Now, Madeline stood by the front door, arms folded against her chest and her face twisted in irritation. “Heather, the door’’s locked.”
I froze. “What?”
“Did you forget to turn off the fire-lock when you left the house?” She rolled her eyes.
“I didn’t even know the fire-lock was on!” I said, following her as she made her way to the garage and punched in the code. As the garage door rolled open, I shook my head. “Um, this way won”t work. All the doors are locked.”
“What do you mean all the doors are locked? We never lock any of the side doors! We never even lock the front door!” Madeline said, eyes wide.
“I lock the doors! Especially with just Grant and I home… I wanted us to be SAFE!”
She shook her head. “So, we’re locked out, and Grant’s probably still asleep…”
We both froze at the realization that our getting inside rested in the hands of our sneaky and evil little thirteen-year-old brother. Stepping out of the garage, we looked up at his bedroom window. The shutters were closed shut.

“GRANT!” I screamed. “GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT! We’re locked out! LET US IN!”
The shutters remained shut. Muttering under my breath, I pulled my giant coin-filled wallet out of my bag. The first time I chucked it, the wallet merely hit the top of the garage. The second time it hit his window with a loud bang, and then landed on the window sill.

“Brilliant, Heather.” Maddie chuckled. “Real brilliant.”
“Oh, no…” I said, eyes wide, as the shutters slowly flipped open.

Then, still hiding his face from view, Grant slid the window up. Much to my horror, his long arm gradually snuck out from his room and snatched my wallet from the sill. And then, in one quick second, the window slammed down and the shutters shut.

“GRAAAAAAAAAAANT!” I bellowed, ignoring the glares from the two plastic OC women walking past my house. “If you take anything out of my wallet, you WILL be in MASSIVE TROUBLE!”
Hands on her hips, Maddie sighed. “Now what?”
“Um,” I paused. “Well, um… Fine! We’re going to STARBUCKS, Grant! Without you! BYE!”

Madeline and I ran back into the car, speeding to the little Albertson’s Starbucks. After moaning about our bedhead appearances and finding a bit of change in the glove department, we rushed inside. We returned to the car with three drinks. I was certain that a mocha frappuccino would earn our way back into the house.

It did, eventually. After waving the frothy cup up at the window and then making a show of Madeline pretending to drink it, he rushed down the stairs and threw open the front door. Despite his attempts to grab the drink and keep us outside, I managed to push my way in. Oh, yes, so sweet it was to be back inside.

“Granty, Granty,” I drew in a sip of my hot black coffee, my eyes sharp on Grant’s. “Oh, dear little boy, how foolish you are. After the whole scare-Heather fest, I was going to go easy on you… But now… Oh, goodness… Now, I will revenge. BIG TIME, MISTER!”"
He laughed, dancing with his frappuccino. “Ha, whatever.” And then he skipped away, as I laughed my evil laugh.

It was just past midnight when my black lab began to growl. Half asleep, I rolled over in bed, shushed her with a pat on the head, and proceeded to try and drift off. Five minutes later, Belle growled again. The rumbling sound vibrated my bed and stifled the heavy night winds. Before I could even try and calm her down, she jumped to the floor in a mess of long legs. In her two years of life, Belle has never barked so loud and with such intensity.

The house was dark, and besides Belle’s howling and the drifting whispers of the wind, it was quiet. My parents were vacationing in Mexico, so it was just my two younger siblings and me. Belle’s barking was beyond alarming – she only “speaks” when senses a stranger near by. Because of this, I had the sudden urge to run screaming out of my house, sprint straight to the Mexican border and find my parents. I was willing to risk exposure to the Swine Flu! Anything but face the frightful mean invader of my home sanctuary!

I crawled out of my bed, cursing my first floor bedroom and the oh-so terrible danger it put me in. I tripped over my combat boots and in the last moment decided to slip them on. If need be, I could KICK the robber in the nose, down under, the knees, and the TOES. I was determined to save my dear brother and sister, as well as my own precious life.

