The Birthday PART ONE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "C'mon, you guys," Alex called. "Let's go to the vending machine." William pulled out the Foxy the Pirate action figure from his pocket and rubbed his finger over its eye patch like he did whenever he was nervous. He had been thrilled when Alex Lee had invited him to his ninth birthday party at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, but there had been a catch: Other kids. There were three other kids there: Bobby Gino, Diana Parker, and Allison Bell. William's mom had been friends with Allison's mom since they were in high school, so naturally William and Allison were expected to get along, which they did. Even though Allison was only six, two years younger than William, he liked to go to her house across the street to play with her Legos. When it was nice outside, they would race each other to the park on their bikes, where they would play in the sandbox for hours trying to make the tallest sandcastle. They competed a lot, but it was all fun. Now, William followed behind Allison as they got in line for the vending machine, each with a quarter in hand. He was last in line, which was fine by him. He had always been the one at a party to hang back and watch everyone else laugh and play. William Anderson, the quiet kid that always stayed indoors. He was okay around Allison, but incredibly shy around other people, even his parents. Pictures of the animatronics at the pizzeria filled the posters on the walls. Bonnie the Bunny had always scared William, even with her cheerful lavender paint job. Then there was Chica the Chicken, who always held a pink cupcake, Foxy the Pirate Fox (William's favorite) and Freddy Fazbear, the mascot of the pizzeria. Most of the animatronics scared him, but not as much as The Marionette. The Marionette was a puppet that stayed inside the music box. Everyday, a kid would get to wind up the music box, and the Marionette would pop out and hand them a gift. He may be friendly, but he gave William the shudders. He had an all white face, with two black slits for eyes, a blank, dark hole for his mouth, and a very skinny, black body that looked exactly like a floppy stick figure. What looked the creepiest, though, were the two vertical purple lines that went down under his eyes, as if he were crying. William guessed that he was supposed to look like a clown of some sort, but whoever had THAT idea hadn't done a good job of making him look like one. "Hey!" Diana's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "What is that?" The other kids looked up from their snacks to where Bobby was pointing. It was what looked like a man in one of those mascot suits, the kind that had always terrified William. The suit looked like it had once been a golden bear, but a layer of dust caked the surface, turning it a murky yellow color. A tiny black top hat rested between two round ears on his head, and his mouth hung open, revealing a gaping black space. He seemed to be calling them. "It's just a dumb guy in a suit," Bobby said. "I think he's calling us over there," Alex said. "Let's go check it out." "Maybe he'll have candy for us!" Allison exclaimed in her squeaky little voice. Her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders looked golden in the sunlight. The other kids were getting up from the table and parading through the door in the dining area. "Wait!" William cried. Everyone turned around to stare at him. Immediately his throat went dry. "Uh... My... My mom said to stay where she could see me." "Aw, who cares?" Bobby demanded. He had always struck William as intimidating, with his broad frame, fierce brown eyes, and red curls. Diana stared at William in that way that always made him uneasy. Her dark eyes surveyed him disapprovingly, and her bright clothes clashed with her chocolate brown skin in a way that made her seem fashionable and popular, which she was. People like that made William want to run home and hide under his bed with his Foxy the Pirate action figure. "You don't have to be such a baby, William," Alex said. He was the kind of kid who always got good grades, but still managed to be in the popular crowd. He had green glasses, brown eyes, and dark, wavy hair framing his face. "William?" Allison looked up at him with those bright blue eyes. "You are coming with us, right?" William turned to look nervously at each of them: Bobby, then Alex, then Diana, and then Allison. "Um..." he stuttered "Well... Maybe for a little while..." "Yaay!" Allison's face broke into a huge grin. "Let's go." The five children walked down the black and red tiled floors, past the cheesy posters on the walls with