what's up? here's chapter four! I don't really have very much to say... but tell me why (ain't nothin' but a heartache!) I got on at like 2 or 3 to post this and am doing it at 7:48pm... [Also to Naomi-sorry if I keep messaging you when I remix!!!] I walked in the living room and sat down next to my three year old brother Michael “Savannah” he said “who was that man that was in our house?” “That boy” I said, “is my friend Carter and he lives in the house with the yellow door.” “The yellow door!” Michael said excitedly “do you think he will tell us if the whole house is yellow inside!” “Maybe buddy.” I laughed. Just then my mom called my name, time to face the music. I walked in my mom’s room with the most natural face I could muster. A face that said, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong and even if I did, I had no clue that I did it'. “Yes ma’am?” I said opening her bedroom door, dad was nowhere to be seen. “Savannah you know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, let alone bring them to the house!” “Well mom,” I said “he’s our neighbor we can’t talk to our neighbors?” “No!” She said, like this was obvious. “Savannah I'm sorry to tell you but you’re definitely not going to summer camp now that you have done this.” I froze, I hadn’t even known there was a chance that I was going to be able to go, and now I knew for a fact that I couldn’t go. “Can I still be friends with Carter?” I asked trying to change the subject. Mom thought for a moment “Yes, I guess so, but he can’t come over here anymore and you most certainly cannot go to his house.” “Can he come in the yard?” I asked trying to mask my desperation. “Only with permission from me.” Mom answered. I was struggling to hold back my tears any longer “Is that everything?” I managed to say. “Yes” said my mom. I walked straight to my room and closed the door. I walked to my closet grabbing a pillow, my blanket, and a book along the way. I closed my closet door and turned on the light I arranged my pillow and blanket in the most comfy arrangement possible, tears falling all the while. I sat down on my makeshift bean bag and cried. Why was my mom so protective of me? I couldn’t do anything that the other kids could do. I couldn’t watch all the cool new movies, or play all the new video games. I don’t have a phone. I would never go to a school dance, even though I found out from a fellow homeschooler that there were in fact homeschool dances. I would probably never ever have a boyfriend and when I get older I’ll probably live in my parent's basement forever, I can’t go anywhere with my friends, I barely even have friends and I definitely have no friends that I see every day. I only see the few friends I have on Wednesday at my church’s youth group. When I finally calmed down I heard a bird singing outside the weird window that was in my closet. The window was in my closet because, I guessed, my room used to be bigger and walls were put up to make more rooms in the house before we had moved in it. I looked at the curtains I had made to cover the window. The window! The window was facing Carter’s house I could probably see over there. I wiped my eyes and opened the curtain. I could see straight across to carter’s house! And even more surprising one of the windows were open, and I could hear guitar music coming out of the house I watched to see if I could catch a glimpse of the guitar player. It was him! Carter playing guitar without a care in the world he looked so happy and like he was having so much fun it cracked me up. I had an idea a few years ago I had gotten some walkie talkies as a present from my brothers if I could just get one to Carter we could talk to each other! Just as I had made this ingenious plan my conscience chimed in reminding me that this was going behind my mom’s back and how much she would disapprove. “Stinkin’ conscience” I muttered. I put my elbows in the windowsill and rested my head on my hands watching Carter rock out. Maybe I could write him a letter, that was innocent right? I didn’t let my conscience have a say this time. I went in my room, found some paper an envelope and my favorite pen and went back to my closet. Before I sat down I opened my closet window so I could hear carter’s music better. After struggling with the stuck latches I managed to open the window. A breeze blew in my closet cooling my face that was still a bit warm from crying so hard. Carter was singing! I hadn’t heard him with the window closed. I couldn’t recognize the song, but then again I couldn’t listen to most music anyway. I listened for a bit longer when I heard my name. A song with my name in it was unlikely. He couldn’t be doing what I think he was doing. Was he writing a song, about me?!?