Meanwhile, Belle was whimpering in between barks, pushing at my bedroom door and begging to be released so she could attack. I nodded. We were ready. Ready to fight and protect! To kick some ass, you could say.

“One… Two…” I whispered, holding the cold door knob. “THREE!”

I opened the door and Belle darted out into the hallway, sniffing and searching for any sign of true physical evidence. Cowardly and drugged on Benadryl, I wandered out of my bedroom at a slower and more timid pace.

“Madeline?” I called. “Grant? HELLO, ARE YOU GUYS ALIVE?!”

I wander over to the staircase, grasping the banister and swaying with the shadows from the front large windows. There was a light on in my sister’s room, so I yelled again, “Madeline! Maddie! Hellooooooooo! Madds!?!?!”
“What?!” She snapped, popping her head out of her room from upstairs.
“Oh, good. You’re alive.” I sighed. “Where’’s Grant?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Bed.”
“Okay. Thank goodness. Belle was just… freaking out… It’’s all okay, though!” I insisted to myself.

After checking the bolted lock on the front door and deciding that Belle agreed the house was in control, I wandered back to my bedroom. As I turned the corner and into my pitch black hallway, the man grabbed me by the shoulder and yelled, “AHRAAAHGGGGHH!!”

I cried out in agony, falling backwards into the kitchen as my heart was thrown out of my chest. Sobbing and holding onto an also frightened Belle, I screamed some more. “I’VE ALREADY CALLED 911 DON’T YOU DARE TRY ANYTHING! AHHHGERAWAWWWW! RUN MADELINE, RUN!”

“I so got you!” Grant cheered with a dance, stepping into the light of the kitchen.
I held my chest and ninja kicked the air in front of him. “Just because your now taller and sneakier than me does NOT mean you can attack me in the middle of the night! MEAN MEAN BOY!”
“I scared Heather! I scared Heather!” He sang.
“I thought I was going to DIE!” I screamed, stomping past him and into my room. “You will pay! Just you wait! Years from now… You will pay!”

This occurred two nights ago and I’m tragically STILL shaking from the incident. Obviously I’m a very jumpy person. So… Anyone have any ideas as to how to get back at my 13-year-old brother?

My finger accident was much more serious then I realized. I woke up the morning after my last blog, to the bandage soaked through and my sheets stained with fresh blood. Thanks to my several different blood disorders, the cut couldn’t form platelets fast enough and therefore the blood kept flowing. It took about two… three days to finally get the small gash to stop bleeding and by then, I was anemic and weak. I hadn”t felt that weak and sick since I was 13, before my spleen was removed.

It was frightening, to say the least. At one point, I was sure my parents needed to call for a helicopter to transport me back to CHOC. I was ready to resign my healthy, vibrant life for one with an IV attached to me at all times once more. Now that I’m okay and dancing through my days again, I decided that once I’m back in Orange County, I’m seeing my hematologist and getting retested FOR EVERYTHING. I’m taking my giant horse pills of medicine, so this should NOT have happened.

On a happier note, a lovely Canadian slept on my couch for a few days this week. Dalia is a good friend of mine that I know thanks to a certain vampire series (*cough*Twilight*cough*). Anyway, I didn’t realize how much I LOVE Berkeley and San Francisco until I got to show it off to her. I was so proud and enthused to share my city with her. Plus, she’s vegan, too. So we ate up all the wonderful Bay Area cruelty free food. No animals were harmed in our epic journeys!

I’ll probably write more on our experiences later, but for now, I’ll leave you with a video. It’s pretty much self explanatory. But, um, do be warned that the language I use would make it rated R in theaters. I was rather frazzled and cold, so the F bomb was exploded a few good times.

Oh, and this was filmed on March 3rd of 2009. Like I said, I was kind of loopy – from lack of blood AND defeating hell’s fury! I swear, I’m not usually THIS annoying.

I have a friend. This friend I shall call The Swallow. When I first moved to Berkeley and became closer with The Swallow, he introduced me to the Team Game. The game basically is that whenever you randomly see a weird/ridiculous/funny looking person, you tell one of your friends that the bizarre person is on their team.