things like "CELEBRATE!" and "LET'S PARTY!" jumping out at them in tacky yellow colors. William caught eye of his reflection in one of the closed glass doors. A pale, skinny boy stared back at him through apprehensive brown eyes barely visible under tousled, blonde hair. He rubbed his Foxy action figure again. "Hey, where did he go?" Diana asked. "There!" Alex pointed. A sliver of yellow was barely visible at the corner of Pirate Cove. They ran toward it. They were running along the left wall now. The bear was just up in front. He opened a door and went inside. Alex, who was in the front, stopped. "It says EMPLOYEES ONLY." he said, peering at the sign on the door. "Are you an employee?" Allison asked, looking up at William. "Uh... No?" he replied. "Why would he lead us somewhere we're not allowed?" Alex asked. "Who cares?" Bobby said. It seemed to be his phrase of the day. "If he has candy, then that's good enough for me. I'm going in." Bobby turned the door handle and opened the door half way, and the five of them peeked in. William couldn't see anything from where he was standing. It was dark, but from the light flooding in through the door he could make out a small room with some costumes that looked like the animatronics from the show that took place at the pizzeria everyday. A wooden table was pushed to the back wall, littered with magazines, Freddy Fazbear posters, and a half-eaten croissant. A bulletin board took up one of the walls, with newspaper clippings tacked up here and there. A wardrobe stood on the wall next to the door, with one door hanging open and clothes and costumes spilling out. No sign of the yellow bear. "Look!" Diana whispered. She pointed toward the back wall, where a vent was set about three feet above the ground. It was big and square, and so wide that William could fit inside if he crouched really low. But what was so strange about it was that it was open--- The cover was propped up against the wall next to it--- And a pile of candy was sitting in the entrance, a mountain of Mars bars, Snickers, Twix, and who knew what else. Allison gasped. "Candy!" she shrieked. "Let's go get it!" said Bobby. "No!" William yelled. "It... It looks dangerous! Allison---" he grabbed Allison by the shoulder, squeezing a bit too hard. "Ow!" she cried, pulling away. "Stop it, William! You're being really bossy. You're no fun!" She turned around and followed the other three into the vent. William sighed. He never should have followed them. He could have stayed behind, but he didn't. Now even Allison, his only real friend, hated him for being a baby. William's eyes stung, and he stifled a sob. No, he would not cry. It was too dark to see, but he couldn't risk being called a baby again. He had no choice but to follow. PART TWO ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was dark, but from the little light streaming in through the door, William managed to stumble toward the vent--- but not before stubbing his toe on the table. He winced, sudden tears blurring his vision. Quickly, he wiped them away, looking to make sure no one saw, but the others were nowhere to be found. "Um... Guys?" He called out. "Allison?" The sound of giggling floated out of the vent. They had crawled all the way inside. William took a deep breath. He really didn't want to go in, but what other choice did he have? Staying here in the dark, off-limits room was out of the question. If he went back down the hall to the Party Room, the adults would ask him where Allison was, and he would have to tell them everything. Being a baby was bad enough, but a tattletale was a whole other level that William didn't want to go on. William pulled out the Foxy figure and rubbed its eye patch. The smooth, warm plastic felt familiar in his fingers and made him feel just a bit braver. Pocketing the action figure, William turned around and crawled into the vent. Inside, the air was damp and cool. The vent was unusually large, and William could fit thanks to his skinny frame, but he still had to crouch into an uncomfortable posture to crawl through. He wondered how Bobby had fit. Where was Bobby? Where was everyone else? Gingerly, William put one hand in front of him and started crawling, the thud of his sneakers echoing through the vent. The vent went straight ahead, then took a sharp turn right. The metal floor and walls were caked with dust and grime. The whir of an exhaust fan sounded somewhere up ahead. William kept going, squeezed through the turn, and saw a mane of familiar blonde hair. "Allison!" he exclaimed. Allison whipped around, nearly banging her head on the wall. "William!" she said. "Where were you? Bobby took all the candy!" Even