The story starts on my 13th birthday, walking home from school with my friend Amara. Even years from now I can still remember it clearly. I guess because this was the day my life changed forever. “I’m telling you Madelyn, you need to join the creative writing club! You have such a good imagination! And you're already good at writing. You should do it, trust me.” Amara suggested, staring me straight in the eyes, as if daring me to say no. “Amara…” I started. I couldn’t deny how nice that sounded, but I knew my Aunt Sadie wouldn’t like that very much. She was all business, I was even surprised that she let me join a club at all, even if it was the studying club. “I could talk to your Aunt Sadie. I’m sure if she heard me out, she couldn’t say no!” Amara said cheerfully, though I could hear the unsteadiness in her voice, as if she didn’t believe herself. Amara was my best friend. She was cheerful, imaginative, smart, and funny. She was also the daughter of a lawyer and had natural debate skills. She had been my closest friend ever since I moved to New York. But the thing is, because of how strict my Aunt Sadie was, except for our walks home together and school, I barely got to see her. I wasn’t allowed to have sleepovers, or friends over on school nights, or do any clubs except the studying club. Not only that, but the weekend was “Time to stay home and be productive”, and apparently having Amara over would get in the way of that. Amara wanted to see me more, so she’d been plotting to convince my mom to let me join the creative writing club, the club she was in, so we could be together. But we knew it was pointless. She would never say yes. I sighed and looked at the ground. I felt the warm air on my arms and legs, and admired the pink, and yellow flowers planted next to almost everyone’s front door. I found it comforting to be silent and observe. I even liked it just as much as I loved to talk. I looked up to find Amara fidgeting with her dirty blonde hair. I knew something was wrong, because that’s what she did whenever she was nervous. “Hey,” I said in a comforting tone, “Is everything okay?” She looked at me and smiled, “It’s fine.” I raised my eyebrows, “It’s not fine, you’re twirling your hair, you only do that when you’re anxious.” Amara sighed, “It’s just… I’m nervous about seeing your Aunt Sadie. You're barely ever allowed to see me, and your Aunt Sadie finally lets me into your house… I just know I’m going to mess it up.” I bit my lip. I’d been worrying about just that. Amara’s humor and quirks were no problem to me. My times with her were the only times I felt that I truly enjoyed myself. The only times where I didn’t have to be “Perfect Madelyn: The farm girl who turned into a proper lady” . But my Aunt Sadie might not be too fond of Amara’s antics. All I could do was pray that my birthday dinner with my aunt, uncle, and Amara would go well. It’ll be fine, right? I thought to myself. It will, I’m sure of it. I stated in my head, though I didn’t really believe it. Me and Amara spent the rest of the walk to the house in silence. I guess we were both too worried to talk. And I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I was surprised when we reached the door to my apartment building. I felt a need to double check that I was actually home. Red door, green bush, silver door knob, this is the place. I thought. I looked at Amara, still messing with her hair. I reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re here,” I said, “You ready?” She gave me a weak smile, “Yep!” As we walked in and up the stairs of the building to get to our small apartment room, I tried to prepare Amara for my Aunt Sadie, though, looking back, there was really nothing I could say that would change the events of that night. “Always use proper table manners, never talk back, don’t say anything about art, or sports or something like that. Academics are the most important thing for her, and she wants me to have friends who think the same. Talk about math class, study methods, and your achievements. Yeah, achievements are really good, then she’ll be begging me to hang out with you more! Just don’t talk about any of your creative writing awards though, okay? She won’t like those.” I rambled. Amara laughed, “That sure is a lot to remember. Anything else? Do I need to get a notebook to write them down?” “This isn’t funny!” I said, though I laughed. “You don’t know how strict Aunt Sadie is! She’s been like this ever since I moved in at 9! And though I’m naturally a perfectionist, she’s part of the reason I’m like this. So obsessed with being smart, and being perfect.” Amara frowned, “I know it’s hard. But it’ll be fine, even if I mess up in front of your aunt, I’ll still be able to see you at school.” “I guess..” I mumble, “I just, I want to see you more, you remind me to actually enjoy myself. This has to go well, then she might even let me see you on the weekends, or let me call you!”
“One can dream.” Amara said. Suddenly, we arrived at my apartment. It’s time, I thought to myself. Amara knows what to do, I know how to act around Aunt Sadie, It’s my birthday, so I have extra luck, It’ll be fine. I knew somewhere deep down that it wasn’t going to be fine. That this dinner was going to be a turning point in my life that would likely change me for better or for worse, and it was likely going to be for worse. But I had to keep hope, for my sake, and for Amara’s sake. As I dropped my black backpack on the floor of the carpeted hallway, and pulled out my silver key, I kept thinking about reasons for this night to go perfectly. Of course, not a single one of them did I actually believe to be real. I took a deep breath as I heard the creak of the door as it opened. This night had to go well so it would, wouldn’t it? I brushed my red hair away from my face and smiled at Amara as we walked into my dark apartment. Show time.