I went along with the Team Game for the past two months. I would laugh and shove the Swallow whenever a “freak” joined my team. I hesitated adding anyone to his team for the first few weeks and when I finally did, I wanted to cry. I felt so ridiculously bad about those simple words. Your team. I wanted to crawl in a hole.

I moved on the from the incident, but I never participated again. I shook my head whenever The Swallow threw someone at me. “Ha ha ha ha. Real nice.” I’d say. But silently, I would think lovely and beautiful thoughts about the person in hopes to undo the pain that The Swallow caused.

Last night I took a stand. As we walked past the long haired girl with an accordion, I stopped.

“I will no longer put up with this travesty of a game!” I announced as I folded my arms.
“Heather, dude.” The Swallow laughed.
I shook my head, the lights of Shattuck Avenue swarming my mind. “It’s cruel, Swallow. This game is just pure evil.”
“They don’t hear us, so therefore it doesn’t hurt!” He shrugged.
“You’re still sending it out into the universe!” I gasped. “No more! I do not want to play this anymore!”
“Hey Heather,” The Swallow smirked. “See that chick screaming? She’s on your team.”
“GOOD! I WANT HER TO BE ON MY TEAM! I HAPPILY ACCEPT THE SCREAMING CHICK ON MY TEAM!”
“Okay, then…”

Because seriously, what is the good in picking on people? Why must we consider any person out of the norm weird? I announce a new game! The My Team Game. Whenever I see a rad, unique person, I’ll proudly put them on my team. ANYONE! EVERYONE! HELLO!

And you are all on my team.

Have a good day.

For anonymity, I’ll give them stage names. Mustang Boy and Football Boy. Over the past few months, both of the guys have become more prominently noticeable – to a degree of gut wrenching humor (is that bad?).

Mustang Boy always finds a way to park right next me. It doesn’t matter if I see his car in different lane when I park mine, by the time I come out of class, his red Mustang is beside my red Mini Cooper. And yes – I have checked the lisence plate to prove this. Without fail, for the past two months, our cars have been within touching distance of each other by the end of the day. Cute, right?

Who is Mustang Boy? Why he is the boy who sits two aisles away from me in class, silent, his back slumped against the wall. He frequently looks in pain, much to my confusion, and I have never heard him talk. NEVER, EVER. For all I know the guy has a voice equivalent to Mickey Mouse.

Despite our parking relationship (which is all HIS doing), we have never spoken a word. I can say one fact about the boy though: He is a slow driver, and I so kicked his ass at that green light.

Then there is Football Boy. A boy who has sat directly behind me every single day for a really, super duper long time (and our class is over half empty). Now, this guy has some long legs, and he likes to stretch them all the way out, so his feet are basically beside mine. Then he slumps forward in his desk and 80% of the time keeps his head rested down. This wouldn’t be quite so weird if it weren’t for two things.

1) My hair is ridiculously thick and has become quite long. Most of the time it’’s hanging over and on top of his desk without my knowing. And yeah, okay, this isn”t Football Boy’s fault… But it is still awkward and swear I feel him touching… Or maybe I’m just paranoid.

2) His breathing. He always breathes as if he’s currently running, rather then resting. And I wouldn’t mention this if it weren’t for the fact that I feel his breath on my neck and ears for two hours straight.

Despite my close proximity with Football Boy, we too have never talked. Or we have. I lend him a pencil and paper at least once a week, but besides that… Nada. Which is partly my fault, I write during class quite a bit for an Algebra course and I zoom out to my car like a puppy on a walk, but still.

The point of this ramble is how intriguing I find it, that some people stick out to you so abruptly, while others fade into the distance. I’m sure it was at first a coincidence that Mustang Boy and I kept parking next to each other in that expansive lot. But why did the coincidence occur?  Why is that the characters of those two boys are so thickly prominent in my mind, while the other guys in my class are faded and gray?

Perhaps it’s simply human connection – that we’re all like magnets, and sometimes the shoe just fits. Whatever the case, I was rather stunned when Football Boy held the door open for me yesterday. It was our very first interaction outside of class. I even let him see a smile.