in the dark, her bright blue eyes looked anxious. "I don't like this place, Will. Let's go back." "Where are the others?" "I don't know! I turned around for a minute, and when I looked back, they were gone." Drip, drip, drip. Drops started falling on William's head. "This place is leaking," he said. "Let's go, Allison." They turned around and William lead the way back, retracing his steps from before. Forward, left turn, keep going, and--- "Oh no!" William cried. "The vent... It's... It's closed!" He was right. While they were inside, someone had screwed the vent cover back in place. "Now what?" Allison asked. She was usually the brave one, but now she looked really scared, even by William's standards. "Calm down, Allison," he said, desperately looking around. "Maybe there's another way. All the vents in the pizzeria can't be closed, right?" He started to crawl the other way, but Allison stopped him. "Wait! What if someone opens the vent when we leave?" "Uh..." William racked his brains. "I'll stay here and guard the opening. You go look for another way out---" he paused when he saw Allison's expression. He had never, ever in all his years growing up with Allison, seen her look so scared. "Allison?" He said. "Allison--- What is it?" The little girl turned her terrified blue eyes to William. "Can... Can we switch?" "Switch?" William asked, surprised. "Um... Okay, then. You stay right here and DON'T MOVE." Allison nodded, looking very relieved. "Thanks, Will. You're really brave." William took a deep breath, rubbing his Foxy action figure for luck, and started into the vent. Drip, drip, drip. Water was leaking again. So this is what it's like to be brave, William thought. He always assumed it felt good, like nothing could stop you, but he felt pretty terrible. For one thing, he was terrified. Crawling through this pitch black vent was NOT fun, at all. Then why had Allison just called him brave? He realized, as he plodded along forward, that being brave wasn't just not being afraid of anything. It was being able to keep going, even when you were completely terrified. Am I really that brave? he thought to himself. Allison had looked really worried back there when he had mentioned going back into the vent's endless tunnels. What was she so afraid of? Where were the others? How far had they gone? And was anyone ever going to find the way out of the vents? Drip-drip-drip-drip. The water was leaking even more now. Big drops fell from cracks in the ceiling, dropping onto the steel floor with a steady 'plink, plink' sound. CREEEAAAAK. Something was creaking above him. All of William's courage abandoned him as he realized his fate. This place was coming apart. As fast as he possibly could, he turned around and started crawling back to where he had come from. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. He didn't know if that was his heart or his feet. Hopefully his feet. The dripping was getting louder, closer, rapidly increasing with each second. Then it happened. The water broke a hole in the ceiling. Freezing water gushed out of the ceiling right on top of William's head. He crawled away, sputtering, but just then another hole burst in the ceiling, causing him to press himself against the metal wall. He crawled faster and faster through the vents, sliding away from more and more leaks. Cold water seeped into his sneakers. His shirt was drenched. Finally, he saw a light at the end of the passage, faint, but definitely there. His heart pounded as he approached. He was sure this was where he had left Allison. Just through this next turn, and--- "What?" He gasped. For one thing, Allison was gone. But also, the vent door was open. SPLASH. The water had punched another hole in the ceiling, even bigger this time, and water flooded out onto the vent floor. He turned back to the vent door and saw something that, he was sure, hadn't been there before. On the wall, scrawled in red--- Paint? Blood?--- were the four words: THE JOY OF CREATION. He wanted to leave, but he had to make sure that Allison wasn't still in the vent. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. There was something in the vent, coming towards him. Were those Allison's footsteps? No, William realized, his heart sinking. Those sounded too big and slow. