I walk outside the front door, to see my friend Amy’s (who had occasionally skipped her math lessons without her parent’s knowledge to hang around my house) Dad and brother, waiting outside my house, in an ancient car. As if that wasn’t random enough, Amy’s Dad was, well a slightly shorter version of himself, and her brother was in speedos. Yes speedos, and the weather here isn’t exactly speedo-friendly at this time of the year.
After contemplating for a while, I decide to walk past them, trying not to get their attention. They get out of the car, and come up to me asking if I knew anything about Amy’s current whereabouts. For some reason, the speedos, contrary to everything else, were of a bright colour, orange too. And, for some odd reason, even though I was quite sure she was not, I reacted as if I was hiding her under my bed. As if she was an illegal substance, and I could sense that my face showed my fear of getting caught. I mumbeled something about how the last time I spoke to her she was about to clean their attic.
“Attic? So she’s cleaning the lare dad!” her brother yelled out in an unusual excited manner.
My mind suddenly tried to make any connection between the possibility of Amy being a witch with all the memories I had of her. But before I could try to reach a conclusion, her brother suddenly springs his elongated legs to my open-door garage, where my father was proudly squishing grapes with his bare feet to make his precious wine, and checked if Amy was hiding on the roof in there, and came out as her dog, Jessie.
THEN, I woke up. Is it any wonder that I wake up feeling so puzzled? I spent all day looking at Amy with suspicion. Till it all came rushing back during my little nap time in fifth period.