ophelia groaned in an impatient tone.
“Keira, you stay here,” She pouted, “I’m going to see if the Prez is in, and gather everyone so you can meet them, okay?”
Ophelia then disappeared up the grand staircase opposite the main doors before Keira could respond.
Alone, Keira took a moment to look around her. The foyer ceiling was high, with a chandelier in the middle. Stained glass windows on the double doors, and to the sides of them seemed to keep the light from the chandelier overhead inside, along with all the warmth. The stairs were marble—like the floor—with black guardrails that had vines with flowers twisted into the design. The whole place seemed grand, big, and alive. Keira was noting the rose color of the marble beneath her feet when she heard a door open and close off to her left. Keira looked up and immediately locked eyes with a pale young man who looked around the same age. He was average height, but lean, with light brown hair that reached his shoulders and almost blocked his hazel eyes from view.
“Who are you?” He asked without inflection. He was frowning.
For a moment, Keira couldn't say anything. There was something about him that made her unable to find her voice. When she finally forced her mouth open, the nagging feeling she had voiced itself.
“Have we met before?” She asked, unable to stop herself, “I feel like I know you.”
The young man’s expression became instantly angry at Keira’s question. “Aren't you confusing me with whatever teen idol living here brought you home with him?”
He spat the words at her, meaning for them to sting. Keira flinched, remembering that the house was full of talented musicians—some of them were probably famous. He was treating her like a groupie: a fan girl.
“I--it's not like that!” Keira started again, this time trying hard not to stumble over her own words, “What I meant was, you look familiar, and I think I should know who you are, but—“
Keira’s words were cut off as another young man came down the stairs. “Emory, who are you yelling at now? I hope you’re not driving away one of Chris’ ‘lady friends’ again.”
“Well stop—I don’t want another girl complaining about you.”
“Not my problem.” Emory said unapologetically.
Keira opened her mouth to interrupt the young men, but was instead tackled by a third boy that had rushed her from out of nowhere. He knocked the wind out of Keira, and she gasped, but she was trapped in his arms, which were a crushing bear hug. The room began to spin a little for Keira.
“After the Prez told us about you, I couldn't wait to meet you!” The new boy exclaimed, “A new edition to the house—no—a princess to our castle!”
“What are you babbling about, Wren?” Emory asked, sounding disgusted more than curious. “Is she your stupid fan?”
The second boy responded thoughtfully. “’After the Prez told us about you…’ Could she be--?”
“I keep telling you idiots to keep your trash in your rooms.” Emory said maliciously. “Kick her out already Shield.”
The second boy shook his head, “I think you’re misreading this, Em.”
“What’s going on here?” A teenage girl with copper colored hair down to her waist walked in from behind the grand staircase.
“Nothing you need to worry yourself over Julie.” Emory said condescendingly.
Keira’s head was swimming; things had gotten very out of hand. The girl named Julie and the boy named Emory were now bickering at each other, and the boy named Shield yelled over them, trying to referee. Meanwhile, the boy named Wren was still gripping Keira tightly, rubbing his cheek against the side of her face as more people gathered in the entry hall. All the people’s voices began to run together as Keira became increasingly more dizzy…
Keira then heard Ophelia call out something from the top of the stairs—her voice louder and clearer than any other—and immediately blacked out.
Gerbil_of_the_Vashness · Fri Dec 26, 2014 @ 11:43pm · 0 Comments |
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