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. They were getting closer. The footsteps were louder this time. He whipped around to face the vent door, and screamed. Well, he tried to scream. The sound got caught in his throat. Standing in the front of the entrance to the vent was a man in a purple suit, like a hotel doorman, and a shiny golden badge pinned to the front of his shirt. The words engraved onto the badge were tiny, but they read: FRITZ SMITH - HEAD GUARD. In his hand he held a gleaming bread knife. PART THREE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The last thing William remembered before he blacked out was the purple man—Fritz—lunge at him with the bread knife. Time seemed to slow down. He saw the glint of the knife blade reflected in the eyes of the purple man— a glint that could only belong to the eyes of a psycho. He didn't know how he did it, but he managed to jump to the side. He felt the edge of the knife graze his elbow. Hot pain shot up his arm as he tried to hold back tears. Everything was a blur now. The purple suit, the shiny name badge, that horrifying smile on his face. The blood dripping from his elbow onto the floor, the screams coming from the vents, the gleam of the steel knife all swirled together in a painful, confusing blend of colors. "WILLIAM!" A voice yelled from across the room. William was suddenly jolted back to his senses. He whipped around, still holding his bloody elbow, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Allison. She was in the corner of the room, her hands tied behind her back. Her mouth had evidently been in a gag, but she had managed to get the white cloth to fall off so it hung just under her chin. Her blonde hair was tangled and wet. Tears streamed down her face in two glimmering lines. He started running toward her, but his foot slipped and he was sent sprawling onto the floor. CRACK. He winced and glanced at his foot, which was bent at an unnatural angle and hurt even more than his elbow. Finally, it all became too much. Getting left behind by the others, the dark of the vents, the cold water that was still soaking his shirt. The blood from his elbow staining his shirt, the immense pain in his ankle that made it impossible to move, seeing Allison tied up and helpless. He felt like a dam had been broken; there was too much pressure. William curled up in the fetal position, clutching his throbbing ankle. He couldn't hold it all in anymore. He began to cry. Through blurry vision he saw the purple man loom over him. He saw the flash of the knife, felt the sharp pain in his throat, and then... Nothing. His vision went completely black. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. Then, as slowly as it had gone, it came back. He could see nothing but pitch black, but the strange thing was that he couldn't feel anything either. He felt weightless, but he wasn't floating. Then why couldn't he feel the floor underneath him? Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was still in the back room, but it was empty. He recognized the table at the back wall, the large wardrobe, and of course the vent, but there was nothing actually in the room. The table had nothing on it, the wardrobe was completely empty, and there was nothing at all on the floor. It all felt strange, unnatural even, to be in a room so clean. He walked over to the door—although it felt more like gliding— and looked into the mirror mounted on the wall. What he saw shocked him: There was nothing there. He had no reflection. William looked down at his body and nearly screamed. He didn't have a body, not anymore. Instead, he saw a murky white outline of himself, so dull and blurry he had to squint to see it properly. Quickly, he stole another glance into the mirror, preparing himself for the worst. Looking closer, he saw his face— only it wasn't his face. It was, like his body, a blurry grey shape barely visible unless you looked carefully. There was no color anywhere, except for his eyes, which were their normal brown color. Two vertical lines ran down his face from under his eyes, like tear tracks — Just like, he realized with a jolt, the Marionette. William turned around and saw three more ghostly figures standing—floating—against the wall by the wardrobe. He recognized them instantly, even though he could make out no more than their shape. But something was wrong— There were only three. Bobby Gino was missing. William drifted toward the three ghastly shapes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again. Nothing. "You cannot speak," said a voice behind him. It was a strange voice. It sounded staticky and buzzing, but under that layer of choppiness the voice was ancient sounding and radiated an aura of power. "You cannot speak. How can you voice your thoughts without vocal cords? You do not have a body anymore, William Anderson. You are a spirit, a soul, a mere shadow of your living self. Vital to my plans." How does he know my name? William wondered. He didn't dare turn around to see who the voice belonged to. He felt as if he had reached maximum capacity for sheer terror. The Marionette laughed, a bone-chilling sound that echoed off the walls. "I know more about you than you think, William. But that is not important now. We must deal with the matter at hand. Turn around, my little spirit." William stayed where he was, frozen with fear. "I said, TURN AROUND." there was a slight note of impatience in the voice and William thought he'd better do what was asked. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face... The Marionette. It was definitely him. There was that pale white face, that thin, pitch dark body. There were the two vertical lines on his face just under his blank slitted eyes, the expressionless grin on his face, those thin strings hanging off of his skinny limbs. What do you want with me and my friends? William asked, in his mind. "I was just getting to that," the Marionette said, his voice clicking and buzzing. "You and your little friends are essential in helping me take my vengeance. Soon I shall combine ancient with modern, mechanics and supernatural magic, and form my own army. Twenty years... Twenty excruciatingly long years. Now, I will finally reap my rewards... The sweet, sweet taste of revenge..." With each word, his voice grew more eager — almost hungry — with anticipation. I'm sorry, sir, William thought. But I'm not sure I understand what you mean. "Bah! Any fool could understand my point. Over the years, I have spent countless hours mastering the elaborate art of sorcery. Now, I will use that sorcery and transfer the souls of children from their bodies —" He pointed to the floor behind him, and William gasped. There, sprawled on the ground, was himself... Only, he was dead. The Marionette snapped his floppy fingers and the body disappeared. In its place stood four animatronics — THE four animatronics he had known nearly all his #life. "—To these animatronics!" The Marionette laughed again, finishing his sentence with a flourish. "With mechanism and magic combined, I will form an unstoppable army to take my beautiful revenge. My plan is flawless." You... You can't do that, Mr. Marionette! a tiny voice squeaked in William's mind. Allison's voice, he realized. Yeah, you can't. Please... Just let us go, another voice joined, and this time it sounded like Alex. We'll do anything you want us to do. Please free us. Our parents will be worried. How would you feel if you were about to be used in a supernatural army? "ENOUGH!" The Marionette bellowed. "I will NOT be taught manners by a bunch of schoolchildren! You are all in my plan, and will all serve ME!" The Marionette's words were followed by laughing — maniacal, crazy laughing, the last thing that William heard before his consciousness betrayed him and everything went black. EPILOGUE ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Foxy had almost let go of his past #life. His name was actually still William, but he saw no point in using that name. He was Foxy the Pirate Fox now, one of the animatronics at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. It was a miserable fate, but he figured it could have been worse. Everyday was more or less the same — Stay in the Pirate Cove, come out when it was time for another birthday, then go 'play' with the kids visiting. He didn't have to eat. Even though he was often hit with a sudden craving for pizza, he never got hungry. After all, he was a machine now. Night times were the most interesting, though. He and the others — Bonnie (formerly Diana) Freddy (who used to be Alex) and Chica (who used to be Allison) — would play a game of Hide and Seek with the night guard. It was a miserable, monotonous #life. There weren't any ups or downs or twists or turns anywhere throughout the day. There were things, though, that kept mysteries and rumors alive amongst the animatronics. Where had Bobby Gino disappeared to? What was this 'revenge' that the Marionette had kept talking about? And was anything, ever, going to happen to set the four souls free? That night, Chica appeared at the edge of the curtain to visit Foxy. "Hi, William," she said, obviously trying to keep her voice soft. This, however, was hard to do with a staticky voice box. "I'm not William," he answered in the same voice, but slightly lower pitched and choppier. "I'm Foxy now." Chica shook her head, turning it left, then right. "You'll always be William. I'll always be Allison. You know I'm not going to use those cheesy names. And anyway, what about when you're in college and have a job and everything? Would you insist on people calling you Foxy because some psycho shoved you into a Foxy suit when you were eight?" Foxy looked at her, slightly surprised. "You talk like this will all be over soon. Like someday we'll all be normal people again, with bodies and flesh and blood and —" he paused. "You talk like this isn't really real... Like this isn't really our fate..." His voice cracked. A voice that sounded like a sob came out from Chica's voice box. "It may sound ridiculous, but... I believe that. I believe that we'll get out someday. That we'll be normal people with normal lives." Her orange beak bent into a sad little half-smile. "That's why I'm always using everyone's real names. It just... Helps me cope, you know?" In the hallway, the clock struck twelve. "C'mon," she said. "It's time to start Hide and Seek." Chica-Allison smiled a last smile and waved one yellow-feathered wing, then disappeared down the hall.

The Nail Art Club Zoe Ridson is my best friend. Well, she was. At least until exactly 4:27 PM, last Tuesday. I remember because she was teasing me about my watch. Let me start at the beginning. My name is April Wittman. I have long brown hair that tumbles past my shoulders and big brown eyes. I'm kinda tall. Not too tall, but tall enough for me to be a human giraffe at movie theaters. Now let me explain what happened. See, Zoe is real popular. She has wavy, strawberry-blond hair that she always seems to know how to tame, baby blue eyes, and a 150-watt smile. She is just a little bit shorter than me, and her clothes are AMAZING. Don't even get me started on her room. Or her Shih Tzu, Sherbert. Now that you know Zoe, let me tell you what an honor it is to be her best friend. Every girl yearns to hold the title, "Zoe Ridson's BFF". She's a good friend, and she's really fun, and all that, but I kind of had my doubts about her. For starters, she picks on others that are different from her. When I ask her about it, she frowns and says, "She's not my type." Well, hel-LO. Ever step back and take a look at how different we are, Zoe? I would want to ask. When I did ask her, she said, "Ironic, isn't it?" Then she would laugh and change the subject. There are a couple of other things she does, too, but I don't like talking about other people behind their back, unlike SOME people I know... Anyway, Zoe and I were walking home from school one day and we started to talk about nail art. I think you might have guessed already, but Zoe has AMAZING nail art. And nail art stuff, too. And every stencil money could buy. So anyway, we were talking about the best colors for a French manicure. Then she said, "Why don't we start a club?" "Perfect," I breathed. "A nail art club!" We high fived. Later, she called me up and said that she'd spread the word on her blog and that testing would begin tomorrow at lunch recess. "Testing?" I said. "What are we testing for?" "To see who's in or out of the club, of course," she replied. "Um... How do we test?" I asked. "Simple," she said. "Anyone who wants to join must apply a French manicure onto their fingernails. If it's perfect, they can join." I was shocked. Never before had I heard of testing a new member of a club. It sounded... Unfair. I don't know why, it just did. "What if they don't know how to DO a French manicure?" I inquired. "Then they won't stand a chance in our club." Zoe said. "Um... Okay, I guess. Hey, will I have to take the test?" "April, you and I are the founders of the club. We're automatically in the club. Permanently, too." After I had hung up, brushed my teeth, changed into my nightgown, and crawled into bed, I was still thinking about the test. I thought clubs were for everyone, I thought. I don't like exclusive or private clubs or groups. Oh, April, said a tiny voice in my head. Who doesn't know how to apply a simple French manicure? Plenty of people, I argued. Like... Like... But I couldn't think of anyone. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, read the latest fashion magazines and knew what was in and what was out. Who wouldn't know how to apply a French manicure? My question was answered the following day.

Turtle Attack BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEE—click! I turned off my alarm and rolled over, groaning. "Five more minutes..." I mumbled. Then I sat up sharply in bed. "Oh, no!" I cried. How many times had I hit 'snooze'? "I'm going to be late for school!" Quickly, I ran to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt and ran down the stairs, two at a time, for breakfast. "Mom!" I called. "Do we have any cereal—" I stopped and looked around the kitchen. No one there. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Quarter to seven. Wasn't breakfast usually at around six thirty? "Hey," I called. " Mom? Dad? Anyone?" Had everyone left early? Was there something going on at school that I hadn't known about? Another thought raced through my mind. Had they overslept? Hmm. Pretty unlikely for everyone in the house— except me— to not wake up on time. Besides, Mom's really punctual and can't stand being late for anything, including starting the day. Plus, whenever she wakes up first (which she usually does) she always shakes everyone else awake. Dad, me, my older sister Amy, my younger brother Luke... My thoughts were interrupted by footsteps in the hall, just outside the kitchen door. "Leah?" a voice called. "Leah! What are you DOING down here? Do you have any idea what time it is?" I looked up from the cereal box I was holding. Dad stood in the doorway, squinting in the light. His hair was all messy, and he was wearing a bathrobe and bedroom slippers. "D-Dad?" I stuttered. "Dad! It— It's almost seven o' clock! Why..." "Exactly!" he cried. "What are you doing up so early? And you went to bed at nearly twelve last night! Don't you know that an eleven-year-old girl needs at least ten hours of sleep?" I could only stare. With my mouth open. For a full minute. "Dad," I said finally. "I need to get to school. That is why I'm awake right now." Now it was Dad's turn to stare. "Leah," he said. "Have you looked at the calender lately?" "Huh?" I asked. "No, why?" Dad sighed and said, "Leah, it is summer vacation. You can sleep for as long as you want without worrying about school." He said it very slowly, sounding out each syllable as if I were from the#moonand couldn't speak English. "Summer vacation?" I asked just as slowly. "But... But... Why...? Why did my alarm go off? I never set it on weekends or breaks!" Dad yawned. "I don't know," he replied. "But I do know that I'm really sleepy. I'm going back to bed. You can eat breakfast if you want." he turned and left. I looked around the kitchen, wondering what to do. There was nothing to do, really. Everyone else was still asleep. But then, I wasn't really tired anymore. Might as well make some cereal and maybe go out for a bike ride or something. I opened the kitchen cabinet and reached for a box of Coco Pops. Suddenly I heard a sound coming from the den. I turned around. The sound stopped. I found the cereal and was reaching into the fridge for some milk when I heard it again. A sort of scraping sound, like a chair being pushed across the floor. I decided to go see what it was. Leaving the fridge door wide open, I strode out of the kitchen and into the den, towards the source of the sound. "Hello?" I called, even though everyone was upstairs, in bed. "Anyone?" Silence now. Then... "BOO!" I screamed and turned around. It was only Amy, my older sister. She stepped out from behind the armchair she had obviously been hiding behind. She was wearing a goofy grin that usually brought bad news, for me anyway. And this was no exception. "I totally scared you!" she cried. "You screamed!" "Did not!" I shot back, feeling myself turn red. "What are you doing up so early anyway, Amy?" The stupid grin didn't leave her stupid face. Mischief danced around inside her bright blue eyes. "You tell me, Leah." she said. "Why are you up on s u m m e r v a c a t i o n, hm?" Something about the way she said that made me suspicious. "Why did your a l a r m clock go off? Hmmm..." Suddenly, everything made sense. While I was sleeping, Amy had somehow set my alarm clock so that I would wake up and think I had to go to school. She knows I can't think straight when I'm tired. I blushed for the second time that day. I wasn't sure if it was from anger or sheer humiliation. Amy was now dancing all around the den, singing, "I tricked 'cha, I tricked 'cha, I tricky-tricky-tricked 'cha!" I spotted the milk inside the wide open fridge. At that moment, I would have given ANYTHING to splash the whole carton onto her face, even though she's allergic to cow milk and starts throwing up all over the place if she drinks a drop. If any flies into her mouth as I splash it, well, serve her right. But being the most sensible one in the family i decided otherwise and Only punched her in the stomach instead. Well, I tried. Amy takes karate and dodged. "You missed!" Amy was hysterical now. She doubled over and said something, but she was laughing so hard I didn't hear exactly what. She stood up and flipped back her mane of golden hair. I let out a groan of exaspertion and sank into an armchair. Okay, maybe I should introduce myself, something I should have done earlier. My name is Leah Walker. I'm eleven years old. I have brown hair that goes down a little way past my shoulders, brown eyes, and an actual sense of sanity unlike some people I know. I think that one thing you should know is that my seven-year-old brother Luke, my maniac fifteen-year-old sister Amy, and I are all named after characters from StarWars, the reason for this being that my parents met at a StarWars movie. Amy's real name is Amidala, since she was named after Queen Amidala. She hates her real name though, and if you call her Amidala she pretends you're not even there and doesn't answer until you call her Amy. I was named after Princess Leia. I know it's pronounced "Lay-ah", but I prefer pronouncing it "Lee-ah". Luke (named after Luke Skywalker, in case you couldn't guess) is perfectly happy with his name. Luke is also obsessed with video games like Sonic the Hedgehog, Little Big Planet, Terraria, and Beyblade. And he's got everything from a Wii to an X Box in his room. Luke is an okay brother. He can be annoying sometimes, but most of the time he's fine. I even play Nintendo or Xbox with him sometimes. Anyway, back to what was happening. Amy had finally quieted down a bit. Suddenly, I heard footsteps in the hall. Mom appeared in the doorway, in a faded robe and bedroom slippers. She didn't appear tired or sleepy in the least. I can never figure out just HOW she's so alert every morning, without coffee. Whenever I ask her how come she loves getting out of bed every morning, she says, "What's wrong with starting the day? The dishes aren't going to do themselves with everyone in bed, right?" "What's going on down here?" she asked. "I thought you two would be in bed!" "Mom!" I cried. "Amy tricked me. Again!" "What's wrong with getting you out of bed?" Amy asked innocently. I could see a smirk playing around on her mouth. "Because that's pretty much all I did." "Mom!" I cried again. "Well, I don't see what's wrong with getting you out of bed, Leah. As a matter of fact, I'd better get dressed and start breakfast. The pancakes aren't going to flip themselves, are they?" Mom smiled, turned and left. "Amy, you just wait till I get my hands on you! One more trick and I'll... Uh..." "You'll what, Leah?" she asked. "I'll put cow milk in the pancake batter!" I declared triumphantly. Amy yawned. "Whatever. I have more important things to spend my summer doing." Amy turned and left for her room. That left me on my own in the den. * * * "Pass the bacon, please," Luke said. "Here you go Luke," Dad said, passing him his plate. "May the forks be with you!" Luke and Dad laughed. It was the perfect start to a perfect summer. I could tell. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining. A warm breeze fluttered the napkins on our patio table, and the sky was a brilliant blue. I took a bite of my pancakes, then helped myself to some more toast. Amy sipped her orange juice, Dad and Luke were cracking more puns, and Mom had emerged from the back door with some more butter. "Better eat quick, guys," Mom said. "The suitcases won't pack themselves." I nearly spit out my juice. I managed to swallow, then said, "Pack? For what?" Mom smiled. Dad grinned. Luke and Amy exchanged knowing looks. "Did I let the cat out of the bag?" Mom asked. "Well, we can't keep it in forever, can we?" "Mom!" I cried. "Tell!" "Okay, okay," Mom said with a laugh. "Well, you know how Dad and I said we would be able to go to Lankawi Island for vacation this summer?" I nodded. Mom and Dad had told Amy, Luke, and me a few weeks ago that we would go to Lankawi Island in Malaysia for summer vacation. We had all gone ballistic. Amy left on the bus with her friends to shop for summer clothes. I spent hours on the internet, noting the weather there, the coolest tourist attractions, the best hotels, and I had even learned a bit of Malay, the native language in Malaysia. Luke was deciding which Beyblades and Starwars figures to take with him, and he was also doing a lot of chores around the house in order to get more allowance to buy more video games from Lankawi. The bottom line is: We were ECSTATIC. "Yeah," I said. "What about it, Mom?" "Well," she said. "We got the tickets, but it appears that there's room for three more families." I stopped eating. "What do you mean, Mom?" I asked. "Well," she continued. "Dad and I decided—" "We're going to Lankawi with the members of the Turtle Club!" Luke blurted. "What?" I gasped. "Are you serious?" "We've never been more serious in our lives, Leah," Dad said. "Except for that time, when I was going to make a bowl of cereal." Dad got up and carried his plate inside. He kept talking, mostly to himself, but his voice trailed off. I managed to hear, "Man, I was rarin' to go..." "Mom..." I stuttered. "That's... This... THIS IS AWESOME! Whoo!" I tossed my fork and knife in the air like confetti. Amy caught them, grinning.